Letting Go
Page 79
“You better figure—”
“I’ll give you what I gave you last time. And then I don’t want you to come asking me for money again. I’m done after this, understand?”
Mrs. Easton’s wicked smile turned triumphant and she took a step away. “Your shift here is almost over, correct?” When I didn’t respond, she turned around and called out, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
My boss, Anne, came up beside me and bumped my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I said too brightly.
“Did that person not want anything or . . .” She trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blank.
“Oh, no. It’s, uh, Jagger’s mom. She just came to talk to me about something, sorry about that.”
“Oh!” She looked in the direction Mrs. Easton had gone to make sure she’d left before whispering, “Your conversation looked kind of heated. I was trying to figure out if I should step in and save you.”
A hard laugh burst past my lips. “Appreciate the thought, but it was fine. Sorry, she brought family stuff here.”
Anne snorted. “This is Thatch. When isn’t there family business—or everyone else’s business—going on everywhere?”
“That’s true,” I mumbled.
Once again, I wrote out the check before leaving the shop and handed it to Mrs. Easton without a word as I walked to my car. My savings account was quickly disappearing because of her, but I was praying that now that I had most of my answers, I would figure out a way for Jagger to get custody of Keith before Mrs. Easton came back again.
FOUR DAYS LATER I was sitting in Graham’s living room going back and forth in my mind about whether or not I should tell him about my problem with Jagger’s mother. He hadn’t brought up my weird “hypothetical” situation since the day we’d talked about it, and I knew there was no way to keep Jagger’s name out of it if I fessed up. He would know the question was too personal, he would do the math and figure it out, and then he’d just be pissed that I hadn’t been up front with him in the beginning.
“Are you going to tell me why you told me you wanted to see me alone? Not that I blame you, seeing how I live with Knox and Deacon, but I didn’t know why you wouldn’t want to talk to me in front of Mom and Dad or Jagger.”
I swallowed thickly and started twisting my hands together. “Uh . . .”
“I would ask again if you’re pregnant, but I’m pretty sure if you were, Jagger would know.” A couple seconds passed before he asked sheepishly, “You’re not pregnant . . . right?”
“No, Graham, once again I am not pregnant.”
“Okay, well then, what is so bad that you couldn’t let Jagger be here with you?”
I can do this. I can do this, and I need Graham’s help, I reminded myself. With a shaky breath, I squared my shoulders and looked at my brother. “Do you remember when I asked what you would do in that hypothetical scenario that wasn’t so hypothetical?”
“Yes . . .” he said slowly, drawing out the word.
“It has to do with that.”
“Did they ask you for money again?”
Twice, I thought lamely, but shook my head. “This isn’t about asking me for money, I just need to talk to you, and see if you can help me out.”
“Is Jagger asking you for money? Is that why he’s marrying you?”
My entire body felt like it fell right along with my face. “Really? Really? No, Graham, Jesus! Jagger has money; he makes a lot off his drawings. God, the way you think blows my mind sometimes, and I told you this doesn’t have to do with someone asking me for money.”
“Okay, fine, what is it, then?”
“LeAnn disappeared for almost a year after Ben died, do you know about that?”
“LeAnn . . . LeAnn you-went-to-high-school-with LeAnn?”
“Yes, her.”
“How am I supposed to know? I wouldn’t touch that mess with a ten-foot pole. Why? Did she come after you? Because if she did, you can call the cops. That’s breaking the protective order and her probation.”
“Oh my God, Graham, no! I haven’t seen her since before we found out that it was her harassing Jagger and me. But there’s someone who’s holding something over Jagger—against him really, and it has to do with her, and why she disappeared.”
“Just so I don’t have to try to figure out what you’re thinking by myself,” he said drily, “why don’t you simply tell me the rest?”
“There is someone with a toddler, and they’re saying it’s Jagger’s and LeAnn’s. They said LeAnn got pregnant before Ben died, but didn’t try to approach Jagger about it until after Ben died, and then Jagger was never alone for her to talk to. So Jagger doesn’t know, but he does know the kid because the person who is holding it against him knows him really well and LeAnn gave her custody. And he definitely looks like he could be Jagger’s son.”
“Holy shit, Grey. How long have you known about this?”
“The end of September. A week after we got engaged,” I said warily, awaiting the reaction I knew was coming, and Graham didn’t disappoint.
“You’re f**king telling me that you’ve known for a month and a half that your fiancé has a son with some other chick, and you haven’t told him? Are you f**king insane?”
“You don’t—”
“I’ll give you what I gave you last time. And then I don’t want you to come asking me for money again. I’m done after this, understand?”
Mrs. Easton’s wicked smile turned triumphant and she took a step away. “Your shift here is almost over, correct?” When I didn’t respond, she turned around and called out, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
My boss, Anne, came up beside me and bumped my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I said too brightly.
“Did that person not want anything or . . .” She trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blank.
“Oh, no. It’s, uh, Jagger’s mom. She just came to talk to me about something, sorry about that.”
“Oh!” She looked in the direction Mrs. Easton had gone to make sure she’d left before whispering, “Your conversation looked kind of heated. I was trying to figure out if I should step in and save you.”
A hard laugh burst past my lips. “Appreciate the thought, but it was fine. Sorry, she brought family stuff here.”
Anne snorted. “This is Thatch. When isn’t there family business—or everyone else’s business—going on everywhere?”
“That’s true,” I mumbled.
Once again, I wrote out the check before leaving the shop and handed it to Mrs. Easton without a word as I walked to my car. My savings account was quickly disappearing because of her, but I was praying that now that I had most of my answers, I would figure out a way for Jagger to get custody of Keith before Mrs. Easton came back again.
FOUR DAYS LATER I was sitting in Graham’s living room going back and forth in my mind about whether or not I should tell him about my problem with Jagger’s mother. He hadn’t brought up my weird “hypothetical” situation since the day we’d talked about it, and I knew there was no way to keep Jagger’s name out of it if I fessed up. He would know the question was too personal, he would do the math and figure it out, and then he’d just be pissed that I hadn’t been up front with him in the beginning.
“Are you going to tell me why you told me you wanted to see me alone? Not that I blame you, seeing how I live with Knox and Deacon, but I didn’t know why you wouldn’t want to talk to me in front of Mom and Dad or Jagger.”
I swallowed thickly and started twisting my hands together. “Uh . . .”
“I would ask again if you’re pregnant, but I’m pretty sure if you were, Jagger would know.” A couple seconds passed before he asked sheepishly, “You’re not pregnant . . . right?”
“No, Graham, once again I am not pregnant.”
“Okay, well then, what is so bad that you couldn’t let Jagger be here with you?”
I can do this. I can do this, and I need Graham’s help, I reminded myself. With a shaky breath, I squared my shoulders and looked at my brother. “Do you remember when I asked what you would do in that hypothetical scenario that wasn’t so hypothetical?”
“Yes . . .” he said slowly, drawing out the word.
“It has to do with that.”
“Did they ask you for money again?”
Twice, I thought lamely, but shook my head. “This isn’t about asking me for money, I just need to talk to you, and see if you can help me out.”
“Is Jagger asking you for money? Is that why he’s marrying you?”
My entire body felt like it fell right along with my face. “Really? Really? No, Graham, Jesus! Jagger has money; he makes a lot off his drawings. God, the way you think blows my mind sometimes, and I told you this doesn’t have to do with someone asking me for money.”
“Okay, fine, what is it, then?”
“LeAnn disappeared for almost a year after Ben died, do you know about that?”
“LeAnn . . . LeAnn you-went-to-high-school-with LeAnn?”
“Yes, her.”
“How am I supposed to know? I wouldn’t touch that mess with a ten-foot pole. Why? Did she come after you? Because if she did, you can call the cops. That’s breaking the protective order and her probation.”
“Oh my God, Graham, no! I haven’t seen her since before we found out that it was her harassing Jagger and me. But there’s someone who’s holding something over Jagger—against him really, and it has to do with her, and why she disappeared.”
“Just so I don’t have to try to figure out what you’re thinking by myself,” he said drily, “why don’t you simply tell me the rest?”
“There is someone with a toddler, and they’re saying it’s Jagger’s and LeAnn’s. They said LeAnn got pregnant before Ben died, but didn’t try to approach Jagger about it until after Ben died, and then Jagger was never alone for her to talk to. So Jagger doesn’t know, but he does know the kid because the person who is holding it against him knows him really well and LeAnn gave her custody. And he definitely looks like he could be Jagger’s son.”
“Holy shit, Grey. How long have you known about this?”
“The end of September. A week after we got engaged,” I said warily, awaiting the reaction I knew was coming, and Graham didn’t disappoint.
“You’re f**king telling me that you’ve known for a month and a half that your fiancé has a son with some other chick, and you haven’t told him? Are you f**king insane?”
“You don’t—”
