Red-and-blue lights whirled in Jem’s rearview mirror. The flashes caught his gaze as he drove one-handed through Charlottesville’s darkening streets, reenacting his winning three-pointer to Natalie with the other.
“Are you serious?” He checked the mirror again. “I’m not even speeding. If this is Dad again, this has got to be some sort of abuse of power.” He let the car roll to a stop on the side of the road.
He even had good news to share with Dad, but he’d rather not do it in the glow of police lights.
Natalie looked over her shoulder, her chocolate-colored ponytail bouncing with movement. “It’s your dad. And he looks crankier than a librarian with a wedgie.” She stuffed a McDonald’s bag, three soda cans, and a diaper under her seat.
Jem swiped dust off the dash and hit the windshield with a squirt of water.
Their teamwork was instant. Synchronized. Unspoken. There’d been a weird energy between him and Nat for the last few weeks. They’d relied on one another during the drama of Olly’s injections, finger-prick tests, and the haze of grief around Phil’s diagnosis. They’d both spent a lot of time this week at the Groves home with Phil.
But she was still dating Sam.
A rhythmic crunch of gravel indicated Dad’s approach. A moment later his starched shirt blocked the view from Jem’s window. He tapped the glass.
Jem wound down the window while rolling his eyes. A rush of cold air swept in, cooling the sweat on his body. “You know they’ve invented these wonderful things called cell phones, Dad.”
“You should try answering yours once in a while. License and registration, please.”
Great, he was snippy already. As he reached for his papers, Jem eyed the awards-night invitation perched in the cupholder where he stashed his phone and spare pacifiers. Maybe not the best time to extend his olive branch of inviting Dad to the ceremony. But they hadn’t seen one another for weeks—how could he possibly be angry about something?
He handed his license and registration over. “My name is Lucius Alfredo, and this is my friend Kathy Cupcake. What’s going on?”
“I could say the same to you.” Dad took the wallet and stepped back. “I’ll check your details. Wait here.”
“What the— He’s not— Augh!” He thumped the steering wheel. “I swear, he does this just to drive me insane.”
Natalie pulled his phone from the console. “You missed six calls.”
“What?” He grabbed the phone. All the calls had arrived during the game.
Natalie twisted the heat control. A blast of hot air hit Jem’s face even as chills rippled through his body. What was so urgent that Dad would call him six times?
His father reappeared at the window and held Jem’s wallet up but out of reach. “I have Lili in the back of my car.”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” Jem twisted to try and see her, but Dad’s car was parked at an angle that blocked his view.
“I was returning her to Mike and Steph’s.”
“You were . . . Excuse me?” A firecracker lit in his brain. “What gives you the right—”
“I have every right,” Dad snapped. “The only reason I’ve brought her back to you is because they’re both out.”
Jem gaped at him. “Who made you the policeman of parenting?”
“Your apartment is no place for an unstable teenage girl. You’ve got Oliver’s sickness, the drama with his mother. Natalie’s got her own crisis—”
Jem’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Dad, controlling everything. Again. “The decision for Lili to live at my house is between Mike, Steph, and me.”
“Mike hasn’t seen Lili in two weeks. How is he supposed to have confidence that—”
“Steph takes her out to lunch all the time. They know exactly how she is.”
“I found her drunk.”
Jem opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Beside him, Natalie leaned forward. “You what?”
“She was throwing up. Your bottle of wine was empty. And I could smell it.”
Jem narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me you found Lili drunk. I haven’t even bought more cooking wine— Oh.” There was that gift bottle he’d received from his old workmates. But he still shook his head.
Dad reared back. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’d like to hear Lili’s version.”
Dad’s lip curled in a sneer. “This is why I took her to Mike and Steph’s. I knew you wouldn’t be concerned about this.” He shook his head, as if he wondered why he’d ever expected better.
The words struck like a hook to the ribs. Failure.
Jem pushed the inner voice aside and glanced at Natalie. “Could you please get Lili?”
She slipped out of the car and jogged toward the police vehicle.
He counted to five, jaw clenched. “I never said I wasn’t concerned—”
Dad cut him off with a slash of his hand. “When are you going to stop goofing around and realize this stuff is serious?”
Jem’s last thread of restraint snapped. “When are you going to stop inventing reasons to criticize me so you feel better about your own crappy parenting?”
Dad drew himself even more upright. “How dare you—”
“No, how dare you, Dad?” He spat out the long-held-back words. He was a man now. Dad had no right to lecture him anymore. “You had your chance and you screwed it up. Stop messing up mine.”
Lili and Natalie slid through the passenger-side doors at the same time.
He raised his eyebrows at his father. “You going to give me my wallet back?”
“Not until you—”
“You know what? Keep it.”
Jem hit the gas and squealed away. His father, a lone figure in the side mirror, grew smaller and then disappeared altogether.
Shaking his head, Jem tried to shake off Dad’s judgmental words. And the niggle of guilt at his own response. He flicked a glance at Lili in the rearview mirror. “What happened, Lil?”
There was a long pause. “I felt sick all day, and a friend at school told me that a little bit of wine settles your stomach. They’re into those organic remedies and stuff. I was at home, and Tylenol wasn’t working, and I saw a bottle in your pantry. So I had half a cup. Granddad caught me and went berserk.” She shrugged. “You know how he is.”
Jem made eye contact in the mirror again, but Lili broke it. Fresh worry poured in. Was she telling the truth? “So if I go home and check the bottle, will there only be half a cup missing?”
“Uh . . . Granddad poured the rest down the sink and threw out the bottle.”
“Of course he did,” Jem muttered.
Natalie glanced at him.
Jem pulled into his apartment block’s parking lot and shut off the car. He shifted in his seat to face Lili, who stroked a sleeping Oliver’s hand. Had she been acting different lately? Between Olly’s diabetes and Phil’s terminal diagnosis, he couldn’t remember. His stomach churned, twisting and flopping in that spot below his diaphragm. Maybe Dad was r— No. That thought wasn’t worth finishing.
He wasn’t like Dad. He could actually communicate.
“Lili.” He waited till she looked at him. “You know you can tell me if something’s going on.”
She squirmed in her seat. “I know.”
“Is there anything? Anything at all?”
“No.” She stopped her squirms and held his stare.
He sighed and dropped his gaze. “Okay. Make sure you tell us if anything ever comes up. And no more organic remedies.” He shook his head. “I have no idea if it settles your stomach or not, but you won’t taste alcohol again until your twenty-first birthday. Am I clear?”
“Fine.” Lili unclipped her seat belt and shot from the car into the building.
Jem leaned his head back against the seat.
Natalie twisted to face him. She still wore her blue-and-gold basketball uniform, and the intense game had put some pink back in her cheeks. But concern darkened her green eyes. “Do you believe her?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What else can I do? It’s her word against Dad’s. And he’s proven more than once he has his own guilt-driven agenda. Have you noticed anything odd about Lili’s behavior?”
She shrugged. “I’ve barely noticed the sun going up and down for the past few weeks.”
He grimaced. The timing was horrendous. Between Natalie’s grief over her father’s life expectancy, concern for Olly, and her new workload, he was already worried about her. She was slipping away, and he seemed powerless to stop it.
He pushed his fingers through his hair. “We’ll just have to keep a close eye on her.”
She nodded, then snagged the envelope that he’d shoved into his cupholder, the word “Congratulations” stamped on the front. “What’s this?”
He tried to smile, but his facial muscles felt heavy. “Can you believe I was going to drop by Dad’s place tomorrow and tell him about this? I got nominated for a journalism award. That’s the invitation to the gala dinner.”
“Are you serious? That’s amazing.”
Jem pictured his father’s probable reaction. “He’d find something to criticize.”
Natalie shoved his shoulder. “Forget trying to please him. You don’t have to prove that you’re good enough to anyone.”
Jem widened his eyes in mock pain. But her words soothed the roiling tension inside. She had a point. Maybe if he could just remember that, he could stop doing stupid things around Dad.
He rubbed his forehead. He’d only resolved to try again with Dad last week. Hadn’t taken long for that to fall apart.
Natalie pulled the elegant invitation from its envelope. Jem allowed himself the luxury of watching. Natalie had kept her word about forgiving him these past weeks, and it no longer seemed to take just three seconds for her to hate him again.
They were definitely up to at least seven.
That was it. Jem set his jaw. If Natalie could do it, so could he. Next time he had a run-in with his father, no matter what went down, he would not react. He would not be goaded. He would not explode. He would forgive.
He shot up a prayer for divine help. This would require nothing short of an act of God.
Natalie, reading the invite, widened her eyes. “This ceremony looks like it’s going to be gorgeous.”
The sparkle in her expression fully erased Jem’s mental image of Dad standing alone on the roadside. “Well . . . you could come. As a friend.” His pulse quickened at the thought, though she was certain to say no.
She hesitated. “I thought you’d need me to watch the kids.”
Jem’s mind scrambled for solutions. “Lili can babysit. Maybe Steph can help too, keep an eye on Olly’s sugars. We won’t stay late.” His voice was at its most coaxing. Was it a dog move to invite another man’s girlfriend to his award ceremony? Maybe. But if Sam wanted her, he could fight for her.
When Jem had first come back to town, he’d dreamed of winning Natalie back in the same way he dreamed of a tropical holiday home or a full night’s sleep. Not gonna happen. Then she’d kissed him, and for one magnificent day he’d hoped—until reality crashed back in. Things had happened so quickly, Jem hadn’t had the chance to tell Natalie how he felt.
Now she’d been dating that Australian preacher for weeks, but she wasn’t exactly turning cartwheels with happiness. So maybe there was still a chance.
Natalie deserved to know how he felt about her. Then she could choose. He just needed the chance to tell her.
“I’ll have Wildfire work.”
“Take one night off. Between Wildfire and your dad, you’re beyond stressed. This will be good for you.”
Natalie pressed her lips together, face awash with indecision. “Maybe.”
“It’s next Saturday. You’ve got time to decide.” Jem unbuckled Olly and pulled him from the car seat, lips moving in a silent plea to God.
He’d given her ten days to decide.
Ten days for him to pray.
* * *
Natalie really should have been moving faster.
She folded her arms over her worn duffle coat in a vain effort to keep the wind out as she walked to Bodo’s on Saturday morning. Her faux-leather knee-high boots tapping on the pavement restricted her speed to a degree, but as much as she’d like to blame them, the cold headwind, or the college student who nearly ran her over on his skateboard, she couldn’t. It was her own fault.
She didn’t know what to do.
Bodo’s came into view, and her speed decreased even more. The bagel eatery had become her and Sam’s favorite hangout. But before she arrived, she needed to make a decision. What would she do about Jem’s invitation?
Was it fair to go with him to his awards ceremony while she was dating Sam? Should she tell Sam? Should she say no? Should this be such a debate if she was meant to be over Jem? And did that even matter because committing more to Sam was probably what would cleanse Jem from her brain?
Her mind had run a marathon already, and it was only noon.
She crossed the Bodo’s courtyard with a grimace. It was clear what she should do. She should ask Sam out next Saturday night. They could go ice skating, something that the Australian had never done, and it would probably prove hilarious. With Sam, the night would be light, fun and easy.
So why couldn’t she get more excited about it?
She paused outside the door.
Because she wanted to see Jem dressed up. She wanted to sit next to him and smirk at the host’s bad toupee, wanted to share Jem’s dessert and cheer when he won.
Because she was insane.
He’d blindsided her by leaving once. What made her think it wouldn’t happen again?
She pulled the door open with determination. She’d ask Sam to go ice skating. It was the only rational decision.
She looked around the restaurant. No Sam. Huh. She checked her watch. Twelve-oh-seven p.m. And she’d thought she was late.
The door opened behind her.
“Kim, I’m meeting Natalie. I’ve gotta— We can talk about it later, but I’m not keen on the idea.”
She turned and encountered Sam’s apologetic smile. He mouthed, Sorry. Kimberly’s voice still emanated from the phone, and Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging up now. See ya later.” He ended the call and tugged a seat out for Natalie. “Sorry about that. She wants to pitch new ideas for Wildfire.”
Natalie took her seat as a vise gripped her chest. She’d put in more hours than ever on Wildfire work since Dad came home from the hospital. Was Kimberly getting an edge with this?
Or really, more of an edge?
Sam seated himself across from her. “She has . . . Well, she has a lot of ideas.” His tone did not indicate that it was a compliment.
“Too many?” Natalie hazarded a guess.
Sam’s smile turned rueful. “You could say that.”
An interesting tidbit of information. Natalie tucked it away for further pondering later. She picked up a menu and pretended to consider it while she tried to form her next sentence. “So, next Saturday night—”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about, well, future Saturday nights.”
Natalie put the menu down and paid sharper attention. “Yes?” His tone, his expression . . . What was wrong?
A pained expression crossed his countenance. “I’m not certain if we should be spending them together.”
She blinked. He was breaking up with her? Her brain scrambled for a response, and the best it came up with was, “Umm . . . okay?”
“It’s not that I don’t enjoy hanging out.” Sam leaned forward. “I do. It’s just I get the sense . . .” He trailed off and appeared to search for the right words.
“What?”
“It seems like there’s some unresolved stuff between you and Jem. I’d rather not get in the middle of that.”
Oh no. Jem was not wrecking this for her. She matched Sam’s pose, elbows on the table, leaning forward. “It only seems that way because we have history. But that’s in the past.” Where it would stay.
Sam looked skeptical.
“You don’t believe me?”
He shrugged. “I believe you. I’m just pretty sure it’s not in the past for Jem.” At her look, he smiled. “I saw his reaction when I picked you up the other day. A bloke knows.”
Natalie opened her mouth, closed it. Jem . . . Jem wasn’t over her. The thought filled her with an expanding sensation of joy, a hot-air balloon lifting off in her heart.
Sam’s comment shouldn’t have this effect on her. She’d suspected how Jem felt. The evidence was there. His kiss, before Chloe. His invitation now. The strangled expression he got each time she mentioned Sam. She’d known. She’d fought it.
But Sam saying it aloud sounded ten different kinds of wonderful.
She was a terrible person. She’d just told Sam this was in the past.
The man before her held up his hands. “But that’s just Jem. I believe you. And honestly, Nat, on paper I think we’re great together. But in practice, I think we’re missing a little . . . zing.”
She couldn’t argue. Had felt it herself, though she’d told herself that it could come with time. “I get that,” she admitted.
“But you’re a terrific friend. I think we can still work together great at Wildfire.”
She smiled and said all the things you’re meant to say in a breakup and meant most of them. After Sam left, she stared at the napkin holder for so long that someone tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she was okay.
Natalie jolted, turned.
Kimberly.
The younger woman slid into the seat Sam had vacated, concern in her expression. “You can tell me to go away, that’s fine. I just wanted to check.”
Natalie sighed. She wanted to hate Kimberly. The woman stood ready to steal her dream away in a matter of weeks. But though Kimberly could be focused to the point of abruptness, there was no denying she had a kind heart.
Natalie tore the edge of the corner of a napkin and debated how much to tell her. “Sam and I just decided to stop seeing each other.”
Kimberly’s expression was entirely empathetic. “I’m sorry. That sucks.” A worried expression crossed her face. “I wasn’t stalking you guys either, by the way. Sam said he was meeting you, but I didn’t know it was here. He just said the other day that he loved the bagels here, so I decided to try it out.” Her words got more rushed and awkward the longer she went.
Natalie shrugged. “It’s fine. The breakup was . . . relatively mutual.”
Kimberly leaned forward. “I’m sure he’ll be fine at work, if you’re worried about that.”
Natalie debated her next words, then threw caution to the wind. Once the Wildfire decision was made, she and Kimberly would have little reason to meet again. Sometimes a near stranger could be the best sounding board. “It’s more the reason we decided to call it. Sam thinks that my ex, Jem, is interested, and I can admit to being . . . tempted. Sam could see that.” She worked at tearing the napkin into a strip like Mom did with those Australian Minties candies she loved. “But Jem already broke off our engagement once. Don’t you think it’s crazy to trust him again?”
Kimberly tapped a fingernail against the table. “You won’t be surprised to know that relationships aren’t my strong point. But I do believe that some people change. And some don’t. The trick is working out which is which.”
She smiled and left, and Natalie stayed until her napkin was one long piece, like a perfectly peeled apple skin.
“The trick is working out which is which.”
Could Jem have really changed enough for her to entrust her heart to him again?
There was only one way to find out.