Page 26 of Free to Believe
Maybe I wouldn’t be laughing so hard if I knew what was in store for me later that evening.
15
Jake
I’m in the middle of playing the guitar along with a song Brendan wrote for his latest album when I get an incoming text. Opening it up, I see it’s a forward from Jenna to Dani. It’s a picture of a rusted-out, piece-of-shit bike of Jenna’s that Dani is constantly reminding me to get rid of. Next to it is a picture of a bleeding leg being bandaged by a woman with blonde curls.I can see you’re really helping to welcome my guest if this is how you helped her get into town for supplies, followed by a bunch of orange-faced swearing emojis. I don’t have to guess how pissed Dani is. I’ll deal with that later.
I’m insanely curious how Emily and Jenna managed to hook up. I also have to admit to wondering how Emily got along with my cantankerous teenager.
I don’t have to wait long to find out.
My phone rings. Jenna, for all she’s pissed at me, knows the rules: call before leaving work. “Hey, Dad. You’ll never believe who I ran into at work.”
My voice is dry when I reply, “Bet I can.”
“Dani got to you already, huh? Well, good. You should be ashamed for not asking Em if she needed anything.” I pull the phone away, wondering if I’m talking to an alien. I’m being schooled on manners from my sixteen-year-old daughter, who would sooner turn up the volume on her Bluetooth speakers than have a meaningful conversation. “Anyway, Em and I are on our way home.”
Em? The Ice Queen and my daughter bonded so quickly Jenna feels comfortable enough to shorten her name? This bears some thought, but right now my concern is first and always my daughter’s safety.
“Jenna,” I say firmly as I lay my guitar aside. “You know the rules. No double riders on the Vespa.”
“Dad, she’s hurt. I’m not making her wait for you to get here when I can be home in ten minutes. Besides, she has to let Mugsy out soon,” Jenna argues.
I grit my teeth. I can see the manipulation in this all the way from Cape Cod. Jenna’s trying to prove to me she can ride double, and she’s using Emily to do it. The problem is, she’s not wrong. If Emily is hurt, this is the quickest way to get her home. “This is not the end of this discussion, Jenna. Get you and Emily home safely. If you’re here in less than fifteen minutes because you’re speeding, you’ll lose the scooter. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Oh, and I invited Em to dinner.” She disconnects before I can voice any protest.
Great. Just fucking great. Knowing I can get one more song out, I put down my acoustic guitar and plug in the electric Les Paul. The notes to “Dream On” start rippling from my fingers. Soon, I’m lost back in a time where there weren’t any responsibilities. Arguments happened over set lists. There was nothing but the music and losing myself in the power of my fingers moving up and down the fret board.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later,I’m in the kitchen stirring the sauce for the pasta I had defrosted earlier when I hear the front door open. Normally, Jenna just escapes to her room after calling out a greeting, but today, I hear two voices headed in my direction. When I hear Jenna yell, “Dad, a little help?” I drop the spoon, splattering sauce everywhere, and go rushing into the foyer.
Jenna is helping a limping Emily while trying to carry a few bags from Stop and Shop. “Stop, Jenna. It’s not that bad,” Emily protests. Her navy blue eyes narrow as she catches sight of me. “See? I can walk on my own.” Lifting her chin as she removes her arm from around my daughter’s shoulders, she manages a step or two before she stumbles. “Crap,” she mutters.
I rush forward and catch her before she falls. My arms grip her small waist. Her curls brush against my chin. The smell of mint and something else tantalizes me as I catch her weight against me. Against my will, my body responds like it hasn’t in too long.
Far too long if this standoffish woman is doing it for me.
Her arms clutch my forearms in a death grip. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” Unlike her body, which is so wobbly it was about to face-plant in the foyer, her voice comes out cold as an iceberg. Hell, even if she tried, I bet her voice wouldn’t rise above this modulated tone. It’s damn annoying.
Rather like the woman herself.
“Dad!” Jenna exclaims. “Em’s bleeding again. Do you think we can avoid staining the floors and get her some bandages?” She drops the bags she’s holding onto the floor.
Holding Emily away from my body, I run my gaze downward. While the wound on her leg isn’t gushing, it’s bled through the bandage that’s wrapped around it. Ouch. That must have hurt like hell. Without thinking, I sweep her up in my arms and stride toward the kitchen with Jenna hard on my heels. “Please put me down. I can handle this on my own,” Emily says stiffly.
“Just be quiet. We keep the medical supplies in there.”
“Isn’t there a first aid kit in my apartment?” she says haughtily. I’m equally affronted and amused by the fact she’d rather be anywhere than in my arms or my home.Lady, the feeling is entirely mutual.
Since the table is already set for dinner, I plop Emily on top of the counter. “Stay,” I order her.
“I’m not a dog.” She shifts and a ripple of pain crosses her face, but just as quickly it’s gone and a mask of blankness drops down. I almost admire her for the way she’s able to hide her emotions. Holding Emily’s gaze, I ask, “Jenna, do any of Emily’s groceries have to be refrigerated?”
“Yeah, Dad. Practically all of them.”
“Why don’t you give Jenna your keys and she can bring everything up for you? Maybe let your dog out?” I suggest. A war happens in those blue eyes. Finally, she nods.
