I laughed even though so many questions were running wild through my head. Was this her secret, the reason she felt she could no longer see me? If so, she had to know I’d be here to support her, not knock her down.
“How long has he been homeless?”
“Off and on for years. I’ve tried to bring him in, get him help, but he never stays.”
“That’s a gnarly injury. What happened to his leg?”
“He was sleeping in some bushes when a car jumped the sidewalk and landed on his leg. He had surgery, and once he’d recovered enough to be moved, I brought him here. He’s waiting for a spot to open up for him in a rehab facility. In the meantime, he’s withdrawing hard.”
“Shouldn’t it already be through his system?”
“Technically, yes, but Victor Bello is nothing if not resourceful. He always finds a way to poison himself. If licking windowsills would get him blitzed, he’d do it. Some days I visit him and he’s flying so high he doesn’t know who I am.”
“When will a spot open up?”
“It’s hard to say. These are public rehab centers. They’re free, so that’s good, but there’s always a wait and they’re cookie cutter. Very generic. My dad’s been in these before, and… I mean, they’re better than nothing, but I wish I could get him into a private facility because they’re customized to an individual’s specific needs.”
“But the private ones cost too much money?”
“Yes. I’ve tried to get Andrea to help me, maybe split the cost, but she and our father don’t get along.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
She trailed her fingers over the back of my hand so absently that I wasn’t sure if she realized she was doing it. “I wish you could have seen him before. Back in the day when he still had a job and was taking care of himself, he was strong and robust, filling out a suit with such swagger. I can still remember the smell of his cologne and the way he slicked his hair back. I didn’t think there was a dad alive as handsome as mine. I barely recognize the man in there. If we passed on the street, I might not even know it was him. But I know he’s still in there, my handsome, loving dad, and that is why I fight.”
I nodded, finding her passion so appealing and real. She made me wonder why I’d ever wanted an uncomplicated girl when I could have one like Jess, a woman who lived and felt and fought like hell.
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“Yes, he is.” She smiled. “Who’s lucky to have you, Quinn?”
“You.”
Jess blinked, surprised. “Are you mine?”
“I could be.”
She studied me, like an experiment she wasn’t sure had gone right. “Why do you like me so much? You basically have your pick of amazing women, and yet you go on a worldwide hunt for one working class girl. Why?”
“Because my whole life I’ve struggled to connect with people. After the kidnapping, I was different. Changed. For the longest time I thought I was broken because I could never relate to anyone outside of my family. And then along came my getaway girl, and suddenly I realized maybe I just needed you to fix me. Jess, I think you unbroke me.”
She appeared almost shaken by my words. I pressed my thumb against her lip and she turned her head into me, her eyes closing, giving in. I kissed the line of her jaw, then her ears, and finally started working down over her throat.
She didn’t resist, but she didn’t encourage, either. I could feel a heaviness coming off her that hadn’t been there before. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Listen, Quinn,” she said, running her finger through the wayward strand of hair flipping around my ears. “Remember when you told me all I needed was one piece of your puzzle to know everything about you? Well, I also have a missing a piece of the puzzle—one that explains everything about me. It explains why I’m no longer that girl who broke into my mother’s home. It explains why I didn’t text you back. This piece is everything. And I didn’t tell you the day we met because I didn’t think you could handle it. I like you way more than I care to admit, and it killed me to ignore your texts. But this piece, Quinn…” She shook her head. “It could be a game changer for us.”
As far as I was concerned, there was nothing she could say, short of telling me she was married that would detract me from my mission—which was winning the girl.
“Hey.” I kissed her. It was brief and tender, but it was only meant for comfort. “I think you forgot that I grew up in a tornado. There isn’t much I can’t handle.”
She watched me, analyzing. Deciding.
“Actually, change of plans. I was going to tell you, but I think maybe it’s better if I show you instead.”
* * *
I followed Jess inside a seventies-style brown and brick building—a community center, according to the sign out front. There were a handful of entrances, all appearing to lead to different offices. But Jess knew exactly where she was going, and with each step I took, so did I. The sounds of children playing was my first clue. The second was the large multipurpose room decorated in colorful splashes of paint with child-friendly activities all around. The third was the large play area out back with scores of kids running about. It was then that I knew. Jess had a kid.
