Chapter One
Jace
“Alright, peanut, your mom’sshift is almost over. Let’s go downstairs,” I said, picking up the books scattered across the floor of my apartment and tossing them into Kaylee’s backpack.
“Aww,” Kaylee complained with a pout. “I don’t want to go home yet.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at me.
I’d be more intimidated if I hadn’t seen that glare more days than not over the last three and a half years.
“Kaylee, it’s already past your bedtime. Your mom asked me to bring you downstairs at the end of her shift, which is in five minutes.” I glared right back into her chocolate-brown eyes. “Please pick up your toys so we’re not late to meet her.”
Kaylee sighed and started picking up her MAGNA-TILES, tossing them into her backpack one at a time.
Well, at least she’s moving in the right direction.
I dug into one of the many cardboard boxes stacked in the living room for an overshirt to wear with the black T-shirt I had on already.
“Jace, why are your clothes in boxes?” Kaylee asked, her dark brown ponytail bouncing as she started gathering the pile of crayons and coloring books.
I settled on a dark green shirt and slipped my arms through. “Because I’ve only got two more nights here, remember?” I walked to the front door and stepped into a pair of black boots, bending down to tie the laces as Kaylee zipped up her backpack.
I’d been living in the apartment above Harrison’s Bar and Pub, which was owned by my uncle, Adrian, for almost ten years. I didn’t reallyneeda bigger space right now, since it was just me, but I was thirty-two and I’d been ready for a place that felt like my own for a while. If it hadn’t been for Kaylee and her mom, Olivia, who worked downstairs at the bar, I probably would have moved out a few years ago. It was going to be hard to adjust to seeing them less often.
“Will you still live alone?” Kaylee asked as she walked toward me, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes, and thanks for rubbing in my loneliness, kid,” I said, gently grinding a knuckle on her head and pulling her into a headlock.
She giggled and squirmed to get away. “Mom said you live alone because you want to be alone.”
I let her go and pointed to a book on the floor she’d missed. Kaylee was only three and a half but was almost ready to start learning how to read. She carried around a half a dozen books everywhere she went and was exceptionally smart for her age, often remembering—and repeating—many of her mother’s words verbatim.
“Yeah, well, your mom is a bartender, not a therapist. Remind me to tell her not to psychoanalyze me.”
“You can live with me and Mom!” Kaylee exclaimed as she grabbed the last book from the living room and ran back to me. I took it from her and put it in her backpack, trying to hide my wince.
That offer hits a little too close to home, kid.
Shortly before learning she was pregnant with Kaylee, Olivia had walked into Harrison’s Bar and Pub looking for a job. She’d captivated me instantly, and while I normally moved quickly when I was interested in someone, she’d had a look in her eyes that made me think she was thinking about someone else from time-to-time and I’d been too afraid of rejection to make a move. Even then, I’d known she’d never be a fling for me—not like everyone else I’d gotten involved with before—and I hadn’t wanted to ask her out if there was a chance I’d be a rebound date for her.
A few weeks after she’d started at the bar, I’d sat down at the counter one night after work just to have an excuse to talk to her. It was a slow night and she’d seemed distracted until she’d leaned against the bar with glassy eyes and asked me about my experience in being adopted.
I didn’t think she had any idea what she was really asking me. All she knew from her time at the bar was that I’d been adopted by my moms. What she got was me opening up to her about my traumatic past and how that resulted in being adopted at fifteen. I’d found her so easy to talk to that I’d told her everything, despite the terribly vulnerable feeling it had created. I rarely talked about my life before my adoption with anyone other than my therapist or my moms, but she’d made me feel so safe to be honest that my story had poured out of me before I’d even realized what I’d done.
She must have found me equally easy to talk to—at least after I’d shared something so vulnerable—because she’d responded by saying she was pregnant, and the baby’s father wasn’t in the picture. He’d been aone-night stand and she’d been wondering if she should give the baby up for adoption.
Seeing the sad look in her eyes, I knew I’d do anything to support her, no matter what she chose. However, in the process of trying to be there for her, I’d accidently cemented myself in the friendzone. When she decided at the end of the first trimester that she wanted to keep the baby, I helped her put together a crib, painted Kaylee’s room, and quickly became the person Olivia called when she needed help. We became close friends while I tried to hide the fact that what I really wanted was to be the person she could see herself with romantically.
I’d never thought of myself as a coward, but here I was, four years after meeting the woman of my dreams, and still too afraid to tell her how I felt. I knew if I stayed silent, I’d get to keep Olivia and Kaylee in my life. Coming clean meant I might lose them. I’d spent too long loving both of them to take that gamble—even though there were moments when I thought I’d win if I tried.
“Jace!” Kaylee yelled, snapping me out of my reverie. “Let’s go.”
“Right, sorry. Thanks for the offer, kiddo, but I’ll still visit you plenty.” I opened the door and she raced down the stairs, making my chest clench as I envisioned her falling and tumbling down to the floor below.
I guess I’ve developed parenting instincts.
“Slow down, Kaylee,” I called after her.
She huffed, but heeded my request, walking down the last few stairs.
