Linda flinched and blinked back tears.
Okay, so he shouldn’t bethatcold. He swallowed hard to not smooth over his stuffy words.
“Yes, I’m fine, but I’m much better now that you’re here.” She plucked at his sweater and reached for Harold.
He hurried to her and wrapped his arm around her.
Jarrett clamped his jaw shut and offered his father his hand. After all his parents had done for Marissa—thingsheshould have done—a little civility wouldn’t kill him, right?
Harold sighed and accepted it.
Something crashed into Jarrett’s legs. He stumbled back and peered down as Jason hugged him. “Hey, buddy.” He picked him up.
“I knew you’d come!”
Marissa winced and turned away.
What was that about? Jarrett stiffened as his tongue doubled in size.
The picture on the wall behind her showed Joel and Jason at the child’s birthday party. A frilly hat sat cockeyed on the boy’s head, and the blue sash crossing his chest stated his new age—two years old. Joel helped him tear the wrapper from a gift with at least a dozen other presents scattered around them.
My damn face. Dad was right.
Marissa had probably glimpsed what should have been—Joel holding his son.
After he set him down, Linda grasped Jarrett’s arm and drew him through the living room into the dining room.
Other than the elegant fir tree by the large windows and the lit red candles on the mantel, she had decorated little. Weird. She’d always gone a little crazy with garland, wreaths, and lights, but with no children living in the house, what reason did she have to go wild?
“Sit wherever you like.” Linda released him and swiped her hand toward the dining table.
He held back a snort. If he tried to take his dad’s chair at the head of the table, he might as well leave now. With six chairs and five place settings before him, he slid into his usual chair—the one farthest from his father’s spot—as Jason plopped into the seat next to him. The rich scent of something baked seeped from the three covered casserole dishes on the table. Had the neighbors brought them over? Certainly, his mother wouldn’t have cooked so much food on the anniversary of Joel’s death.
“Dig in, everyone.” Linda removed the glass lids from the dishes.
Marissa grabbed Jason’s plate and filled it with small portions of macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, and garlic mashed potatoes before handing it over and sitting across the table from Jarrett.
He bit the inside of his cheek. He should’ve chosen a different chair, so she could sit with her son. Too late now. With his parents boxing him in at either end of the table, he blew out a steadying breath and spooned a heaping pile of green beans and fried onions on his plate.
Linda stirred her helping of cheesy macaroni. “Where do you live, Jarrett?”
“San Francisco. Well, technically, my apartment is in Oakland. It’s crazy expensive to live in either place, but it’s much worse in The City. Anyway, I make decent money working for a construction firm that builds everything from houses to skyscrapers.” The usual story fell from his tongue with ease.
“That’s great, as long as you’re happy.”
He repressed an eye roll and shoveled green beans into his mouth.
“What about the drugs?” Harold tapped his fork against his ceramic plate. “You look clean. Act clean. Are you?”
Jesus. Couldn’t his dad have asked that when Jason wasn’t around? The creamy food slid down his gullet like cardboard. “Yes, sir. Over seven years now. To answer your earlier questions, no arrest records other than juvie are on the books. No prison time.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
Harold’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you come home?”
Because my new job wouldn’t have allowed it.No way could he say that. “Too ashamed, I guess.” Once he’d finally cleaned up, he hated himself for hurting the people he cared about. How could he face them and apologize for his mistakes? Damn his stupid pride.
Jason gulped juice from his glass. “Good, I’m happy you never went to prison. The guy who shot my daddy is in there for thirty years. He was high on something.” His forehead crinkled as he puckered his lips. “Oh, it was acid, whatever that is.” He looked at his mom. “Is that right?”
Marissa flushed red. “Yes, but where did you hear that?”
