Helen Brenna - The Pursuit of Jesse

“So what happened?”

“A month before the wedding, he went off the deep end. Got busted with so much cocaine and heroin he could’ve supplied a small army for a few months. That’s when his mom entered the picture in a big way.”

“Trish Coleman?” Missy asked. “One of Fortune 500’s most powerful women?”

“That’s her.” Sarah nodded. “Since I’d signed a prenup, she’d been cordial throughout the engagement and Brian’s birth. But when they charged Bobby, she went on the warpath. When she couldn’t get the police to drop the charges, she turned on me. Blamed me for what happened. Said that if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, Bobby would’ve been fine. That the pressure of being a father was too much for him.”

“So it was all your fault.”

“Basically. She said I’d been a bad influence and hired a private investigator to dig up anything he could on me. And, trust me.” Shame swept through Sarah as she glanced at Missy. “He found plenty.”

“Did she threaten to take Brian away from you?”

“Not right away,” Sarah whispered.

“Was Bobby in jail yet?”

“No. He was out on bail.”

“He did nothing to stop his mom?”

“Worse than nothing. He told me she didn’t matter. He told me that the possibility of going to jail had scared the hell out of him. He promised he’d straighten out. He promised he’d be there for me and Brian. He promised everything I needed to hear. And I believed him.”

It was his damned smile.

“I always knew you were a softy at heart,” Missy said.

Sarah sighed. “He went to jail, but Trish got him out on probation. He spent one night with me and then took off with friends. They found him dead a day later in the back room of some club. Heroin overdose.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Probably the best thing for everyone.”

“Did Bobby’s mom sue for custody of Brian?”

Sarah looked away. “Yeah. She did.”

“But you won.”

She nodded. “That’s when I moved back to Indiana.” In truth, she’d gone back to her mom and stepdad’s house defeated, her tail between her legs, and stayed there for years. Until she’d drummed up enough courage to strike out on her own again with Brian and move to Mirabelle.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about this.” Missy reached out and rubbed Sarah’s arm. “I would’ve closed the book on that chapter in my life, too.”

“Would’ve been nice if that chapter had never been written in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss what happened.” Missy smiled, her own experiences lending a quiet wisdom to her gaze. “It’s what’s gotten you to where you are today.”

In fact, she almost hadn’t lived through that time in her life. “Brian and I coming here for a long weekend is what got me to where I am today.”

That summer five years ago, she’d known almost upon stepping off the ferry that this was where she and Brian needed to live. Mirabelle had been the answer to getting out on her own for which she’d been looking. She’d been living—hiding—at her parents’ home long enough. It’d been long past time to strike out on her own again, and Mirabelle felt better than home.

“So much for my walk on the wild side,” Sarah said, smiling.

“So I take it Garrett’s brother reminds you all too much of Bobby?”

“They have the same smile.” Sarah swallowed, remembering Jesse’s face, the curve of his lips.

“The one that could charm a rosebud into blooming?”

Sarah laughed. “Exactly.”

“You’re attracted to him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Missy raised her eyebrows. “Is that so bad?”

Just looking at him brought back every one of those good-timing men Sarah had lost herself in. There was no way she was going down that path again. “It is when it’s coupled with jail time.”

“Garrett’s brother went to jail? What did he do?”

“I don’t know. Garrett’s leaving it to his brother to tell people, and when I asked Jesse, he refused to enlighten me.”

“Sarah, you know Garrett wouldn’t let anyone dangerous work with you on your house. Jesse must have his own reasons for keeping his past to himself. It’s hard to say what those reasons might be, but I’m sure they’re good ones.”

That was Missy. Always ready to give people the benefit of the doubt. Well, that wasn’t Sarah’s way. “That all depends on what Jesse did to land himself in prison, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Missy said. “But if you were immune to Jesse as a man that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

But she wasn’t immune. Not even close. One walk on the wild side had almost ruined her life. What kind of damage could a second one do?

THE PHOTOGRAPHS WERE ALWAYS the WORST, the hardest to look at on the entire website. Family positioned around Hank Bowman’s hospital bed. Hank forcing out a smile for the camera. His wife holding his hand. His mother looking at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Sitting on the bed with Garrett’s laptop in front of him, Jesse made himself face the images head-on. He forced himself to flip through every single photo and every single journal entry that had been loaded onto the website Hank’s sister had set up for their family and friends to keep track of Hank’s recovery.

Hank had spent not only his birthday in the hospital, but also that first Christmas and New Year’s after the accident—assault was more like it. He’d had to go back into the hospital several times over the course of the next couple of years for more surgeries. In every single one of the pictures Hank looked pale and bruised, thin and sickly.

Over the past four years, more than three thousand messages from friends and family expressing their best wishes for Hank’s recovery had accumulated and Jesse had read every single one of them at least once. Had even memorized a few.

There were also newspaper articles about the trial, or lack thereof. There was even a picture of Jesse handcuffed and coming out of the county jail. Family members expressed not only their disdain but also outright hostility toward Jesse. He didn’t blame them in the slightest.

There was only one bright spot in Hank’s entire ordeal. Hank had started a new career as a motivational speaker and already had released two successful self-help-type books. As far as Jesse was concerned the use of a man’s legs was too high a price to pay for financial success.

Finally, Jesse closed down the laptop and stood, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet. His throat dry from the winter air, he headed toward the kitchen. The moment the voices registered, quiet and intimate, he stopped and backed up.

“Come here,” Garrett whispered.

“Is that an order, Chief Taylor?”

“Damn right it is.”

So much for a glass of water. Jesse went to his bedroom and plopped down on the bed. Now they were moving around upstairs. One person went into the master bathroom. Then another. Then the sounds of water running. A shower. Together.

The more Jesse tried not to listen, the more his ears trained to the sounds. Footsteps across the floor. More footsteps in chase. Quiet laughter. Jesse laid on his back in bed, his eyes wide-open, sleep nothing but a pipe dream. He glanced at the clock. Past midnight. He had to get out of this place, but where the hell could he go?

More laughter.

That was it. He couldn’t stand another second of it. Pulling a sleeping bag and pad out of the closet in his room, he packed a bag with a few things and quietly walked outside.

Sarah’s house was empty. Hell, he spent most of the day there as it was. What difference would seven or eight more hours make whenever Erica and Garrett got a little too frisky upstairs? It’s not as if he’d make a regular habit out of sleeping at Sarah’s, so she’d never have to know.