He didn’t have an answer for that—he couldn’t disagree with her, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to put his mind and heart around what he was really feeling. The part of his brain that actually thought about stuff like this was so rusty as to almost be unusable—but he knew, instinctively, that something was not quite right. Yet without being able to say what, he finally shook his head and laughed. “Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said, and meant it. At least, he was pretty sure he meant it. He leaned over, kissed Robin good night, kissed her until he had to let go, and reluctantly watched her walk up the drive. And he wondered, as she stepped inside her house, if he hadn’t been caught up in a cosmic storm or something, because at that moment, he was feeling extremely crazy to be dancing around the maypole with her, being pulled in a direction he wasn’t sure he wanted to go.
He drifted off to sleep that night thinking of being with Robin, and was having a very pleasant dream along those lines when the phone began to ring, rattling him. He came up on his elbow and blinked, realized it wasn’t the phone but the front door, and glanced at the clock. Two A.M. Unbelievable. Zaney was the first person to pop in his mind, but as he shoved the bedcovers aside and got up, he realized even Zaney wasn’t stupid enough to come knocking at two in the morning.
Wearing only his boxers, Jake stalked to the door and threw it open. The flashing red and blue of a police cruiser on the street blinded him; he blinked, held up one hand against the glare, and focused on the cop standing there.
“This your kid?” he asked and pushed Cole forward. Unfortunately, yes, and Jake feared he might literally go right through the screen door in his haste to get his hands on his kid.
Chapter Nineteen
The knock on Jake’s door in the middle of the night did not bode well for the next day, which began with a major argument with Mom when Jake insisted it was time Cole came to live with him. You don’t want that, Jacob. It’s your guilt talking, nothing more, and that ain’t no way to do Cole. When he had demanded to know what in the hell that was supposed to mean, she had hemmed and hawed, but had finally said what some vague part of him already knew. You feel guilty for having left us behind and not being here for your brothers.
He swore he didn’t feel guilty. He accused his mom of wanting to be miserable and of wanting to keep everyone around her miserable. Both fuming, they had ended the conversation. Only Jake’s fuming turned to fury when he took Cole to school and discovered he had been suspended two days for cutting class.
So he showed up at work in a very foul mood with one surly teenager (who was in danger of getting popped if he mouthed off to any of the guys the way he mouthed off to Jake). When he talked, that was. Which was never, at least not to Jake.
They spilled out of opposite sides of the truck, slamming their doors in almost perfect unison. “I’m going to put you to work, son,” Jake said as they stalked toward the house.
“I’m not your son,” Cole shot back, slinking along behind Jake. “I don’t even want to be around you!”
“Tough shit,” Jake said through gritted teeth.
Zaney was in the kitchen as the two burst through the door, and said brightly, “Hey, it’s the Colester!” To which Cole snorted his obvious disdain. “Hey, little dude, who pissed in your Post Toasties?” Zaney demanded.
“Don’t ask,” Jake said, and motioned Cole forward. They proceeded through the dining room to the entry, where various tools and drop cloths were scattered. Jake pointed to the mess. “You’re going to clean this up.”
Cole looked at the mess of tools, sawdust, and drop cloths and moaned, “All of that?”
“All of that. And when you are finished, come upstairs, because I have more.” And then he left the grumbling kid and ascended the curving staircase. When he reached the first landing, he glanced out the portal window and saw Robin in her running clothes, standing, hands on hips, on the greenbelt that ran down the middle of North Boulevard, waiting for traffic to pass. Gazing at her, he felt his anger with Cole growing.
The problem was, he had feelings for Robin that went far beyond the usual lusting, and deep into that dark, musty tunnel of really caring about someone. Like he’d never cared in his life. He cared what she thought, how she felt, who she was. He cared what she thought of him. Cared so much that he was angry with Cole, mortified that she might see how inept he and his mom were at raising him. And panicky that Cole’s troubles might make her shy away. He had enough strikes against him. He didn’t need any more.
When Robin caught a break in the traffic and jogged across the street, he stalked up the stairs, forcing himself to more urgent matters. The demolition was in full swing; Jake made sure the crews were not taking the job too far. Then he went downstairs to check on Cole and say hello to Robin.
Cole had picked up the drop cloths and folded them, and was out front, hosing down the buckets. Jake opened the door, stuck his head out. “How’s it going?”