“That’s not why I’m telling you. I realized I wanted to play with him only because he reminded me of you.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”
She chuckled at his honesty. “I know we can’t capture what we were, but maybe, if we try, we can create something even better.”
Could they do that? Become something different, something more together than they were before?
His smile was slow, but he hoped she heard the truth of his words. “I think I’d like that.”
When Dena smiled, her real smile, not the fake plastic one she wore to political fund-raisers, she transformed from merely beautiful to ethereal. She made it hard to breathe.
“Oh, thank God,” she said.
He leaned a hip against the countertop and crossed his arms. “I’m sure you have lines, rules, and expectations already planned out?” he asked, half joking.
“I have a few suggestions.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
“Let’s have no lines, rules, or expectations.”
He didn’t even try to cover his shock. “Do I know you?”
She playfully held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Dena J. I’m rich as sin, the daughter of a senator, and a lawyer who has no interest in becoming a superior court judge. I’m outgoing, have a sarcastic sense of humor, and tend to get into trouble easily.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
She beamed. “Your turn.”
“Hi, Dena J.,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m Jeff Parks. I dropped out of high school, never went to college, and likewise have no interest in becoming a superior court judge. I’m introverted, hard to get to know, and have no originality in naming my dogs.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Parks.”
Jeff kissed her hand, grinned, and for the first time in years, felt something a lot like hope.
Dena hadn’t been sure how long she would stay. She’d told Cole not to go too far away, but he’d just laughed and said to text if she needed him, but he doubted she would. It pained her that Cole had more insight into Jeff than she did, because it’d taken only one look at Jeff’s expression when he opened the door to know he was glad to see her.
After talking with Jeff in the kitchen, seeing him smile, and hearing him laugh, she couldn’t leave. She wanted to stay. Especially when the hospice nurse called and said she was running late.
“Hell,” Jeff said, hanging up the phone. “I don’t know what to do with him.”
She pressed her lips together. She knew he didn’t get along with his father. It must be hard on him now to return to this house to care for his terminally ill dad.
“I can help,” she said.
“You get queasy putting on a Band-Aid.”
She opened her mouth to argue but promptly closed it. He was right.
“He’s sleeping right now anyway,” Jeff said. “It might be that he’ll stay that way until the nurse shows up.”
“What are the doctors saying?”
“That it’s a matter of time.”
“Didn’t they say that a few weeks ago?”
He nodded. “He’s hanging on.”
She touched his shoulder tentatively. “And you’re having to deal with this all on your own.”
“You do what you have to do.” He said it with a shrug, like it was no big deal, but she saw the fatigue in his eyes and the tension in the way he held himself. He wasn’t sleeping well.
The idea hit her so suddenly, she didn’t even think about it before letting the words flow from her lips. “Let me move in here and help.”
She’d rarely seen Jeff speechless, but that did it.
“What?” he finally asked.
“Let me help. I’ll clean. I’ll … Well, I don’t cook, but I can help with anything else. At least if I’m here, you can get some sleep knowing someone else can watch your father for a while.”
“You know this will be the opposite of putting our relationship to the side.”
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm. “I wish I could take those words back.” And not just those. There were many words, said by both of them, she wished they could move beyond.
His expression softened and he placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.” He exhaled deeply. “Yes, please stay.”
Relief flooded her. “Do we need to make your dad lunch? How long will he sleep?”
“Now I know aliens have invaded your body. You’re going to make lunch?”
She was so glad easy-going Jeff was back. “When I said, ‘Should we make lunch,’ I meant ‘Should you make lunch.’”
“Thank goodness. You really had me worried there for a minute.”
Neither one of them moved, and they both seemed to remember at the same time that he still had his hand over hers. He squeezed it and brought his lips to hers. “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded at the brush of his mouth on hers. “You’re welcome.”
He pulled back with a moan, saying he needed to start the soup for lunch. He said it was one of the few foods his father could keep down. Dena watched as he worked in the kitchen. She’d always enjoyed being in the kitchen while he cooked. They used to chat while he prepared meals. Some of their most intimate discussions happened in his kitchen.
But at that moment, she couldn’t settle on any one question to ask to get the conversation started. Once upon a time, words had flowed freely between them. Now it was just awkward.
“Nathaniel said you thought you recognized the caller’s voice the last time he called,” Jeff finally said, breaking the silence. “Which makes me think I overlooked someone when I was going through your past cases.”
She knew that possibility was eating him alive. “Seriously, I think it’s nothing or else he would have done something else by now. Escalated it somehow. Besides that one note, he’s still just calling. That’s probably all he means to do.”
“Careful with the assumptions there, Counselor.” He ladled some steaming beef broth into a bowl to cool. “You and I both know nothing good comes from assuming things. And this time it’s dangerous.”
“Yes, but in this case—”
“Dena, stop.”
His sharp tone surprised her so much, she actually stopped talking. She pursed her lips together and waited for him to continue.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”
She chuckled at his honesty. “I know we can’t capture what we were, but maybe, if we try, we can create something even better.”
Could they do that? Become something different, something more together than they were before?
His smile was slow, but he hoped she heard the truth of his words. “I think I’d like that.”
When Dena smiled, her real smile, not the fake plastic one she wore to political fund-raisers, she transformed from merely beautiful to ethereal. She made it hard to breathe.
“Oh, thank God,” she said.
He leaned a hip against the countertop and crossed his arms. “I’m sure you have lines, rules, and expectations already planned out?” he asked, half joking.
“I have a few suggestions.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
“Let’s have no lines, rules, or expectations.”
He didn’t even try to cover his shock. “Do I know you?”
She playfully held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Dena J. I’m rich as sin, the daughter of a senator, and a lawyer who has no interest in becoming a superior court judge. I’m outgoing, have a sarcastic sense of humor, and tend to get into trouble easily.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
She beamed. “Your turn.”
“Hi, Dena J.,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m Jeff Parks. I dropped out of high school, never went to college, and likewise have no interest in becoming a superior court judge. I’m introverted, hard to get to know, and have no originality in naming my dogs.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Parks.”
Jeff kissed her hand, grinned, and for the first time in years, felt something a lot like hope.
Dena hadn’t been sure how long she would stay. She’d told Cole not to go too far away, but he’d just laughed and said to text if she needed him, but he doubted she would. It pained her that Cole had more insight into Jeff than she did, because it’d taken only one look at Jeff’s expression when he opened the door to know he was glad to see her.
After talking with Jeff in the kitchen, seeing him smile, and hearing him laugh, she couldn’t leave. She wanted to stay. Especially when the hospice nurse called and said she was running late.
“Hell,” Jeff said, hanging up the phone. “I don’t know what to do with him.”
She pressed her lips together. She knew he didn’t get along with his father. It must be hard on him now to return to this house to care for his terminally ill dad.
“I can help,” she said.
“You get queasy putting on a Band-Aid.”
She opened her mouth to argue but promptly closed it. He was right.
“He’s sleeping right now anyway,” Jeff said. “It might be that he’ll stay that way until the nurse shows up.”
“What are the doctors saying?”
“That it’s a matter of time.”
“Didn’t they say that a few weeks ago?”
He nodded. “He’s hanging on.”
She touched his shoulder tentatively. “And you’re having to deal with this all on your own.”
“You do what you have to do.” He said it with a shrug, like it was no big deal, but she saw the fatigue in his eyes and the tension in the way he held himself. He wasn’t sleeping well.
The idea hit her so suddenly, she didn’t even think about it before letting the words flow from her lips. “Let me move in here and help.”
She’d rarely seen Jeff speechless, but that did it.
“What?” he finally asked.
“Let me help. I’ll clean. I’ll … Well, I don’t cook, but I can help with anything else. At least if I’m here, you can get some sleep knowing someone else can watch your father for a while.”
“You know this will be the opposite of putting our relationship to the side.”
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm. “I wish I could take those words back.” And not just those. There were many words, said by both of them, she wished they could move beyond.
His expression softened and he placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.” He exhaled deeply. “Yes, please stay.”
Relief flooded her. “Do we need to make your dad lunch? How long will he sleep?”
“Now I know aliens have invaded your body. You’re going to make lunch?”
She was so glad easy-going Jeff was back. “When I said, ‘Should we make lunch,’ I meant ‘Should you make lunch.’”
“Thank goodness. You really had me worried there for a minute.”
Neither one of them moved, and they both seemed to remember at the same time that he still had his hand over hers. He squeezed it and brought his lips to hers. “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded at the brush of his mouth on hers. “You’re welcome.”
He pulled back with a moan, saying he needed to start the soup for lunch. He said it was one of the few foods his father could keep down. Dena watched as he worked in the kitchen. She’d always enjoyed being in the kitchen while he cooked. They used to chat while he prepared meals. Some of their most intimate discussions happened in his kitchen.
But at that moment, she couldn’t settle on any one question to ask to get the conversation started. Once upon a time, words had flowed freely between them. Now it was just awkward.
“Nathaniel said you thought you recognized the caller’s voice the last time he called,” Jeff finally said, breaking the silence. “Which makes me think I overlooked someone when I was going through your past cases.”
She knew that possibility was eating him alive. “Seriously, I think it’s nothing or else he would have done something else by now. Escalated it somehow. Besides that one note, he’s still just calling. That’s probably all he means to do.”
“Careful with the assumptions there, Counselor.” He ladled some steaming beef broth into a bowl to cool. “You and I both know nothing good comes from assuming things. And this time it’s dangerous.”
“Yes, but in this case—”
“Dena, stop.”
His sharp tone surprised her so much, she actually stopped talking. She pursed her lips together and waited for him to continue.
