The Storm (The Storm #4) (6 page)

She lets out a relieved-sounding laugh. “Yeah, I guess I was a little wild back then, too—before Storm was born. I changed the minute I found out I was pregnant.”

Bob rubs a hand on his back, and I can see that he’s struggling with standing.

“Let me get you a chair, Bob.” I get an armchair and pull it over, opposite Tiffany’s chair, so Bob can sit. I take a seat on the edge of the sofa adjacent to them.

“Marie, you can get back to the shop. I’ll be okay here.”

Marie gives her a dubious look. “You sure?”

For fuck’s sake, what does she think we’re going to do to Tiffany?

“I’m sure.” Tiffany smiles.

“You want me to make some tea before I go?”

“Do you want anything to drink?” Tiffany asks Bob and me.

“I could drink a tea,” Bob says.

“Jake?” Tiffany looks at me.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Tea for me and Bob would be great. Thanks, Marie.”

Tiffany watches Marie leave the room.

Then, she looks at Bob and me. “So, I’m sure you’ve got questions for me.”

“Look, I don’t want to be the asshole here, and at the risk of sounding like one, I’m going to get straight to the point. Obviously, you’ve come to us now because you need help with Storm. Without a doubt, that will happen. But I want to know how you see this playing out,” I say.

Bob gives me an annoyed look. But I don’t regret my words. It’s best to get this out of the way. Then, I’ll ask everything I can about the kid.

She stares at me for a moment. “I’m Storm’s only family. Honestly, I haven’t properly thought this through. I just know I’m running out of time.”

“We don’t need to talk about this now,” Bob cuts in. “This is a conversation for another day. Right now, I just want to know all there is to know about my grandson.”

Marie comes back with the tea, so I clamp my lips shut and let Bob ask his questions about Storm.

I listen intently for the next half an hour as Tiffany tells us about Storm’s life—how good his grades are in school and that he has some behavioral issues. But she skirts around that, glossing over details like any good mother would.

He likes music. That makes me happy. He plays guitar. That makes me even happier.

He’s Jonny kid for sure. The more she talks about Storm, the more I hear Jonny in her words.

I’ve stayed silent with my own questions for long enough, and now, I have to ask them. It might anger Bob, but I need to know. “Tiffany, I have to know…why didn’t you come to us when you found out you were pregnant? We could have helped. Jonny could have known his son.”

“Things were wild back then. We were all doing drugs and each other. It wasn’t a decision I came to lightly. Back then, I was in love with Jonny. Jake, you and I…” She looks away. “Well, I was with Jonny, too, and over that time, I fell in love. But I wasn’t his only. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I was or ever would be.”

“That might be, but he would have cared for his son.”

“Maybe you’re right. But back then, I couldn’t take that risk. When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know if the baby was yours or Jonny’s. God, I was so scared. My parents were deeply religious. I was already a huge disappointment, an embarrassment, to them. I didn’t know what to do. So…” She blows out a breath. “I decided to tell Jonny. No offense, Jake, but Jonny was always so much more approachable than you. He was less…intense, I guess. So, after I plucked up the courage to go see him, I went to your place in New York. There was a party happening, like usual. You weren’t there. Neither was Tom or Denny—that I saw. I looked around for Jonny. I finally found him in his bedroom…” She turns her eyes to Bob. “I’m so sorry to be saying these things about your son in front of you.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing you could say that would shock me, Tiffany. I knew my son, and I loved him all the same.”

She exhales slowly and looks back at me. “I went into his room. He was passed out on his bed…with a belt strapped around his arm and a used needle on the bed beside him. A couple of girls were passed out in the room—one on the bed, one on the floor. Cocaine was on the nightstand. Empty bottles of alcohol were everywhere. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, but being pregnant made me see it through clearer eyes. In that moment, I knew that I couldn’t bring a baby into that lifestyle. If I’d told Jonny I was pregnant, that’s exactly what would have happened.”

I knew those things about Jonny. I knew he’d injected from time to time. I never used the needle, but he had. I hated that he had, but I never tried to stop him. I was always high. What kind of hypocrite would I have been when I was barely sober for a day?

“My parents disowned me when I told them I wouldn’t give the baby up,” Tiffany continues. “So, I moved away from New York. I got a cheap condo in Queens. It was a struggle. I managed on welfare until Storm was a year old, and then I got a job working at Marie’s bakery. The job came with a room in the apartment above it. We’ve been here ever since. And we’ve been happy—until…I got sick, that is.”

I’m just about to ask her about her illness. How long does she have left? What’s going to happen to Storm when she’s gone?

But then I hear voices, and the front door opens and slams shut.

Tiffany’s eyes flash to the clock on the wall. “He’s home early,” she says.

“Did he know we’d be here?” I ask.

“Yes. He knew you were coming to see him. But I was expecting him at three thirty. He’s early, which means he left school an hour before he was supposed to, and that means he’s in trouble.”

“What exactly does he know about this situation?” I ask quietly, not believing I didn’t already ask this. “Does he know that I could have been…”

Tiffany shakes her head. “No. He knows there were two men…who could have potentially been his father,” she says the words quietly. “He knows about Jonny now, but he doesn’t know that you were the other man in the equation.”

Pulling my eyes from Tiffany, I stare at the open doorway, listening to the heavy footsteps in the hallway, my heart beating in double time.

Then, a second later, Jonny’s double appears in the doorway, and my heart goes into free fall.

I’m staring.

I know I’m staring.

But I feel like I’m back in the past. Every inch of Storm is Jonny. It’s terrifying and amazing at the same time.

Looking at Storm is like looking at Jonny the first time I met him when I moved to the States.

Storm is Jonny’s exact double—from his lean frame to the shagginess of his long dirty-blond hair that he keeps brushing out of his blue eyes…Jonny’s eyes. And they are staring straight back at me.

If there were any lingering doubts that Storm wasn’t Jonny’s, that disappeared the moment I laid eyes on him.

“Storm, what are you doing home early?” Tiffany’s gentle voice carries across the room.

Storm moves his stare from me to Bob. Finally, his eyes go to his mother. “I had a free period,” he finally answers.

Jesus. He even sounds like Jonny.

I don’t know whether to cry in relief or pain.

Tiffany gives Storm the same look that Tru gives to Billy when he’s been in trouble at school, which isn’t often. He just has a little of my naughty in him.

Tiffany doesn’t question Storm on it, seemingly letting it go.

I get to my feet. Pressing my clammy hands against my jeans, I clear my throat. “Storm…I’m Jake.”

He looks at me again. His stare jolts through me. I can’t get a read on him. His eyes are closed off.

“I know who you are.”

Of course he does.

“Storm…” Bob’s voice comes from behind me, a shake to it.

I glance at Bob as he moves forward, standing beside me.

“I’m Bob. I’m your…grandfather. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

Storm says nothing. He just stands there, staring at both of us.

Then, his expression seems to shut down. He takes a step back, retreating.

Something yanks inside me. It feels a lot like fear and loss.

The feeling intensifies when he turns to leave.

“Storm.” Tiffany’s voice carries a commanding tone, causing him to stop.

He glances back over his shoulder at her.

“Where are you going?”

Her looks at us again and then away to the floor. “My room,” he says low but with hardness.

It’s a tone I heard Jonny use many times.

I hear the creak of a chair and look to see Tiffany getting to her feet.

“Bob and Jake came a long way to see you.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” His voice takes on an edge.

“Storm,” Tiffany snaps.

“No. This is bullshit. It’s all bullshit!”

“Storm! Stop this right now.”

He glares at his mother. I can feel his anger emanating from him, and I understand where it’s coming from.

I also realize this is going to be a lot harder than I anticipated.

But that doesn’t mean I’m changing my mind—not now, not when I have Jonny’s flesh and blood standing in front of me.

“You will stay here and get to know your grandfather and your father’s closest friend.”

His eyes narrow on me, and I can see something resembling blame.

Then, his stare flickers to his mother. “But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t have a father. He’s dead, remember?” He bites out each word, and then the living room door slams shut behind him as he leaves, shaking the room.

I hear another door slam quickly after, and I guess that’s his bedroom door.

“I’m so sorry.” Tiffany comes over to Bob. “He’s not normally like this. He’s such a sweet boy. He’s just…he’s been struggling since I was…since my prognosis. Then, he found out about his father…who he is—
was
…that he’s…gone.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Bob puts his hand on her arm. “What do you want us to do? Should we leave?”

Fuck no, I don’t want to leave. I want to go into that room and demand that kid to talk to me.

Tiffany’s eyes move to the door. She lets out a sigh. “Maybe that’s best for now. Let me talk to him. Then, you can come back later and have dinner with us.”

Can’t say I liked the fact that we had to leave Tiffany and Storm’s apartment. The stubbornness in me wanted to demand that we stay and talk to him.

Leaving felt like leaving Jonny. I know that’s stupid.

But losing Jonny…and then finding out a piece of him is still here…

Storm is the closest thing I’ve got to Jonny. I’m not letting that go for anything.

Jonny would have wanted me to be there for Storm, to do what he himself couldn’t, to help Storm.

But the father in me knew that demanding to stay, forcing Storm to talk to me, wouldn’t have worked.

So, I swallowed my pride and left with Bob, promising that we’d return at seven thirty to have dinner with Storm and Tiffany.

The drive back to Bob’s house is quiet.

I know Bob must be feeling as disappointed as I am about not getting any time with Storm.

But it’s not just that.

It was seeing the kid himself for the first time—how much he is like Jonny and not just in looks but also personality, the spit and fire in him. That is Jonny.

I know Storm isn’t Jonny. But in that moment…it was like Jonny was back here, standing in that living room with us.

I hear Bob exhale, pulling my eyes to him. He’s staring out the car window.

“Standing in that living room with Storm…I felt like I’d been thrown back twenty years, and Jonny was right there in front of me.” Bob’s voice is uneven.

Thinking about how hard this is for me, I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for Bob. If I’d lost JJ, Billy, or Belle…I can’t even consider it. It would destroy me. I’d never recover.

“He’s Jonny,” I softly say the words.

Bob’s eyes come to mine. He looks tired, weary. It makes me worry.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “But that’s just it, Jake. He’s not Jonny. No matter how much he looks like Jonny, sounds like him…how much we might miss Jonny and want him back, Storm isn’t him. He’s his own person…a kid who’s about to lose his mother. And he’s just found out that his father is also dead. We need to push our own feelings aside in this. We need to think about him and what’s best for him.”

“And what do you think is best for him? Because I think being with his family is what will be best for him.”