CHAPTERTWENTY
Mark chewed and swallowed the last bite of Thanksgiving turkey on his plate. He’d never paid so much attention to his manners in his damn life. Never tried so hard to make a good impression. Jess’s family had seen him at his worst back in high school. Tonight they needed to see him at his best.
“Go ahead and have seconds if you’d like,” Jess’s mother told him, a warm twinkle in her eye. She’d spent most of the time before dinner grilling Jess about her health. Mark had tried to stay out of the conversation, but somehow she seemed to have warmed up to him anyway.
“Thank you. Everything is delicious.” He scooped another helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate and then reached for the turkey.
“So unfair,” Nicole said with an unconvincing scowl. “Guys can have seconds and never gain an ounce.”
“Because we weigh more in the first place,” Dennis commented, reaching for another dinner roll.
Mark glanced over at Jess. She’d been quiet during dinner and hadn’t eaten much. He suspected the only reason she’d eaten as much as she had was to keep her mom off her back. Paula loved to fuss over her kids, and Jess hated to be fussed over.
That much hadn’t changed since the last time he’d had dinner with the Flynns. He enjoyed watching their banter, but he never knew what to say to join in the conversation. He’d spent plenty of holidays with his Special Forces team, but sharing a table with a bunch of rowdy soldiers was nothing like this. So he did what he did best, sat back, and watched.
Patrick told them about his newest exhibit—he owned the art gallery in downtown Haven—while they finished up their meals. Afterward, they all carried their dishes into the kitchen, and Jess and Nicole hung around to help their mom clean up while the men headed back into the living room.
“Scotch?” Jack Flynn asked Mark, holding up a bottle.
Mark nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Let’s walk,” Jess’s dad suggested, handing Mark a glass.
Mark followed him onto the back patio. The night was cold and clear, the sky above filled with stars. The Flynns’ house faced into the woods with a small grassy yard currently blanketed in fallen leaves. Mark remembered sneaking into the woods behind their house on more than one occasion to smoke a joint.
Standing here with her father now, he was ashamed of the man he’d been then.
“Jessica tells me you were in the Special Forces.”
“Yes, sir. Eight years.”
“Honorably discharged?” Jack rested his elbows on the railing, staring off into the darkness.
“Yes, sir.”
“Gotta say, Mark, I didn’t expect you to take me at my word that night.” Jack kept his gaze straight ahead. That night had been the last time they’d seen each other, until tonight. Jack had lectured Mark within an inch of his life and then given him a scrap of paper with the address for the local recruiting office written on it, told him to enlist and come home a man.
“You didn’t?” Mark took a drink of scotch, feeling the burn slide all the way to his stomach.
“Nah. Figured you’d toss that piece of paper in the trash and keep right on smoking pot in my backyard and running your future into the ground.”
Mark flinched. “Thank you for what you did. You turned my life around.”
Jack looked at him then, his brows knitted. “You’re thanking me? I kicked your ass that night.”
“It needed kicking, sir.”
“It did.” Jack barked out a laugh. “It sure as hell did. You were headed down a bad path, a path I didn’t want my daughter to get dragged down with you.”
“It’s true,” Mark agreed. Even at eighteen, he’d seen the truth of Jack’s words, and he’d known what he had to do. And he’d never once regretted his decision.
“The thing is, I was trying to help you turn yourself around for Jess’s sake, and then you went and dumped her anyway.” Jack gave him a cutting look.
“I never wanted to hurt her, sir. I didn’t see any other way.” He still didn’t.
“There’s always a way, son. To be frank, I half expected you two to try to elope before you shipped out. That’s what Paula and I did.”
Mark was silent. Elope with Jess? The thought had never crossed his mind.
