Crank Page 8

  We did end up at DQ, where over burgers and Blizzards, Jesse filled us in on prison life. Shit we never could’ve imagined.

  “Sorry, dude,” Micah said, clasping his shoulder briefly. “You should’ve never been there.”

  Jesse shrugged, his gaze on the bottom of his ice cream cup. “Maybe. But I’m out now.” He glanced up. “So, what’s been going on with you guys? Other than the shop, which is obviously doing pretty damn well.”

  Pride lit me up like a firecracker. There may be a whole hell of a lot wrong with my life, but the shop wasn’t one.

  “Ryder’s six now,” Trace offered, his pride mirroring mine. The guy loved his kid.

  Jesse smiled. “Really? Wow. Can’t wait to see the little guy. He into moose like his old man?”

  Trace stared at him blankly for a minute, until the old joke clicked. Jesse had started calling Trace Moose Boy in high school because he’d moved from Alaska, and he’d yet to live it down. “Shut the fuck up,” Trace said, his voice light. “Kid’s into sports. Football, baseball, basketball . . . you name it. He’s a running back in the pee wee league now.”

  “Huh.” Jesse stirred his ice cream and took another sloppy spoonful. “What about you, Micah? I heard since you left the Marines, you’ve been beating the shit outta people with some fancy Israeli martial arts.”

  Micah’s head dipped. “Yeah. Krav Maga. I first heard about it from an Israeli soldier stationed with me in Afghanistan. I tried it, liked it. Was good at it.” He glanced up. “It’s great for getting out pent up anger.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jesse said. “I’ll bet the ladies love it, too.”

  They both grinned like idiots. It suddenly occurred to me that Jesse probably hadn’t seen or touched a woman in five years or more. Had hardly seen his family, his friends. I know Trace, Micah and I had taken a couple trips up to Huntsville, but not many. I’d tried to keep him up to date in occasional letters, but it still must’ve been fucking lonely.

  “And how’s Delilah?” he asked.

  My heart lurched. “Good,” I murmured, my eyes sliding out the window next to us.

  Jesse obviously caught the sudden uncomfortable undercurrent. “What’s going on? Something wrong with Dee?”

  Micah shifted and Trace cleared his throat.

  I finally had to look back. “No. She’s good. We’re just . . . we’re going through some shit right now.” I stared into Jesse’s puzzled blue eyes. “She’s filed for divorce.”

  “What? You’re shittin’ me.”

  I bowed my head as heartache and determination twisted and swirled within me. “No. But it’s not final yet.”

  Jesse exchanged glances with our other friends. “What does that mean? You think you’ll be able to work it out?”

  “I hope so.” I sucked in a breath, thinking of all my unanswered calls. “Yeah. I’m trying my damndest. She’s not getting away without a fight.”

  “Man.” Jesse set his cup down. “That sucks. I’m sorry. You two were the couple I thought would be together forever. You always seemed so fuckin’ happy.”

  The knife in my heart twisted a 360. “Yeah, we were. But I fucked it up, and I gotta make it right.”

  Delilah

  I’m not sure why, but I stopped by my parents’ after work. It’d been a long day, and honestly, I just didn’t want to go home to Rachel’s empty apartment. She was working late, so I was on my own until at least eight o’clock.

  I opened the front door and was greeted by silence. Maybe they were out, too? But I eventually heard some rustling from my dad’s den.

  I shut the door and quietly padded down the hall. “Dad?”

  “In here.”

  I peeked into his den and found him hunched over his desk. He glanced up. “Delilah.” He looked preoccupied and not very happy to see me.

  “Hi.” I stepped in and caught a whiff of the pipe he smoked on occasion.

  “What brings you by? Your mother is out.”

  “I gathered.” I sat across from him, earning myself a frown.

  “You coming back home? I thought you’d left to go with that friend of yours.”

  I heaved a sigh. They’d known Rachel since we were kids and still, they couldn’t seem to remember her name. My parents and I would never see eye to eye, would we? “No. I mean, I did. I just stopped by . . .” Why? Why was I there? “. . . to say hi.”

  He dropped the pen in his hand. “I’m kind of busy here, Delilah.”

  The heart I thought was immune to all of this cracked a little at his callousness. But I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. He’d never really had time for me unless he needed me to smile and look pretty for some campaign contributor.

  I stood. “Sorry. I’ll go.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it. “Goodbye, Delilah. I’ll tell your mother you stopped by.”

  “You do that.” I spun away and stormed to the front door, slamming it for good measure just as tears began to crowd my eyes. God, I needed Blake. He always understood this shit with my family. He lived it himself.

  I sucked in a big breath of the cold evening air and ran to my car. I jumped in and drove away, my tears still falling, blurring my vision. I swiped them away and sped on, my mind on autopilot.

  Where to go?

  What to do?

  What the hell to feel?

  Without realizing it, I ended up at Jack ‘Em Up, my car idling in the street as I stared at the half-closed bay door. Blake’s Camaro was in the lot, so I knew he was there. I could just go inside. Part of me yearned to. I knew he’d wrap me up in his arms and make everything feel okay again.

  But it wouldn’t be okay.

  I had some healing to do. Some decisions to make. And I couldn’t do that with Blake there, crowding my brain and heart. I’d fall into him headfirst, just like I always did.

  Suddenly, the bay door closed and the lights went out. A moment later, four figures emerged from the building. I contemplated driving off before anyone saw me, but something kept me glued to my spot. I just needed a glimpse of him to calm my heart.

  As the group ambled out toward the cars in the lot, I saw him under the light. He looked like he always did when he got home from work—black streaks on his clothes, content eyes. I could almost smell the grease on his skin.

  I watched as Micah and Trace said their goodbyes and got into their cars. My eyes remained on my husband. Who was with him . . . ?

  Jesse?

  My heart jumped with happy recognition. Blake must be thrilled his friend was home. I was, too. He was a good guy who had always been sweet to me. They made their way to the Camaro, laughing over something.

  Then, in a moment that seemed suspended in time, Blake glanced up and met my eyes, the smile frozen on his face. Then, as recognition hit, it lit into a full grin. One I’d missed so badly.

  He lifted a hand to wave, indicating for me to hold on.

  My foot itched to hit the gas and speed away, but I couldn’t. He loped over to my car and I rolled down the window as he bent to eye level.

  “Hey,” he said, and just as I’d imagined, he smelled of grease and the shop and him.

  “Hi.” I glanced over his shoulder. “Jesse’s home?”

  “Yeah. Awesome, huh?”

  “Yes. It is.” I waved to Jesse and got a smile in return, but something had changed in his eyes since I saw him last. Harder now, more reserved. “Well, I—”

  “Wanna come grab some dinner with us? I know he’d love to hang out with you.”

  My stomach clenched. “No. No, thanks. You guys have a good time.”

  He rose to his full height and crossed his arms across his broad chest, my name staring back at me from his forearm. “What brings you by, Dee?”

  I bit my lip. I had no idea. I just wanted . . . comfort. “Nothing. Just in the neighborhood and I saw your car . . . I stopped . . .” I glanced up into his knowing gaze. “Habit, I guess.”

  It looked like he stifled a smile. “Well, you just come on by anyti
me.”

  I nodded and shifted into gear. “Well . . . I’ll see ya.”

  He took a step backward, his eyes still on me, now a tad wary and confused. “We’re still on for Friday, right?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. Sure. Friday.”

  “Okay.” He jogged away and met Jesse again, who asked him a question I didn’t catch.

  But I heard Blake’s answer. “I’m taking my wife on a date . . .”

  I sped away, feeling both of their eyes on me.

  I got back to the apartment just as Rachel pulled in. We parked side by side and her eyes raked me up and down as we headed toward her place.

  “You look like hell.”

  I glanced at her. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Morning sickness?” She fit the key in her lock and shot me a concerned look.

  I shrugged, following her inside. “Some. Not as bad as . . . the other time.” Or the other two times after that.

  She dropped her purse and keys on the table and slid out of her heels, sighing. “Man, I could sure use one of your Delilah special massages. These are my favorite sexy-bitch heels, but they absolutely kill my feet. I’ll survive.” She leveled me with a stare. “Anyway, back to you. When are you getting in to the doctor?”

  I sighed. “I’ve got an appointment tomorrow, Mother.”

  She studied me, her shoes dangling from her fingers. “Blake going with you?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  I shifted away. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.”

  “What?” She waited until I glanced her way again. “Didn’t you just see him last night?”

  I bit my lip and nodded, thinking back to the emotional evening and all the things we’d said. And not said. “It wasn’t right. But we’re going out Friday. I’ll tell him then.”

  She huffed and spun toward her bedroom. “You’d better. You may be on the skids, but he’s still the baby’s father.”

  Yes. I knew that. Didn’t she think I knew that? My heart felt like it was frozen solid with a fault line crack. Suddenly feeling like a robot, I padded to the guest bedroom and found my pajamas then locked myself in the bathroom. I took a long, hot shower until steam filled the room, washing my hair and body as clean as I could. As suds rolled down my body, I glanced down at my stomach.

  There was a baby in there.

  Slowly, with trembling fingers, I cupped my belly. I couldn’t feel anything yet, but somehow, just knowing our child lay inside made my heart swell and break at the same time.

  I rinsed off and slathered myself with cherry blossom lotion before heading to the kitchen. I found Rachel peeking in the oven, her back to me.

  She slid a glance over her shoulder. “I hope frozen pizza’s okay. I didn’t feel up to cooking tonight.”

  I nodded and leaned against the counter. “Sounds good.”

  She rose and handed me a wine glass filled with bubbly liquid. She saw my look and lifted a hand. “Sparkling grape juice.” She lifted a second glass and held it toward me, as if to toast. We clinked glasses. “Congratulations, Dee.”

  I bowed my head, taking a tiny sip. Grapey bubbles slid down my throat and I tried to pretend I wasn’t getting teary-eyed.

  Rachel propped her butt next to me on the counter and bumped me with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  I faced her as a tear slid loose. “Nothing.”

  She tilted her head. “Right.”

  I shrugged and sipped again.

  “Come on. Tell your bestie. What gives?”

  I wanted to crawl into her lap and cry like I could never do with my mom. I sniffled and let it rip. “I miss him, Rachel.”

  “Ah, honey. Come here.” She collected me into her arms, giving me a whiff of her expensive perfume.

  I set my glass on the counter and squeezed her back. “I love him and I miss him and . . . I’m stupid.”

  She puffed out a little laugh. “Stupid how?”

  I drew back and dabbed my eyes with the sleeve of my pajamas. “Because. I want to go home, but I don’t. I can’t. And I feel so twisted up inside. I didn’t expect divorce to feel good, but why does it feel so wrong?”

  Silence greeted me until I peeked over at her face. Her brows were puckered in empathy. “Maybe because it is wrong.”

  “Rach—”

  “I know, I know. You haven’t been able to work things out, he’s never home, yada, yada. But, Dee, you’re having a baby. Surely that changes things.”

  I thought back to the three children we’d lost at different stages of pregnancy. They hadn’t changed a thing. If anything, Blake just worked harder and was home even less. I understood, even kind of loved him more for his single-minded determination to provide, but I couldn’t live my life like that anymore.

  I sucked in a breath and pushed away from the counter. “It probably should change things, but it won’t. It never did before . . .”

  Rachel’s face clouded in confusion. “What do you mean? That baby you lost was years ago. Your circumstances are different now.”

  Realizing she was catching on to something, I spun away and checked the pizza.

  “Delilah?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut then turned to face her.

  “What did you mean?”

  A sob rose in my throat, nearly choking me. I thought I’d grieved those other babies, but maybe not. “We lost more than that one baby.”

  “What?” Her face paled.

  Unconsciously, I cupped my belly. “There were three.”

  “What . . . Why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep something like that from your best friend?”

  I heard the hurt in her voice and met her eyes. “We didn’t tell anyone, Rach. It was just too painful after that first miscarriage. We waited to say anything until we knew it was safe.” I glanced away, down to her patterned linoleum. “It just was never safe and . . . we couldn’t . . . I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, Dee.” She collected me into another hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  I sobbed in her arms as she let me talk it out in weepy bits and pieces, until our pizza nearly burned. She offered me a sad smile as she pulled away to salvage our dinner.

  We sat with our toasty pizza slices and refilled glasses and she reached over to grip my hand. “I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  “And as much as I want to be here for you, and I am, you really, really need your husband, Delilah.”

  I lifted my pizza and studied it before biting. “Maybe.”

  We left it at that.

  Blake

  Thursday should’ve been a great day. The shop was booming with business, another prospective buyer for the Spyder came by, Trey was working out good, and tomorrow was . . . well, Friday. TGIF had never meant so much as when I knew I could be with Delilah again.

  I’d woken up practically drunk on a dream of her. I could still taste her on my tongue, feel her silky skin under my fingers. I’d buried my face in her pillow, desperate for just a tiny bit of her.

  Would I ever get over her?

  Would I have to?

  “Hey, man.”

  I spun around and faced Jesse. Clean shaven and in brand new jeans and button-down, lollipop tucked into his cheek and slush in hand, it was suddenly obvious how much he’d lost being in prison these past years. He had no job, no money, no things of his own. Not even clothes anymore. I wiped my hands on a rag. “That shit’ll give you cavities.”

  He grinned around the red lollipop and shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to eat crap just for the sake of eating crap.”

  I laughed, knowing how my buddy had always loved the sugary shit. “So, what’s up?”

  He sucked his pop and pulled it from his mouth as he eyed the engine of the Ford I was working on. “Just thought I’d drop by. See if you wanted to go to lunch?”

  I smiled. “Over the family time for a while?”

  A half-laugh broke free. “Y
eah. I mean, they’re great and I love being with them . . . but the women are suffocating me, man.”

  I could only imagine. “Lunch would be good.”

  I moved to the sink to wash up, wishing that it could be like old times now that Jesse was back, but knowing that could never happen. Too much had changed. For both of us.

  “You adopted a cat?” he asked from behind me.

  I turned, drying my hands with a wad of paper towels and found Jesse crouched down, petting the little stray that had started sneaking in when we had the bay doors opened. I’d tried to shoo him away, but it didn’t help that Trace and Micah kept feeding him scraps. I’d even come to kinda like the little guy. He was no Chevy, but he seemed to be a sweet cat.

  “More like the cat adopted us.”

  Jesse rose with a smile and we naturally made our way over to the Spyder, talking some about the other cars in for repairs and the work I’d been doing on the Porsche. He crunched his candy and pointed with the empty stick. “Got a 1.5 liter original engine in that bad boy?” He tossed the stick in the trash then slurped the last of his slush and sent the cup whizzing to the can, too.

  “Of course. Anything more would be too much.”

  He nodded, his eyes still pinned to the car. A thought suddenly occurred to me. “You have any leads on a job, bro?”

  He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets, focusing on me again. “Nah.”

  I pulled my keys out and headed toward the door, shouting for Trey to let Trace and Micah know I’d be back. “Why don’t you come work here?”

  His shocked blue gaze snapped to mine. “What?”

  I laughed. “Dude. Don’t act so surprised. We need help, we’re drowning. Not that I’m complaining. And you’re an ace mechanic. Especially with the bikes.” I grinned at him as I opened my car door. “Well, you used to be, if you didn’t lose all your skills in the joint.”

  He froze with his hand on the passenger door. “I think I can still turn a wrench.”

  “Great. It’s settled. Can you start Monday?”

  He was shaking his head as we both slipped in the Camaro. “You’re sure?” He faced me with serious eyes.

  The roar of the engine filled the air. “Yes, I’m sure. You’re my best friend, Jesse. Plus, I can start taking on motorcycles if you’re here. All the place is missing is you.”