Jax had begun working out with Jared and me about a year ago, and while he was still young and growing, he could hold his own with both of us. He took care of himself the way other kids his age didn’t. He had a thing about being healthy and while he dabbled in alcohol here and there, he never touched cigarettes or drugs.
In fact he had a huge problem with drugs. A guy offered him weed once, and he flipped out.
Fallon squeezed my hand, smirking at my jealous demand for him to put on a shirt.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re lucky I put on pants, dude. What’s up?”
I motioned to the stairs. “Let’s step into your office.”
He turned, and we followed him upstairs to his lair. Or that’s what I joked it was. Jared’s mom, Katherine—and my soon-to-be-stepmom—had taken Jax out of foster care and brought him home with her so that her son could have his brother with him.
Unfortunately, Jax was the sun, moon, and stars to her, and she spoiled him rotten. Jared got the mom that put herself first and neglected him, and Jax got the mature mom who’d grown up and behaved responsibly. Jared got left alone, and Jax got home-cooked meals and a number one fan at his lacrosse games.
It was fine, though. He damn well deserved a break after the childhood he’d had, and Jared was happy that his family had finally come together.
Jax had been allowed to take Jared’s bedroom when he moved to college and used the spare room as his “office.” You walked in and felt like you were in an FBI surveillance van. It was dark and a little intimidating with switches, screens, and wires snaking up and down the walls. Six huge touch-screen monitors lined the wall, three in each row, and then there was a seventh propped on a tripod that Jax used to control all of them. There were three long tables lined with electronics that I wouldn’t have the first clue about as well as a PC and a laptop.
When I asked him last year why he needed all of this, he’d simply said that he played a lot of video games.
Yeah, this wasn’t gaming. This was severe.
But given Fallon’s and my situation, I was grateful Jax was around. He might be able to issue paperwork that would have me extradited to the Sudan to stand trial for treason against their king—or whatever they had—but he was on my side, so that was a plus.
“Whoa.” Fallon stopped short when we entered the room, and I ran into her back.
Steadying myself, I wrapped my arm around her gray T-shirt-clad waist and waited, letting her take it all in.
Everything was as I remembered, but it was still a lot to absorb. Every screen was active, a couple displaying line after line of code that was meaningless to me, while other screens had Web pages, documents, and IMs displayed. I had to blink several times, because my brain was on overload. How the hell did Jax look at all of this action every day?
“Jax . . .” Fallon started with concern thick in her voice.
Jax circled the room, switching off monitors and not looking at us.
“Ask me no questions, Fallon, and I’ll tell you no lies,” he said as if he’d read her mind.
Her eyes went round at me. “Okay,” she drawled out in a whisper.
“Hey, man. I need a favor.” I walked to one of his long tables where I spied a pen and paper. “Can you search this name? Patricia Caruthers.” I continued writing her other surnames as well as her phone number. “She might also be found under Patricia Pierce and Patricia Fallon. Look for police records, credit card statements, friends in low places, her social calendar . . .”
I handed him the paper.
“Patricia Caruthers. That’s your stepmom, right?” he asked, looking between Fallon and me.
“It’s my mom.” Fallon stepped in, glancing back at me before continuing. “Jax, I’m sorry we’re getting you involved, but she’s taking things too far with this divorce. We want to see if you can”—she shrugged apologetically—“get anything on her. To persuade her to back off, you know?”
His thoughtful eyes continued to shift between Fallon and me, but he finally nodded. “Give me a few hours.”
• • •
After we’d picked up Lucas, we went to Chevelle’s Diner for lunch and then headed to the skate park. I’d told Lucas where we were going at the restaurant as I walked him to the bathroom—and stood guard outside the door, because of creepers. He’d never been skateboarding. I also told him to keep his flippin’ mouth shut. I wanted to surprise Fallon, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how she’d take the idea. So I decided to ambush her.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? That’s my motto.
My phone kept buzzing in my pocket as I drove, and I felt for the power button through my pants, switching it off.
Fallon looked over at me, narrowing her eyes on my pants.
I grabbed her hand. “Stop checking me out.”
She rolled her eyes.
My mom and dad had been calling and texting for the last hour. And I knew why. I didn’t want Fallon worrying, though.
They knew we were together, and I knew how they knew.
I didn’t blame Addie for telling them, though. She would never have volunteered the information. One of them must’ve talked to her and asked about my whereabouts. Addie couldn’t lie, not that she should.
My mom was far away in New Orleans. I didn’t worry about her showing up tonight.
My dad, on the other hand, might be surprising us.
And at this point, it was do or die. I wasn’t giving up Fallon.
In fact he had a huge problem with drugs. A guy offered him weed once, and he flipped out.
Fallon squeezed my hand, smirking at my jealous demand for him to put on a shirt.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re lucky I put on pants, dude. What’s up?”
I motioned to the stairs. “Let’s step into your office.”
He turned, and we followed him upstairs to his lair. Or that’s what I joked it was. Jared’s mom, Katherine—and my soon-to-be-stepmom—had taken Jax out of foster care and brought him home with her so that her son could have his brother with him.
Unfortunately, Jax was the sun, moon, and stars to her, and she spoiled him rotten. Jared got the mom that put herself first and neglected him, and Jax got the mature mom who’d grown up and behaved responsibly. Jared got left alone, and Jax got home-cooked meals and a number one fan at his lacrosse games.
It was fine, though. He damn well deserved a break after the childhood he’d had, and Jared was happy that his family had finally come together.
Jax had been allowed to take Jared’s bedroom when he moved to college and used the spare room as his “office.” You walked in and felt like you were in an FBI surveillance van. It was dark and a little intimidating with switches, screens, and wires snaking up and down the walls. Six huge touch-screen monitors lined the wall, three in each row, and then there was a seventh propped on a tripod that Jax used to control all of them. There were three long tables lined with electronics that I wouldn’t have the first clue about as well as a PC and a laptop.
When I asked him last year why he needed all of this, he’d simply said that he played a lot of video games.
Yeah, this wasn’t gaming. This was severe.
But given Fallon’s and my situation, I was grateful Jax was around. He might be able to issue paperwork that would have me extradited to the Sudan to stand trial for treason against their king—or whatever they had—but he was on my side, so that was a plus.
“Whoa.” Fallon stopped short when we entered the room, and I ran into her back.
Steadying myself, I wrapped my arm around her gray T-shirt-clad waist and waited, letting her take it all in.
Everything was as I remembered, but it was still a lot to absorb. Every screen was active, a couple displaying line after line of code that was meaningless to me, while other screens had Web pages, documents, and IMs displayed. I had to blink several times, because my brain was on overload. How the hell did Jax look at all of this action every day?
“Jax . . .” Fallon started with concern thick in her voice.
Jax circled the room, switching off monitors and not looking at us.
“Ask me no questions, Fallon, and I’ll tell you no lies,” he said as if he’d read her mind.
Her eyes went round at me. “Okay,” she drawled out in a whisper.
“Hey, man. I need a favor.” I walked to one of his long tables where I spied a pen and paper. “Can you search this name? Patricia Caruthers.” I continued writing her other surnames as well as her phone number. “She might also be found under Patricia Pierce and Patricia Fallon. Look for police records, credit card statements, friends in low places, her social calendar . . .”
I handed him the paper.
“Patricia Caruthers. That’s your stepmom, right?” he asked, looking between Fallon and me.
“It’s my mom.” Fallon stepped in, glancing back at me before continuing. “Jax, I’m sorry we’re getting you involved, but she’s taking things too far with this divorce. We want to see if you can”—she shrugged apologetically—“get anything on her. To persuade her to back off, you know?”
His thoughtful eyes continued to shift between Fallon and me, but he finally nodded. “Give me a few hours.”
• • •
After we’d picked up Lucas, we went to Chevelle’s Diner for lunch and then headed to the skate park. I’d told Lucas where we were going at the restaurant as I walked him to the bathroom—and stood guard outside the door, because of creepers. He’d never been skateboarding. I also told him to keep his flippin’ mouth shut. I wanted to surprise Fallon, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how she’d take the idea. So I decided to ambush her.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? That’s my motto.
My phone kept buzzing in my pocket as I drove, and I felt for the power button through my pants, switching it off.
Fallon looked over at me, narrowing her eyes on my pants.
I grabbed her hand. “Stop checking me out.”
She rolled her eyes.
My mom and dad had been calling and texting for the last hour. And I knew why. I didn’t want Fallon worrying, though.
They knew we were together, and I knew how they knew.
I didn’t blame Addie for telling them, though. She would never have volunteered the information. One of them must’ve talked to her and asked about my whereabouts. Addie couldn’t lie, not that she should.
My mom was far away in New Orleans. I didn’t worry about her showing up tonight.
My dad, on the other hand, might be surprising us.
And at this point, it was do or die. I wasn’t giving up Fallon.
