Aisha stopped just before the cedar archway that beckoned visitors into Jo and Callum’s welcoming living room. Her dad and Sam were already there and clearly audible—but equally clearly trying not to be. If they’d been talking in their regular voices, Aisha would’ve barged in like normal, alerting them to her presence before she heard anything. Their hushed tones, however, put her on alert before she was even completely aware of it. She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt them if they were having a highly personal conversation.
And it turned out they were. About her.
“I don’t like it.” Charlie’s voice was quiet and intense, and Aisha was about to automatically sympathize with his side, whatever it was—but then he added, “He follows her around like a lost puppy—no, like some big stupid overgrown galoot of a mutt. If he was a kid like her, it’d be one thing, maybe, but he’s not. No home. No history. No prospects that he’ll share. He won’t even look me in the face when I talk to him.”
It was totally obvious who Charlie was talking about—and totally unfair and uncalled for. Fury roared through Aisha, and she went completely rigid, fists clenching in indignation and outrage on Jase’s behalf.
“He’s shifty,” Charlie added.
“He’s shy,” Sam contradicted. “And while I understand how you might feel differently, it’s not really up to you, like it or not.”
“I’m not going to stand by while some user tries to ingratiate himself into her life.”
“Honey, come on,” Sam soothed. “I know you’re protective, but this is too much. He seems sweet and kind, and no one can argue that he’s a hard worker. You’re being too harsh—and hey, for me to think someone’s being too harsh is really something. You should listen to me.”
But Charlie wasn’t done, and he wasn’t able to maintain his lowered voice anymore either, apparently. His next words were a scathing explosion. “He’s a loser. He has nothing to offer her and Mo. Nothing!”
A sharp inhalation sounded behind Aisha, the kind you make when you slip with a knife and sink the blade deep into your tender flesh. Even before the pain registers, you know the damage is done. She instantly knew, sickness roiling through her, who it was. Tears burned in her sinuses as she turned.
Jase—yes, looking big and puppy-like, but in a good, sweet, lovely way—stood behind her, head lowered, looking sucker punched.
What the hell was wrong with her dad? Why was he being such an asshole? It wasn’t normal for him.
“Jase.” She was barely able to squeeze more words out when she saw the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Okay, maybe—but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t even know you.”
Jase shrugged. “He’s right though, isn’t he? All those things he said . . . he’s right.”
“He is not right! You’re—”
But all the nice, reassuring things—the true things—she was going to say got cut off. Charlie and Sam heard her and had the nerve to show their faces through the doorway. Jase broke eye contact with Aisha the moment they appeared.
“I’m, uh, not in the mood for a party,” he whispered. “Got some work I should do.” He thrust the bouquet and present he was gripping at her. “Tell Jo and Callum I’m sorry, please. I’ll see you later.”
“Jase—”
But he was silently gone, down the hall and out the door into the night, moving like his nature—soft, gentle, sure-footed.
Aisha turned on her father, her heart a raging storm that she could hear in her ears and feel thumping in her temples.
“Unbelievable,” she seethed, each syllable like a separate word. “Just . . . unbelievable.”
She pivoted, about to launch after Jase—but then Colton, who had been in Jase’s shadow, and whom Aisha thought had left with Jase, shot past Aisha and halted inches away from Charlie.
Colton’s face was full of violence, his low growl more ominous than if he’d shouted. “You shouldn’t talk shit when you don’t know shit, old man.”
Charlie blanched.
“Colton, I know how it sounded, but take a breath, please. Let us explain,” Sam started—then stepped back when Colton’s venom-filled gaze swung to her.
“Jase is a good guy. The best guy. Your daughter, or any guy’s daughter, would be lucky to have him. You don’t like that he’s quiet and keeps to himself? That he works with his hands and his back instead of with a douchie computer in some douchie office? You think you’re better than him?” Colton snorted and for a second Aisha worried he might spit in her father’s face to emphasize his point. “He’s too polite to say what you need to hear, and he cares too much what you think because he cares about your precious princess here.”
Colton glanced at Aisha briefly, then punched Charlie with his hard-eyed glare again and laughed without humour. “Thankfully, I have no similar hang ups, so you know what, big guy? Fuck you. Jase is ten times the person you are. No—twenty times.”
Aisha was shamefully surprised by Colton’s fervor. She’d thought he was a party guy, plain and simple, out for himself and whatever was easiest and most fun in the moment, the type to slink off at the first sign of conflict or uncomfortable emotion.
Regardless, one thing was clear to her now that hadn’t been before. It went both ways. She thought it was just good-hearted Jase watching out for Colton, but the relationship was obviously reciprocal. He’s my brother, Jase had once said, like it explained everything.
“Now hold on a minute,” Charlie said, his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “I didn’t mean any offence.”
“Yeah, sure. You had no idea what you were saying. English is your second language, right? What you mean is that you didn’t intend to get overheard—but hear me. You call Jase a loser and act like he’s some shiftless drifter without a pot to piss in. The opposite is true. He’s been saving for a place of his own since we were like, fifteen. And every penny he earns outside his savings and the little bit he lives on goes to his daughter. I never knew any grown ass men who took care of their responsibilities the way Jase does.”
Charlie stepped back and his whole body sagged. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
Colton was saying something else, something like how he wasn’t the one Charlie should be apologizing to, but Aisha couldn’t hear clearly over the clanging words repeating and repeating and repeating in her brain. “Jase has a daughter?”
“What?” Colton’s head jerked like she’d slapped him. “You didn’t—oh, shit. Shit! I thought . . . I thought you knew. You guys are so close and—shit.”
Aisha held up a hand to stave off Colton’s verbal diarrhea. “No worries. I would’ve assumed the same thing.” Actually, screw “would have.” She had assumed the same thing. That she knew Jase. Sure, he didn’t find talking about some stuff easy, but he’d told her about his childhood, about his mom, about the long list of foster families. It was another thing she would’ve put money on, actually: that he’d shared his past as honestly and openly with her as she had with him because he cared for her.
She barely noticed Colton leave. She was too preoccupied with a flood of humiliating memories and could barely refrain from shuddering with mortification. She’d been so stupidly transparent with him—and he hadn’t even bothered to mention he had a kid? There could only be one reason why he hadn’t.
She’d been so utterly sure he was nothing like Evan. That he was, as Colton described him, a good guy. The best guy. Wholly, unconditionally, decent and trustworthy. But the reality? The truth? She’d been duped by a skilled liar and manipulator again.
Jo was suddenly in the archway to the living room, a huge cake in her hands. Her gaze darted between speechless-for-once Sam, pale-faced Charlie, and irate Aisha. She shook her head once, as if deciding she didn’t have time for whatever she’d missed. “Quick, guys! The car’s pulled up. Everybody else is already hiding. Come get ready to yell surprise.”
Yell surprise. Well, that had already happened. Torn, Aisha looked in the direction that Jase and Colton had defected. She desperately wanted to do the same—in the opposite direction. But she didn’t want to let Jo down either.
Heavy hearted and dreading the whole festive “fun” evening, Aisha let her aunt herd her into the living room.