Page 59 of Love & Rockets

He dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they popped into his head. Neither of the Kennet girls would ever see his stars. Hell, he could paint entire constellations right over his head and they would never know.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Stifling a sigh, he dug for it as he turned the lid over and set it face-up on a section of newspaper. The plastic drop cloth protecting the sealed wood floors rustled as he wrestled the phone free. He didn’t bother checking the display. Brian had called three times since he’d opened the primer. Each time, his brother had offered his painting expertise, but Jake had declined. This was his work. His project. And even though Brian had been more than willing to accept Jake’s help with finishing his house, this particular project felt like something Jake needed to start and finish on his own.

Sliding his thumb over the screen, he wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear, picked up a wooden paint paddle, and began to stir. “You into fumes? You looking to come over and get high on the heavenly scent of latex acrylic?”

“Uh, no.”

A woman answered. The woman.

Darla.

The voice he heard in his dreams at night. The same voice dogged him most of his waking hours, too. With a jolt, Jake straightened. Paint dripped off the stir stick and onto the newspaper he’d put under the can, be he couldn’t be bothered. He had another more important mess to clean up.

“Darla.”

“Are you dating her?”

His first impulse was to ask who she meant, but that would be kind of a pissy thing to do, when he knew they both knew damn well who she meant. But he did it anyway, because he was feeling pretty damn pissy.

“Marlee?”

“Yes. I mean, I guess. The girl today.” She paused and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. “Her name is Marlee? Was that Marlee Tucker?”

He felt a surge of vindication at her stammering. “Yes. And she’s a little young, don’t you think? Then again, you seem to think I like much younger women, don’t you?”

“Jake, I—”

“No. I’m not dating her.”

“Can’t we just—”

There was the slightest hint of wheedle in her voice. “No,” he said again, but even more forcefully.

He was tired of settling. Tired of having the women in his life dictate all of the rules. He couldn’t control the way he felt about her. If he could, he would, but the whole notion of keeping a handle on his feelings for her flew out the window the first time they kissed. Now, she wanted to use how he felt about her to convince him to let her have her way. A flashfire of fury coursed through him.

“But—”

“I’m not interested in ‘just’, Darla.”

“We both know it’s not ‘just’, Jake,” she shot back, “but it’s complicated.”

“Doesn’t seem like it should be. Do you love me? Want to be with me as much as I want to be with you? Are we a couple? How’s Sunday looking for you and Gracie? Should I tell my mom to set another couple of places at the table?”

“Jake, please—”

He stared into the dark blue paint, his heart slowing to a dull thrum as he realized where he’d seen the color before. Contrary to what he and the paint namers thought, he wasn’t duplicating the night sky or the deep waters far off the coast. He had chosen a dark blue the exact color of Grace Kennet’s eyes. Clenching his teeth, he tore his gaze from the open can of paint and let his head fall back. Wetting his lips he asked the last of his questions.

“Who is Grace’s father?”

Silence hummed between them. Jake pulled the phone from his ear to check the connection. His heart heavy, he closed his eyes. She was still there, but she wasn’t going to answer.

“I can’t. I’ve never told anyone,” she whispered at last. “Not even Gracie.”

“Don’t you think she has a right to know?”

“Not everything is that simple,” Darla retorted, a sharp edge creeping into her voice.

The words gutted him like a fish. Flashes of memory pelted him like sleet. Don’t you think I had a right to know? Courtney’s face, grave and somber as she broke the news to him. My body, my choice. The news came too late. My child. She’d already terminated the pregnancy. Our future. The last words he spoke to the woman he’d once thought he’d marry. We have no future.

---