The whole lot of them—well, everyone but Jenna, who’d gone home last night—sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast as Owen recounted his night at the rodeo.
“Jack, did you know that Luke can ride a horse while he hangs upside down on its side? And that he can stand on two horses at once…while they’re moving?” Owen shoved a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.
“It’s called Roman riding, Shortstop, and your buddy Jack has actually never seen me do it.”
Ava’s eyes darted to Jack’s, but he had already hidden his expression behind a coffee mug as he took a slow sip.
“Never?” Owen said. “But, like, he won two hundred dollars last night. That’s how good he is!”
Luke shrugged. “But not the belt.” He winked at Owen. “I’m good, but I wanna be the best.”
Jack set his mug down and looked from Luke to Walker. He hadn’t just missed the first nine years of Owen’s life. He’d missed much of his brothers’ lives, too. Now he was traveling across the country to miss the rest of it, and it all felt—wrong.
What if he stayed? He could practice law here as well as he could there. Would Luke and Walker really want that after all that he’d missed? Could Ava forgive him for letting logic make his choices when he should maybe start listening to his goddamn heart?
“Jack!” Owen said after swallowing his food. “You have to come next time. And Mom, too. You could do a date at the rodeo, right?”
Ava was the one to look away this time. He hated this tension between them, especially after last night. Damn it, nothing had ever shaken him to his core—utterly changing how he looked at his life, his future, the possibilities—like the way he felt when he was inside her.
He should have told her about selling the vineyard. But she terrified him. Because up until last night he’d convinced himself that what was brewing between them was nothing more than residual chemistry from when they were eighteen. That he could live without it like he had for the past ten years. But Ava wasn’t the girl he remembered. She was a strong woman now, someone who’d put her own future on hold to raise an amazing kid. She was beautiful, and sexy, and full of so much passion that she couldn’t keep it bottled up if she tried. It made him wonder if what he’d been doing since he left had really been living at all.
“So are we gonna watch some baseball or what?” Walker asked, pushing his chair from the table.
He had been sober last night when they’d returned home from the rodeo, Walker carrying a sleeping Owen in his arms. And this morning proved the same. Ava and Owen’s presence seemed to be affecting all of them for the better. So why couldn’t he pull the goddamn trigger and decide to stay?
“Are all of you really coming?” Owen asked. “That’s so awesome,” he said, not waiting for an answer. “Walker, can you show my friends the pictures you took of Luke on your phone? I’m gonna learn how to trick ride someday. You’ll teach me, right?”
His eyes shifted from Walker to Luke. Ava coughed on her sip of coffee, and Jack just watched everything play out before him.
“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know, Shortstop,” Luke said.
“If you ever take a breath and stop talking,” Walker added, but he winked at the kid.
Was this what it would be like if he gave up a future in New York for a life he hadn’t realized he’d ever want? Family breakfasts, Walker sober, and Luke teaching his son how to ride?
Every puzzle piece fit—except for Ava’s trust in him not having any more secrets—and his trust in himself that he and his father shared nothing more than a name.
Ava, silent through it all, finally looked at her phone and spoke. “We should go,” she said. “I need to drop Scully at home before we head to the field. We’ll meet you all there.”
At the sound of his name, Scully sprang up and started spinning in circles, and whatever invisible thread had held them all together in that makeshift family moment snapped.
Everyone was up and moving. Jack piled cereal bowls and coffee mugs into the sink, knowing he’d be the one to take care of them later. Because that’s what he did. He took care of things so others wouldn’t have to.
He’d sent money to his brothers when he’d finally started earning more than he needed to live on. He’d only allowed himself the barest of necessities. He didn’t need any more, and he certainly never let himself want. That was his penance for leaving.
Because he’d wanted to leave. That was his one luxury. Ava was right. He’d escaped the life that had tried to break him, taking care of his brothers from a distance instead. It was the only way he knew how to show them what they meant to him without having to be in a place where he’d lost all of his good memories.
But look at what they’d done in only a couple of weeks. They’d created new ones, and with one tiny omission about the vineyard, he’d possibly destroyed that.
They deserved more. Ava and Owen deserved more.
The screen door banged shut a few times as people—and a dog—exited. An engine revved in the driveway, and he guessed it was Luke starting up the truck. But Jack remained in the kitchen—separate, where he was safe. He might have been ten years older, but it seemed not much had changed. Even after a couple of weeks in this house, he still couldn’t let the past go.
“You coming?”
He turned from the sink to see Ava lingering in the hallway leading to the front door.
“Yeah. Why would you—?” Damn. “Did you think after how we ended things last night that I was just going to cut my losses? I messed up by not telling you about the vineyard, but I’m in over my head here. I don’t know how to be the guy you think you see in me, Ava. I’ve spent ten years convincing myself that everyone was better off if I kept them at arm’s length. I don’t know how to see myself any other way.”
She shrugged. “And I don’t know how to want anything less than the world for Owen.” She forced a smile. “And for myself.”
He watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. Then he remembered Walker begging Jack to hit him. As much as Ava and Owen seemed to bring out the best in everyone around them, his presence had upset the balance of so many lives. The thought of hurting his son, though? It tore at something deep inside him, making it hard to breathe.
“You don’t want to tell him,” Jack said. It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head. “That’s no longer the issue. You are his father. You have as much right to his life as I do. I’m just asking you to be sure about one thing—that no matter where you are, you’ll be an active presence in his life and not simply a signature on a check.” She let out a shaky breath. “I have no right to put this kind of pressure on you when I’m the one who created this situation, but he has fantasized about you his whole life.”
“And you don’t think I’ll live up to the fantasy,” he interrupted.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. “Actually,” she said, “you’ll probably surpass it, which will make it that much harder when you leave.”
She blew out a breath and plastered on a smile. The mask she wore for her son. How often did she have to do that? And how much of that was because of him?
“Time to go. Don’t want to be late for warm-ups with the team. I’ll see you and your brothers there. Is Jenna coming?”
“She texted,” Jack said. “She said she had something to take care of but that she’d be there before the game ended.” He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “Not then. And not now.”
“I know,” she said. “We kind of messed it up together, though. Didn’t we?”
He strode toward her, stopping when he was close enough to hear her breathe. He skimmed his fingers through her hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing another tear to fall.
He kissed her wet lashes. Then his lips found hers, and she melted into his touch. Were ten years too much to repair when having her this close made everything else fade away?
“Why is this so easy for us?” she asked when they paused to catch their breath. “But everything else is so hard?”
He kissed her forehead and then pulled her close, and she buried her face in his chest.
“Because I have a messed-up past that won’t seem to let go,” he said softly. “And there’s no way in hell I’m letting that get in the way of your future.”
She pulled back and cupped his face in her palms. “You can let go, Jack. You are stronger than anything he ever did to you.”
She didn’t let him respond. She simply kissed him as if it was the last time she ever would. And he let her. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she parted her lips and invited him inside. He savored the taste of her, her scent, the feel of her skin against his. He held her tight, afraid to let go because this couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be good-bye.
She pulled away first, and his gaze never faltered as he watched her walk down the hallway and then out the door. He turned to grab his Dodgers cap from the counter and noticed her easel still standing outside on the deck.
He ran to the door to catch her, but she, Owen, and Scully were already pulling out of the driveway and onto the main road.
“What’s the holdup, asshole?” Walker called out from where he stood, his back leaning against Jack’s truck.
“I’ll be right there,” he said. And he jogged back toward the sliding glass door to grab Ava’s canvas from the deck.
He stopped short once he was out there, eyes transfixed on what he’d thought would be the unfinished painting she’d abandoned during their argument last night. But she must have come back outside after getting Owen to bed because what stood before him was a replica of the sky under which they’d made love last night. This painting would get her into Cal Poly in a heartbeat. But she’d have taken it if that’s what she wanted.
Ava had shown him beauty in a place where he’d only ever found pain.
But that wasn’t the whole truth. Was it?
Yes. His last years in Oak Bluff had wiped out any good memories of the place. But there had been good here at one point. The realization of it had crept up when he wasn’t looking, whether it was Jenna recounting his parents’ courtship or the revelation of what they’d built together, not just in that damned spare room but in the ranch as a whole.
Then there were these past two weeks working on the vineyard with his brothers and the only woman who’d ever been able to break through his carefully constructed walls. He’d made new memories in a place he’d thought it impossible to do so.
He’d always thought his past would be trampled to dust the day Jack Senior was laid to rest. But Ava was right. His father was gone, but he was still hanging on to the pain. He needed to be the one to let go.
“How?” he asked aloud. “Someone tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
But no one was there to answer. So he grabbed the painting and brought it inside. But he didn’t bring it to his truck.
Convincing himself she’d left it on purpose, he decided to keep it—his best new memory, and the hope that it wasn’t his last. New York might be on the other side of the country, but he wouldn’t stay away like he had before. He didn’t need to anymore.
“So, Red’s parents seem nice,” Luke said sarcastically as they approached the Ellis clan sitting on the bleachers behind first base. “You piss in their rosebushes or something?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “More like I got their daughter pregnant and then disappeared for ten years.”
“Shit,” Walker said. “’Not like that’s on you. You didn’t have a clue.”
Jack shrugged. “I’d rather they take issue with me than make Ava’s life hell.” He side-eyed both his brothers. “Just—don’t be a dick,” he said before they were close enough for anyone to hear.
“Which one of us?” Luke asked.
But they were within spitting distance of Ava and her parents now, which meant he couldn’t give Luke a proper, brotherly response.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ellis,” he said in a professional tone. “I’m not sure you ever met my brothers, Luke and Walker.”
Luke extended a hand to shake, but Walker simply crossed his arms.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mrs. Ellis said with a genuine smile. Mr. Ellis did not reciprocate the gesture.
“Luke is pretty big in the local rodeo circuit,” Ava said. “And Owen got to have his first rodeo experience last night.”
Mr. Ellis narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “You brought my grandson to a rodeo?”
Luke cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, we took Owen on our own so your daughter and Jack could have a night to themselves.”
Christ. Smacking his brother on the back of the head would only fuel the fire. He opened his mouth to play defense, but Ava beat him to the punch.
“Jack worked all day and well into the early evening in the vineyard,” she said. “I wanted to give him a home-cooked meal as a thank-you.”
Walker scoffed. “Yeah, while we had to eat nachos and hot pretzels.”
Mrs. Ellis laughed, but Ava’s father didn’t even crack a smile.
“Rumor has it you got a pretty nice offer on that broke-down vineyard of yours,” he said.
“You told him?” Jack asked Ava, but she shook her head, her eyes wide.
“Dad,” she said, her voice shaky, “do you have something to do with that offer?”
He didn’t have a chance to respond as Owen ran off the pitcher’s mound where he’d been warming up.
“Grandma, Grandpa, did you guys see that curveball? Jack taught me that. Did you know he was a pitcher?” He squinted past them toward the parking lot. “Hey, isn’t that Jenna? It’s so cool you all came to my game.”
Jack turned to see Jenna standing on the curb next to the driver’s side of a car stopped on the wrong side of the street, idling behind a stop sign. He didn’t recognize the vehicle or the driver. He was about to turn away and give her privacy, realizing it was probably a man she’d spent the night with. But then he saw the guy grab her wrist…and Jenna try unsuccessfully to pull away.
“Shit,” he said. She hadn’t ended it, and the piece of shit had laid his hands on her again.
Jack ran across the short expanse of grass to the idling vehicle, ripping the guy’s hand from Jenna’s arm before even saying a word.
Jenna gasped and turned to face him, and Jack lost it when he saw the fresh, purpling bruise on her cheek.
He pushed Jenna out of the way and yanked the car door open, tearing the asshole from his seat. He dragged him around the front of the car, slamming him down on the hood before raising his fist to the man who’d raised his own to Jenna.
“Jack! Don’t!”
Ava’s voice cut straight through to him. He had one hand around the guy’s throat and the other pulled back into a fist poised to beat him bloody. But he turned toward her voice to see all of them crowded in front of the car—Jenna, Luke, and Walker. Then Ava with Owen at her side, the boy staring at him in horror, exactly like his mother had ten years ago.
Ava’s parents seemed to appear out of nowhere, her father bellowing as he stepped in front of his daughter and grandson, as if to shield them from what he was about to do. “This!” he cried. “This is why you’ll never be good enough for my daughter and why you’ll never be the father that boy deserves. You’re just like your old man. And I’ll be damned if I let you do to Ava and Owen what you did to Derek Wilkes…and what your father did to you.”
Jack looked at his fist raised in the air, then at the man beneath his outstretched hand whose lips were turning blue. He let go and stumbled back. “Somebody call the cops,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.
“I’m on it,” Luke said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
Only then did it register what Ava’s father had done.
He turned toward the gathered crowd and saw Ava with her hand cupped over her mouth and Owen’s disbelieving stare volleying from her to him.
“You’re—my dad?” Owen asked, the hurt in his eyes more devastating than anything Jack could have imagined.
“He didn’t know,” Ava said, taking a step toward her son, but Owen only backed away.
Jack’s eyes were fixed on Owen, whose own were red as tears streamed down his cheeks. The boy was getting dangerously close to the curb.
“Mom?” He was sobbing now. “You”—he hiccupped, trying to catch his breath—“you always knew? This whole time we were at J—at his house, and—and you didn’t tell me?”
Not another step, Jack thought as he watched Owen retreat farther, and the boy stopped as if he could read his mind. Jack straightened and let out a breath as Owen turned his gaze to him.
“Do you…Do you not want me? Is that why you didn’t say anything?”
Ava reached for her son, but he shook his head and took another step back, not realizing he was stepping off the curb.
It all happened in seconds. Owen stumbled several extra steps to keep himself from falling and Jack eyed the car around the corner making a left-hand turn right toward his son.
The driver wasn’t looking.
Ava screamed.
Jack’s only reaction was to run.
Owen was in his arms before he heard the sound of tires screeching, before he smelled the burnt rubber. But it was too late.