The Storm (The Storm #4) (2 page)

I’m on a call with Zane, the vice president of my label, when Stuart walks into my office.

Stuart, my assistant, is basically the guy who keeps my life in order, and he has saved my ass more times than I can count. He’s also one of my best friends.

The instant I see Stuart’s face, I know that something’s wrong. I watch him approach my desk and sit down in the chair opposite me.

I quickly wrap up the call with Zane and place my cell on the desk.

“What’s up?” I ask Stuart.

He presses his lips together and exhales a breath through his nose. “I just finished a call with a lawyer.”

That’s no biggie. We get calls from lawyers all the time.

“So? What is it? A copyright lawsuit or some other ridiculous shit?”

“No. It’s…” He stops and fidgets in his seat.

He’s stalling. I hate it when he stalls because that means it’s something big.

“Just spit it out, for fuck’s sake,” I tell him.

“It’s a paternity suit.”

“Paternity suit?” I frown. “Against who?”

“You. A paternity suit has been filed against you, Jake.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I shake my head.

Then, the words sink in fast, and the bottom drops out of my perfect world. I get angry, really fucking angry. Fear and rage tear through my veins.

“That’s bullshit!” I yell. “This is just some idiot trying to get a payday! It’s impossible, for one thing. I
always
wore condoms. I never had sex without one.” Tru is the only person I haven’t used them with. “So, you can tell this gold digger and her lawyer to fuck the hell off!”

“Condoms aren’t infallible, Jake.”

I scowl at Stuart, and he releases a sigh. Tipping his head back, he runs his hand through his hair. When he looks at me again, I see it written all over his face—there’s more.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly. “The suit isn’t filed just against you. There’s one against—fuck, how do I say this?”

“You just fucking say it,” I snap again.

I don’t mean to snap, but it’s kind of hard not to right now. And Stuart knows me. He knows how I am. He knows I don’t mean it.

“Jonny,” he breathes the name out.

My heart stops.

“The suit is also filed against Jonny. Same woman. She’s not sure who the father is—you or Jonny.”

Jonny. My dead best friend.

“What the actual fuck? How can she file against Jonny? Jesus Christ!” Standing, I shove my chair back and it slams into the wall behind me.

“Do you remember a girl named Tiffany Slater?” Stuart asks.

Tiffany Slater.
I toss the name around my head and come up dry.

“No,” I growl.

“I remember her. She was part of that group of girls in the early days. I drove her home a few times. She was sweet. Blonde hair. She stuck in my mind because…well, she suddenly dropped off the radar, stopped coming around.”

“Plenty of girls stopped coming around when they realized they weren’t getting anything more than a fuck from me.”

“She was one of the girl’s that you and Jonny used to share.”

“I don’t remember her!” I yell. “I screwed a lot of women back then! Jonny and I shared a lot of women! You know that! Doesn’t mean I knocked any of them up!” I drag my hands through my hair. “So, what? She’s claiming that her kid is either mine or…Jonny’s?”

It’s right then, right as I say those words, that the ramifications of what this could mean hit me.

If that kid is mine…

Tru.

I don’t want anything to come between us.

But…if that kid is Jonny’s, then it means…it means I’ll get a piece of him back.

I slowly sink down into my chair.

“Jonny,” I breathe out his name, my eyes meeting Stuart’s.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

I know he’s thinking the same thing.

I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. “How old is the kid?”

“He’s thirteen.”

“He?”

“Yeah. His name is Storm.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Original.” I lean back in my chair, dragging my hands down my face. “So, why now? Why claim paternity after all these years?”

Discomfort flickers over Stuart’s face, and his hands curl around the arms of his chair. “She’s…dying, and she is the only family he has.”

“Jesus Christ,” I exhale. “What’s”—
killing her
—“wrong with her?”

“Cancer,” Stuart says quietly.

I stare at the wall behind Stuart. A hundred thoughts speed through my mind. The solemnness in the room is silently eating away at me.

“So, now what?” I quietly ask him.

“I call Jonny’s dad. I’m sure his lawyer will have spoken to him by now. Then, we arrange for this DNA test that they’re asking for. And I make sure this doesn’t get leaked to the press.”

“And…what do I do?”

Stuart gives me a steady look. “You go home and tell Tru.”

Fear curls in the pit of my stomach. Resting my elbows on my desk, I run my hands through my hair. “How do I tell her this?”

“Gently. You tell her gently, Jake.”

“This is gonna hurt her—badly.”

“It will, but she’s strong. You’ve both gotten through worse.”

I know he’s referring to Tru’s car accident—when she almost died, when I was close to losing her.

I can’t lose Tru, no matter what.

Tru, JJ, Billy, and Belle—they are everything to me.

Everything.

My life is perfect. Fucking perfect. I have the woman of my dreams and the best kids a man could ask for. And now this? It’s going to rip all of that apart.

When I woke up this morning, surrounded by the most important people in my life, little did I know I’d be hearing this potentially, life-changing news a few hours later.

I guess I can never escape my past. It was destined to come back and haunt me in one way or another.

“I’m gonna go make these calls.” Stuart stands. “Anything I can do before I go?”

I move my eyes back to his face and shake my head.

“It’s going to be okay, Jake. You’ll do this DNA test. We’ll find out that he’s not yours, and then everything will go back to normal.”

“And what if…” I can barely bring myself to say the words because, yeah, there is hope in me. “What if he’s Jonny’s?”

“Then…” A small smile touches his lips. “Then, our world is about to get a whole lot brighter.”

And if Storm is not Jonny’s and he is in fact mine, then my world is about to get a whole lot darker.

Standing in the doorway, I watch her…the first, last and only woman I will ever love.

Tru.

She’s barefoot in the kitchen, hips swaying to the sound of Etta James’s “At Last,” as she softly sings along while uncorking a bottle of wine.

And my heart fucking breaks at the sight.

It breaks because I know I’m about to break hers.

I’m about to put a crack in the life we’ve built together.

I just pray to God that fissure isn’t too deep that we can’t keep it together.

She turns, seeing me. “Hey!” She looks a little surprised. “I didn’t realize you were home. What are you doing, standing there, watching me?” The smile on her face is warm and wanting and everything.

She is everything.

“So, the kids are at Mum and Dad’s. I thought I’d get the wine ready.” She starts to walk toward me, her feet padding softly across the floor.

When she reaches me, she places her hands on my chest and pushes up on her toes. “Hi,” she whispers on a smile before pressing her lips on mine.

She tastes like heaven.

I have to tell her. But first…

I take her face in my hands, and I kiss her hard. I kiss her with the force of every year that I have loved this woman.

I want her to feel how much I love her…before I hurt her.

“Wow,” she whispers, her breathing unsteady. “I guess you really want me, huh?”

God, I want her.

The teasing smile on her lips should be inviting, but all it does is hurt, making this so much harder.

I rub the tips of my fingers across her forehead, brushing back her hair. “We need to talk.”

“Can it wait? We have a children-free night, and—”

“It can’t wait.” My tone is firm. Before I lose my nerve, I take hold of her hand and lead her over to the breakfast stools, the stools where my kids eat breakfast every morning.

God, I feel sick.

I can feel Tru’s eyes on me, but I can barely look at her.

She sits up on a stool. “So, what do we need to talk about?” Her voice is unsteady.

I hear the waver, the nerves in her tone.

I’m nervous, too—no, scrap that.
Nervous
doesn’t even touch it. I’m fucking terrified.

Swallowing down, I unbutton the top button on my shirt, loosening the collar with my fingers. Then, I meet her eyes.

“We had a call today from a lawyer.” Pausing—well, more like delaying—I swallow down.

Tru’s eyes, hawk-like, are watching me. It’s almost like she’s trying to read the words on my face before I say them.

I take a deep breath and force the words out. “It’s about a woman…and a kid—a boy. The woman, his mother—she’s claiming that…well, that he’s…mine…or Jonny’s.”

I watch as my words hit her. It’s like a physical strike. She recoils back as her hand reaches for the counter, gripping it.

Shock morphs into hurt, and pain pulls at her features.

I force myself to hold steady even though all I really want to do is break down and grab her, hold her, tell her how sorry I am.

“How old is the boy?”

That’s the first thing she wants to ask me? It’s not what I expected her to say.

Then, it hits me why she’s asking that.

She wants his age, so she’ll know if I’ve cheated on her during the time we’ve been together.

Anger wells inside me. But getting pissed off with Tru right now is neither wise nor necessary. It’s not like I’m in the position to kick off with the moral high ground.

I have just dropped the bombshell that I’m being sued for paternity.

“He’s thirteen,” I say through gritted teeth.

I see a small amount of relief briefly flicker through her eyes.

Smoothing her hands down her thighs, she blows out a breath. Then, she shifts to the side and gets up from the stool. On her feet, she walks across the kitchen. She turns off the music. Then, she stands there, her hands pressed on the counter, facing away from me.

“Tru…talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” She spins around, her face now hard. Anger flares in those eyes I love so much, pain dancing around the edges of them. “Congratulations? Am I supposed to congratulate you on becoming a father again?”

“Don’t…” I angrily work my jaw, looking away from her. “I’m not a father again. I’m only a father to our children, the
only
children I have.” I bite each word out.

“Not according to this woman!” she yells, throwing her hands up in the air. When they come back down, they slap against her thighs.

“An accusation. That’s all it is, Tru. It’s not even an accusation. It’s just a…”

“A, what, Jake? What is it? All I’m hearing right now is that you could have another child with another woman!”

“He’s not mine. I know he isn’t.” I stare steadily into her eyes. “And it’s not just me she’s claiming against. It’s Jonny, too.”

“And that’s just fucking great! This woman is claiming that either you or your dead best friend knocked her up all those years ago. I mean, what the hell? You fucked the same women—actually, you know what? I don’t want to know!”

She presses her hands to her ears, violently shaking her head for a moment. Then, her hands drop, and her eyes lower to her feet.

“Why now? What does she want?” she whispers.

I can hear the tears in her words, and my chest feels like it’s cracking open.

“She’s dying.” I clear my throat. “And she’s the only family the kid has. Maybe she’s…I don’t know. Maybe she’s looking for someone to take care of him when she’s gone.”

Tru’s eyes snap up to mine. They’re angry and filled with tears. She swipes at them, her lips curling in disgust—at me presumably. I can feel her contempt like a hand around my throat, choking me.

“I honestly don’t know what the hell to do with this, Jake. I mean, I just…I need to get out of here. I need some time to think.” She marches through the kitchen, heading for the door.

As she passes me, I grab her arm, stopping her. “Tru, wait. Please. Just stay and talk to me.”

“No.” She yanks her arm from mine, meeting my stare. Her eyes are laced with venom. “You are the last person I want to talk to right now. I’ve heard enough from you to last me a fucking lifetime.”

I watch her walk out of the kitchen. Then, I hear the front door slam, and her car engine revs a minute later.

And I don’t go after her.

I let her go.

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