Page 118 of Defenders of Jawhara

Instead, she went hunting for a movie. She found an on-demand showing ofTheLord of the Ringsand went for it. Too bad if Slade wasn’t geeky enough to enjoy Tolkien—she was a hard-core fan and she had the extended edition back home. Maybe it was time to get her things sent over here and close up her apartment for good, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

She’d loved her independence. She’d loved taking Jason down to Portland with her almost every summer—Tayra had been fine with Bethany taking him for months at a time. She’d also been fine with Bethany visiting, and Bethany’s freelance work had given her the flexibility to do as she liked. But now…now she wasn’t certain. The future seemed to be hanging—would Jason’s father want him? Would she be able to adopt him? Would the courts step in? She shut down the questions and lost herself in the movie.

At some point, Slade got up. She heard the sounds of popcorn popping, smelled the lush butter and salt aroma. Slade came back with two more beers and the popcorn. They sat through the first movie, she glanced at him, and he waved his beer bottle. “Go for it. I can’t remember the last movie night I had.”

Another round of beers got them through the second movie. Bethany yawned through the ending credits and shut off the TV before she got started onThe Return of the King, which was coming up next. She glanced over at Slade. He’d fallen asleep with one hand on her thigh and the other stretched out behind her.

For an instant, she was tempted to simply snuggle up in his arms. It’d be so easy to lean over, put her head on his shoulder, breathe in his scent, and sleep. Or do even more.

Easing out from under his hand, she padded into her room. She came back with a throw that she draped over him. The couch was a sinful luxury—he’d sleep well enough. At the last minute, she couldn’t resist. She touched a hand to one lock of hair that hung over his forehead. She tucked it back and put a light kiss on that spot.

Heading to her room, she undressed and slipped into bed.

She dreamed of knights and dragons—but Slade featured as Strider, as Aragorn, the king returned to claim his heritage. She woke with a start, the dreams clinging to her. Brushing at her curly hair, she knew she didn’t fit in the role of the ethereal elf princess—she was not much of a match for any king. She shook her head, padding into the bathroom to pee and shower.

When she got out, she could hear Slade and Jason in the living room. The warm aroma of coffee was tempting, but she needed clothes. She dressed in a loose cotton peasant blouse and shorts—the day was already warm. Heading into the living room, she stopped in the hall doorway.

Jason sat cross-legged on the couch, and Slade sat next to him, both were leaning forward slightly, both of their expressions were intent, and both were utterly focused. She could hear the noise of a crowd from the TV. A bat cracked on a ball—ah, another game. The crowd let out a shout. So did Slade…and Jason. The two guys swapped a high five and matching grins—and the resemblance hit her like a train.

Air rushed from her chest. She turned, headed back to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her pale face.

It couldn’t be—but she’d just seen it. Hadn’t she?

But…no. Tayra, and…no, just no.

Shaking inside, she headed for the main room. She glanced at Slade, caught his eye, and asked, “Can we have a word?” She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a coffee, and stood there holding it black, unable to move.

Slade walked in. He glanced at her, stopped where he was, and asked, “What’s up?”

She pulled in a breath and let it out. Putting down her coffee mug, she asked, “When were you going to tell me that Jason’s your son?”

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Slade lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t know that he is.”

“Is that why you wanted a DNA test? To be sure?” She groaned, turned to the counter, and put both hands on it. “That’s why Tayra didn’t want Brock to know—why she couldn’t tell him he had a son. He didn’t.Youdid.” She turned and faced him, her cheeks stung red. “Is that why she walked out on Brock—she was having an affair with you?”

Slade’s head jerked up. The air went out of him as if she’d punched him. “I wasn’t. I didn’t. Tayra never cheated—not that I know of.” He shook his head. “Don’t go there with your sister when she can no longer speak for herself.”

“Then how…” She let the words trail off. She waved a hand toward the living room, where Jason was still watching the game. Dropping her voice to a low hiss, she asked, “How do you explain that Jason looks nothing like Brock and just like you?” She put her hands over her face. “God, I should have seen it sooner. The way you both hold yourselves, the same expressions, the same ear shape and face, and…that’s why you came. To claim your son?”

He stepped over to her, pulled her hands down, and kept hold of her wrists. “We do need to talk. But you need to eat first. Go sit down.” She started to shake her head, but Slade lifted her hands and pulled her with him to the table. “Sit. You like your eggs scrambled or over easy?”

“I get a choice?”

“We always get choices.” Heading back to the kitchen, he put cream and sugar into her coffee and brought it to her. She stared at the mug. Slade wanted to put a hand on her, to tell her it would be okay, but he had no idea if it would be. She’d shaken him with her blunt statement. He’d suspected, but she’d made it all too real—before he was ready for it. He could admit that now.

Looking toward Jason, he saw what she’d pointed out. Probably already had, but his brain wasn’t prepared to make that leap. Until now. The timing fit. He also hadn’t contacted Brock yet, which he needed to rectify and bring him up to speed. He was sure Travis probably told him about Tayra having died, but he needed to know about the boy as well.

He needed to do something with his hands. Heading back into the kitchen, he got busy with the eggs. He’d bought bacon yesterday, too, so he fired up some strips. The smell pulled Jason in from the TV, so Slade fried up more bacon, more eggs, and put toast in to brown.

Once they’d eaten—or rather, Jason had eaten; Bethany had picked at her food, and Slade had shoved down mouthfuls without tasting anything because he knew his body needed fuel—Slade told Jason, “Hey, buddy, why don’t you go outside to play? I think someone set up a basketball hoop over the garage.”

Jason’s eyes lit up and he bolted for the door, his short leg barely noticeable from the speed he was using.

Slade turned to Bethany. “Okay, here’s the deal, and I’m saying this once, and just once. Then it’s over. I’m not talking about it again. I’m not answering questions. Got it?”

Her lips parted and Slade could see the questions in her eyes, but she pressed her mouth closed tightly and nodded.

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