Chapter Two

Jonah

September was flexing her muscles. The air was so hot that with one breath Jonah felt his lungs ignite into flames. And the high altitude wasn’t helping. He’d grown up in the Mile High City, but he’d never acclimated to the dry heat of summer.

Jonah pulled into the drive and took in the gray-and-white 1912 Tudor he and his late wife spent six years renovating into their dream home. With the steeply pitched roof, narrow leaded-glass windows, and large brick front patio, it was the gem of the neighborhood. Or it had been. Gone were the sprawling gardens and manicured trees. Left to their own devices, the grass had taken over the flowerbeds and the trees now encroached on the easement. It was just another aftereffect of what happened when one’s wife was three months pregnant and diagnosed with cancer.

Encroachment.

Jonah’s therapist would say that the condition of his house was a metaphor for the anger and disillusionment he’d adopted as his natural state of being. He didn’t used to be the cynical prick who purposefully went out of his way to piss off the neighborhood, but he wanted them to feel even an ounce of what his life had become. A complete shit show.

For example, after dropping Waverly at preschool—where he sweet-talked some of the moms into siding with him at the Beautification Board meeting—and making some headway on chores, he’d spent the day sending out resumes and calling every contact he had in his past life praying for a job. Or at least the chance to get his foot in the door and prove he was the man for the job.

Evie may have thrown fire on this next-door-war by calling tonight’s Beautification Board meeting, but it didn’t mean Jonah wasn’t going in with some serious ammo in his back pocket.

He was just finishing up his community campaign when the high school called, requesting his appearance. Which was how he’d spent the past hour with his stepson’s principal, football coach, and Spanish teacher discussing the finer points of Ryan’s shit-tacular progress report—which was the first Jonah was hearing of it.

Ryan was a straight-A student, always had been. Until his mom passed. Then everything changed. He’d become moody, distant, secretive, and unmotivated.

Four things Jonah could relate to.

One look at his wife and his entire world had changed. Jonah had changed. Being loved by a woman like Amber had that kind of effect. Every day he was embracing the fact that she was gone, but how did he move past his wife’s death without leaving her memories behind? Especially when there had been so much discord right up until the end. Discord that could have been avoided if he’d supported her decision to forgo treatment and spend her last few months around her kids and not hooked up to an IV.

Slowly he was coming to terms with the loss. He only hoped he could change fast enough to be the kind of dad his kids deserved.

Brushing the sweat from his forehead, which had nothing to do with the spiking temperatures, Jonah grabbed the takeout from the front seat and walked up the brick pathway to the front porch. He opened the front door and let out a sigh that came from the depths of his soul. Ryan’s school things were strewn in the entry, his cleats haphazardly lying in the center of the floor—at least he’d bothered to take them off this time.

“Ryan?” he called out.

A grunt of acknowledgment came from the family room.

“I got takeout.” Jonah had to look for a clean space of countertop just to set the bag down. Jesus, it looked like an episode of Master Chef had exploded in his kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked on the counter right above the dishwasher, frozen pizza wrappers were lying around like carcasses, and dirty mixing bowls were filling the sink.

“There’s this thing called a dishwasher. It actually does all the work for you,” Jonah called out.

“It’s full.”

“Then run it.”

Jonah inhaled for eight, held it for four, and then exhaled. A trick his grief counselor had taught him and the only reason he hadn’t killed his stepson. Then he walked in and saw a first-person shooter game on the television and all that breathing ramped back up. Ryan was sunken back into the couch, barely visible, his socked feet up on the coffee table, and snuggled upnext to him was his baby sister, Waverly.

The room smelled like a post-football practice that took place on the surface of the sun and stale Fritos. There were more wrappers and plates on the coffee table and dirty football pads hanging off the armchair.

Jonah picked up the remote and turned off the television.

“Dude, I was streaming that,” Ryan said.

“And your baby sister is watching you blow off the heads of people.”

“She’s watching Paw Patrol.” Ryan pointed to the tablet in Waverly’s sticky little hands. She was in a cute green dress that matched her eyes, white bows that were about to stage a coup with her hair, and bare feet, with a red frosting stain above her lip.

“What happened to no sugar after lunch?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, since it’s Mom’s birthday and all.”

Which explained the dirty cake pan and red food coloring on the slate countertop.

Jonah dropped his head and pressed his palms to his eye sockets. He’d been so focused on this meeting with the principal and the Beautification Board meeting tonight that he’d completely spaced.

“I’m sorry, bud. I forgot.”

“No big deal. Wave and I had our own little party.”

“Maybe we can do something this weekend.”

“Maybe.” Ryan shrugged, but the weight shoving his son’s shoulders down caused Jonah’s heart to contract like it was being strangled by the strength of a thousand gods.

“Your mom would have loved that,” he said, then looked at his daughter, who wouldn’t remember her mom’s face or voice or life-changing hugs. “How long did she nap?”

“She didn’t. I tried. She wasn’t into it,” Ryan said, and Jonah didn’t bother with a lecture. Waverly got her mom’s red hair, her big green eyes, and her tenacity. When she set her mind to something, no one could dissuade her.

On the other hand, Ryan was quiet, thoughtful, and emotionally mature. That was until Amber died. Now he was just sullen and angry, testing every boundary Jonah set. It didn’t help that his birth-dad was out of the picture. Jonah had adopted Ryan when he was ten, but that kid was his through and through. He loved his son so much it hurt to see him struggle with the immense amount of grief his mom’s sickness and death caused.

“I tried to put her down twice and both times she crawled out of her crib and right over the baby gate. I laid down with her for about an hour but she just cried. So here we are.”

Jonah knew that pain. It had been the routine for the past few weeks—ever since he’d enrolled her in preschool. He’d tried every parenting tip he could find online and none had worked. He was at a complete loss. And exhausted. And ready to hire a professional parenting coach.

“Uppie.”

Jonah lifted Waverly and she locked her little arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her tightly and breathed her in. She smelled of baby powder, vanilla frosting, and heartbreaking memories.

“Hey, bug,” he whispered.

Her answer was a little puff of exhausted breath against his skin. He could feel the weariness seeping through her body and guilt came on swiftly. A little yawn tickled his neck.

Shit, if she slept now, she’d never go down tonight.

He held her for a long moment, but when he went to set her down she clung to his neck and started to cry. He knew he should be strong, do some of that tough love he’d read about, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t seen her since this morning and last night’s bedtime was a complete clusterfuck with tears and hysterics, where he sat outside the door listening to her howls and nearly cried himself.

She might not remember her mom, but she seemed to crave her touch all the same. He pulled her back into him. “Daddy’s got you.”

This was why he was here at four in the afternoon, instead of making million-dollar trades in a million-dollar office downtown. To be with his kids.

His coworkers thought he’d lost it when he’d quit months before making partner, and maybe he had. But when Amber passed he knew his kids needed him here more than his ego needed him in a thousand-dollar suit playing big man on campus.

A memory of Ryan holding his mom’s hand as she took her last breath gripped him by surprise. A war of emotions had been battling inside him that day: sadness, helplessness, and a lot of anger. At the world, at the doctors, but a small portion was also aimed at Amber herself. She’d died while he’d been angry at her. And that was something he didn’t think he could ever get over. Just like he knew Ryan was having a hard time getting over the loss. Which was why Jonah had given him a wide berth and the space he needed to come to terms with losing yet another parent.

But he’d clearly given him too much leeway.

From the moment Jonah met Amber, standing in line at the grocery store, he’d had one goal. Marry her. Have a family. Work hard to give them the life they deserved. That she came with a son only sweetened the pot. Then they found out she was pregnant with Waverly and he thought life was perfect. Until the diagnosis and the fear of losing the best thing in his life set in. Then came the helplessness and finally the arguments over how they should proceed.

She was asked to be part of a groundbreaking trial that could have prolonged her life for up to five years. But it was brutal on the body. Six-hour treatments three days a week. Never-ending tests. In hindsight, he understood her decision, but at the time all he felt was that she was yet another person to leave him behind when she had a shot at staying.

He knew Ryan carried the same questions and insecurities about why his mom wouldn’t want to fight for him. But Jonah was fighting to keep his family above water, only he was afraid he was doing a crap job at it.

“You want to talk about your grades?” he said, sitting gently next to Ryan on the couch so as not to jostle Waverly, who was now fast asleep on his shoulder.

“What’s the point? Since it seems like you already know.”

“I met with your principal, and she is threatening that if you don’t pull up your grades they’ll put you on academic probation.”

Ryan shrugged as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“That happens and you’re benched until they come up.”

That got his attention.

“They can’t do that. I’m their starting running back. Scouts from CU Boulder are supposed to be there in two weeks.”

“They can and they will if you don’t pass your upcoming tests. Coach and I got them to give you two weeks to pull them up to passing. But I expect them to be stellar. You’re also a scholarship student. So no football, no scholarship. Do you have any idea how much Saint Ignatius costs?”

Not that Jonah didn’t have the money. He’d invested his wife’s life insurance policy wisely, nearly doubling its value over the past year. But that was meant for college and weddings and retirement.

“Have you considered asking Camila for help?” he said, referring to Evie’s teenage daughter.

“She’s too busy with Monty. Or is it Arlo this week?”

Jonah had to bite back a smile. Ryan and Camila were best friends, had been since they were in diapers, but ever since Camila grew curves Ryan had been more brooding than normal. That she was dating his older teammates only added to the kid’s frustration.

And her mom wasn’t dating at all—at least, she wasn’t open to dating him. Which was probably for the best. Jonah needed to extinguish the dumpster fire that had become his life. And admiring Evie’s ladyscaping skills would only further complicate things.

“Well, you might want to get on her dance card and soon, because you’re going to need help if you want to clean up this mess.”

Jonah wondered if that was part of his problem. That he needed outside help to gain a new perspective on his life. He felt like he was running a race with no sense of where the finish line was.