The Fight for Us (23 page)

Harper’s eyes started to roll, but she quickly looked out the window instead, and by the time they’d pulled into the Chinese restaurant, she was sulking. God, he loved teenagers.

They were back at his place within thirty minutes, and when he entered the living room, Joss stepped down from a stepladder with a rag in her hand that she’d been using to wipe down the fireplace mantle.

“Can Harp and I eat in my room? Oh, and can Harp spend the night?” Nat asked excitedly, followed by both of the girls saying “please” in unison.

Apparently that tactic worked, because both he and Joss agreed easily enough.

“Sure, but when you’re finished eating, come out and help us with the tree.”

Harper looked at him wearily, letting her brows rise and pursing her lips before following Nat from the room.

“What was that all about?” Joss hadn’t missed a moment of their odd interaction, and as he lifted her to sit on the kitchen counter, she reached for an eggroll.

He shook his head as he pushed his way between her legs. “Nothing. I think I offended her earlier in the car.”

That seemed to raise some questions, and as she watched him expectantly, he contemplated. He could lie. She’d done it to him already today, and hers was far more of a lie than this would be. But liars sucked, and he didn’t want to be one. He also didn’t want to hurt her. She finally seemed normal; her brain was at least present and not off in space, worrying about something she could do nothing about at the moment.

“Isaiah, please.”

Apparently he was taking too long contemplating this, and he let out a huff of breath as he met her gaze, still not certain this was a good idea.

“Listen, I know Harp. She’s a sass, and after our morning…” Joss stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, I can just about guess she was feeling a bit snarky by this afternoon.”

What a lovely and completely appropriate way to describe her daughter. Obviously this wasn’t a secret he could hold from her, because she could nearly figure it out on her own simply by knowing her daughter well enough.

“Fine. She made a comment about you. She was just upset about the house being put on the market, and I told her to cut you some slack because you were too. I honestly don’t remember exactly what the comment was, but it irritated me.”

“I don’t know whether to be heartbroken about what she said or thankful you stuck up for me.”

“Option two, and you can thank me with that mouth of yours later.” He kissed her quickly, returning to his food after that. “Right now, we’re going to have a nice evening, and we’re not going to worry about it.” He took a bite off the eggroll she was holding in her hand before she could stop him.

Chapter Nineteen

The tree went up quickly, and Joss and Isaiah sat on the floor divvying out ornaments to the girls who bickered about what should go where. The entire evening felt incredibly familial. It felt comfortable and it felt right. Hell, it even felt healthy—not something Joss associated with relationships at this point in her life. The girls seemed to come alive around them. Nat looked so incredibly happy, and even Harper, who Joss knew was bent out of shape, was laughing and smiling. She’d very obviously stowed her offense at Isaiah, and as he tossed a small ornamental ball to her, she used the larger wreath ornament as a basketball hoop, dodging and weaving as the lightweight round ball soared through the air.

“Nothin’ but net!” she shrieked as the ball swooshed through the wreath, and then she high fived Isaiah. Harper had never in her life been around a normal dad—a real one, and as Joss watched them joking around comfortably, her throat constricted as she fought back the tears. She’d always wanted Harper to have this—an understanding of what a real man was, but Joss had never had a man like that in her life, and sadly, that meant Harper hadn’t either. Todd might be the asshole, but Joss blamed herself for not giving her daughter more.

By the time the girls disappeared to Nat’s bedroom to organize some more, it was nearly nine o’clock, and Joss was exhausted. Isaiah wasted no time pulling her to her feet. He stopped in the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine out of one box, a couple wine glasses out of another, and a corkscrew out of yet another, and then he pulled Joss down the hallway toward his bedroom.

The bed was on the interior wall, facing the French doors that opened out into the four-season room and the view of the water beyond. Her skin instantly prickled just seeing the damn window he’d had her against that morning. He caught her staring and chuckled as he studied her for a moment. He reached for her lower back, humming as he ran his hand under the hem of her shirt and over her skin. But he didn’t let them slip into the fuckery. He pulled away quickly and grabbed a set of flannel sheets from a nearby box.

She helped him put the sheets on the bed, and then she waited on the opposite side of the bed as he pulled the quilt from the box it had been packed in. But as he turned back toward her, his face fell and he seemed to freeze in place as he stared at the bed. The moment he saw her watching him, a very visible shiver ran through him, and his breath caught in his throat. She was still waiting for him to do something, but what he ended up doing was dropping the quilt back in the box and grabbing the large throw blanket that was sitting on his reading chair out in the four-season room.

When he tossed her the blanket, rather than helping her make the bed, she furrowed her brow. “What—”

“You’re supposed be relaxing, remember?”

She eyed him for a second, but then she shook away the confusion, deciding it was just beyond her at the moment. “I’d rather help.”

There was no way in hell she was going to sit on his bed while he worked. It was just poor form in her book. Frankly, she’d love nothing else than to be curled up in his bed, but not while he was busy. He rolled his eyes as she busied herself with a box that had been opened but was still full.

His back was to her as he worked on the bottle of wine. She reached into the box, paying little attention to what she was grabbing as she stared at his ass. It really was an incredible one—not that she’d been able to appreciate it un-clothed yet. He was patient after all… Fuck his inhuman patience that was driving her mad.

Her fingers grasped the straight edge of something hard, and as she pulled her hand out, she saw it was a frame. She turned it over in her hand, and then her heart sped, her face flushed, and her stomach clenched into a painful knot.

Isaiah’s image was looking back at her from the frame, smiling beautifully. In terms of Isaiah pictures, it was perfect, but he wasn’t alone in this picture. There was an equally beautiful woman at his side with her arm around him, and her free hand rested gently on his chest. The woman was stunning. Her skin was tawny and tanned, and her blonde hair was cut in a shoulder length bob, and it was straight as a board—the kind of straight that shimmered like a pool of light when the sun hit it, which it conveniently was in this picture. The wedding band on her hand was clearly visible, and her smile was just as brilliant as her husband’s beside her.

“I’m almost afraid to give you too much—” His voice broke off, and she knew he’d turned around. She couldn’t see him, because her eyes were so glued to the frame in her hand she couldn’t look up, but she heard the corkscrew hit the floor less than a second later.

“Joss—”

“Oh, God…” She wasn’t even sure her voice made a sound, but as she started looking around, she panicked. She glanced up at him—the wide eyes that stared back frozen on her ratcheted up that panic. “Oh, God…” She was a damn broken record. “I’m sorry. I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” Her mouth was trying to work, twitching, opening, and closing like she was a damn fish. “She’s…beautiful.”

Isaiah’s chest rose and fell, but he did nothing but stare at her.

“I just—” She didn’t have a clue what to say.

“Joss…this isn’t—”

“No…” She started shaking her head like an idiot. “It’s fine.” Nothing was fine. “She’s really, really beautiful, Isaiah.” What the fuck was she doing?

“Please, Joss. You don’t understand.” He looked devastated. She felt that way.

“Umm… You know, I’m really tired. I think… Can you take me home?”

“Please, Joss. I don’t want—”

“I’m just really tired.” Her eyes were tearing, and she wanted to run. This was his life she was holding in her hands, and it had been lurking in the back of their relationship from the moment she’d met the man, and today just wasn’t the day to come face to face with it.

“Please don’t go.” He was pleading, and she was falling apart.

She tried to smile. “It’s just been a long day. I think I’m just tired.” She was acting like a lunatic.

He watched her with his hands tucked under his arms. He looked like he was in pain, and his jaw was tense. His eyes were glossy, yet still looked startled and wide.

She glanced at the picture again, instantly regretting it with his attention so focused on her. Her breath hitched. “Natalie looks so much like her.” She was smiling like an idiot, and every attempt she made at acting normal seemed to make her just that much more insane.

His nostrils flared as she spoke, and he shook his head as it dropped to stare at the floor.

“Please just take me home. I can’t do this right now.” She was begging, and she wasn’t beyond walking herself home to flee from this.

“Fuck,” he muttered it, sounding nearly angry at her, and then he turned and walked out.

She left the framed picture on his bed and followed him. She felt like she needed to escape from him, and yet, she knew when he was gone, she would hate it.

He stalked down the hallway to Nat’s room as she followed him.

“I’m taking Joss home. I’ll be back in a while.”

“What’s wrong, Dad?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Nothing, babe. I’m just tired. I’ll be back.”

Joss peered around the doorway and into Nat’s bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harp. I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

“Cool.”

He said nothing to Joss when he turned and walked away. He grabbed his coat and his keys off the kitchen counter, and then she followed him, grabbing her own coat and slipping into it quickly. The drive to her place was just as silent, and the dread of what she was doing was creeping in around her. She was going to lose him. She could feel it. She was pushing him away, and he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, she couldn’t even force herself to behave like it was no big deal. Not this day. On this day, everything felt monumental for some reason.

He pulled into her driveway, and she didn’t wait for him to say anything before she climbed out. He didn’t seem any more interested in speaking to her now than he did on the ride over. She walked to the house as he sat in her driveway waiting for her to get inside.

She glanced at the clock as she dropped her purse and coat on the kitchen table. Ten o’clock. She picked up her cell phone, opting to text Steph first before she called her to unload her day, but just as she started typing, there was a knock on her door. She paused, her fingers trembling over the screen of the phone.

When she opened the door, Isaiah was standing there, raking his hand through his hair. “Don’t do this now.”

Her lips trembled as his eyes pled with her.

“If you need to fall apart, then do it. If you want to be angry, then yell at me.”

She shook her head.

“I know it’s been a shit day for you, and I’m sorry that you have to…to see my old life, but
this
is my life now. Please don’t be upset about this.”

“I’m not.” She wasn’t. And at the same time, she was. She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to feel anymore.

“Then don’t shut down on me now. Don’t walk away.”

She took a slow, deep breath and then nodded—though she doubted it was a very convincing nod. He finally stepped through her door, closing it behind him. He stared at her, saying nothing for an uncomfortably long time, and when he finally sighed, he took her hand and led her up to her bedroom. He pulled her suit jacket off, and she took it from him hanging it quickly in her closet. When she turned back, he was rifling through her dresser drawers. She watched him, letting him explore her underwear drawer. It was exceptionally quiet in her room, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she was relieved he was there.

He pulled the black garter from her underwear drawer, looking back at her. “You killed me with this. You know that?” He might be joking, but there was as much nervousness to his expression as anything else, and his voice was quiet.

She smiled, but it was weak, and her eyes felt barely open. When he was facing her again, his eyes looked just as tired. He no longer held the garter in his hand. Instead, it was a pair of flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt. About the polar opposite of her black garter.

He tossed both on the bed, and then he returned to her. He slipped the camisole over her head, throwing it in the laundry. He unclasped her bra, setting it aside as well, and then he pulled her to the side of the bed, sitting down and pulling her to stand between his legs. The clasp at the waist of her slacks was undone next, and he let them fall to the floor at her ankles. He gripped her waist with both hands, letting his head drop to her stomach. She stroked through his hair, and his hands tightened their hold on her.

Once he’d sat back up, he grabbed her pajama pants and T-shirt and helped her into them both before pulling her down to the bed. He was resting on his side, propped up on his elbow and looking down at her.

“Congratulations on your new house.”

She bit her lip, and he smiled. It was a small smile, but he looked as exhausted as she felt, and she got it. It had been a long ass day.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted.” She said.

“Don’t be. I keep thinking about what that would feel like were the situation reversed.” He shook his head. “It couldn’t have been easy.
I’m
sorry. You’ve had the rug pulled out from underneath you today. And this was just icing on the damn cake.”

“I was just… I don’t know. Surprised.” She glanced away. “Unprepared.”