Beth Ciotta - Out of Eden

“That’s flattering,” he said while loading a plate with cookies.

“Look. I know we’ve never been on great terms. As kids or adults,” she said in a tight, brittle voice. “But I…we…Madeline and me…need a place to spend the night.”

He should have said okay. Plain and simple. But there was nothing simple about their relationship. And he’d be damned if he’d let her freeze him out in his own house. “Why? Did Frank show up? Does he want to move back in?”

“No.”

“Did he call? Threaten you?”

“I haven’t talked to Frank in two weeks.”

“He calls to speak with his daughter, right?”

She didn’t answer.

Jack looked over his shoulder. “You’re kidding.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Frank never wanted…Madeline was…”

An accident? Unexpected? So what? Just when he thought his opinion of his brother-in-law couldn’t sink any lower. “You can stay here as long as you like, Jessie.”

“I don’t like it at all,” she said, still pacing, still drinking. “But I can’t impose on friends and I can’t afford the Orchard House.”

Jack blew over the personal jab and focused on the financial. “Are you telling me that fu—” He glanced toward the sound of cartoon voices and cheery music. “That Frank’s not supporting you?”

“I don’t want his money. I don’t want anything to do with him or anything that belonged to him—including the house. We’ll be fine. Madeline and me. I just want…I need to make my own way. And I will. Starting tomorrow. I mean, later today.”

Jack worked his jaw. She’d shut him out of her life for years. Avoided him like the plague since he’d returned home. He couldn’t help himself. He had to push. “What happened between fuck-off and showing up on my doorstep, Jessie? It had to be damned bad for you to come to me, in the middle of the night, no less.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I…I can’t.”

He noted the crack in her voice, the trembling of her hands. “Okay.”

“Please don’t grill me.”

“Fine.”

“Or think you have to save me.”

“You want to make it on your own.”

She stopped in her tracks. “You don’t think I can?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Just because I didn’t finish college or devote my life to some noble cause…” She trailed off and looked for a place to ditch the beer. She looked embarrassed, upset and exhausted.

“Why don’t we revisit this discussion after some shuteye?” Jack relieved her of the empty bottle, then grabbed the milk and cookies. “You keep Maddie company while I change my sheets.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that. Nicknames are…I don’t know.”

“Humanizing?”

“Undignified.”

“Jessie is undignified?”

“My name is Jessica. Jessica Lynn.”

“Sounds stuffy,” said Jack.

“To you, maybe. But it’s my given name and I’m proud of it.”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll call me Jessica? And Madeline, Madeline?”

“Probably not.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Why do you have to be so headstrong?”

He looked at her and smiled. “Runs in the family.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. After a thoughtful pause, she changed the subject. “Why do you have to change your sheets?”

“No furniture in the other two bedrooms yet,” he explained. “You and Maddie take my bed. I’ll take the couch.” Before she could argue, he slipped into the living room. His niece was fast asleep. So was Shy. They were curled up side by side—one hand, one paw on the stuffed bear.

Jessie groaned. “I hope she doesn’t get attached to that dog.”

Jack hoped the exact opposite.

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