Obviously, judging by their earlier conversation, Jackson still had feelings for his ex-wife. Meaning? Simply that when Ella finally felt comfortable enough in her own skin to rejoin the dating scene, Jackson would be a lousy first candidate.
“Thanks,” he said.
“For what?” Her mouth had become the Sahara.
“Listening. Being here. For always having been such a good friend to Dillon, and now me.”
She shrugged, not trusting herself to meet his gaze. “No biggie.”
“Yeah, well, it is to us.” Landing a playful slug to her right shoulder, he added, “You’re a good gal.”
A good gal? Nice. Way to make me feel like a desirable woman. Not that that’s what she expected him to think of her, just that he certainly had a knack for making her feel decidedly undesirable.
Hand clamped to her forehead, she said, “I’m, ah, really tired. How about we track down our respective kids and call it a night?”
“We good?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?” She gave him a bright smile.
“Hey…” Hand warmly clamped to her shoulder he said, “Even I know that’s not your real smile.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because at the exact moment we found out the boys were safe, I was privy to the real deal.” Flashing a heart-tugging grin all his own, he winked. “I like that one much better.” After squeezing her shoulder, he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets, then whistled his way to the back door. “Once I find our crew, I’ll send yours home.”
“THAT WAS NICE,” Julie said while Dillon, still hyped up on the thirty-eight cookies he’d apparently downed at Whitney’s house, jumped in front of the stuck screen door.
“You should fix that, Dad,” his kid said, still jumping and not even breaking a sweat.
“I’ll get right on it,” Jackson said, giving the stupid thing a hard enough yank to pop off the bottom hinge, too.
“Honey,” Julie complained, while he hefted the screen door out of the way, leaning it against the side of the house.
“Look what you did. If you’d just let me do it, it wouldn’t have broken. All you had to do was lift and jiggle.”
Jackson took a deep breath and counted to ten.
She brushed him aside, then slid her key into the main door’s lock. It irked him to no end that she even had a key.
Dillon shot by. “I’m gonna go play with my Xbox, ’kay?”
“What you’re going to do,” Julie shouted after him as he dashed up the stairs, “is get in the tub, then head straight to bed. Tomorrow’s a school day.”
“Aw, man…”
“Do it,” Julie said, presumably in the same scary, I-mean-business tone she used on her new hardened-felon friends.
Jackson tossed his keys on the entry-hall side table, releasing a sigh. “Jules…You can’t just waltz in here—”
“You called me Jules,” she said, nestling her designer purse alongside his keys before sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his chest. “It’s been a long time since you’ve called me that.”
“Don’t read anything into it. It’s been an endless day, and I’m tired.”
“I know what would make you feel better…” Easing her hands under his shirt’s hem, she palmed his abs. There had been a time when her lightest touch instantly had him hard. Now? It didn’t faze him. “Mmm…I see you’ve been working out.”
“Okay,” he said, royally ticked she’d pull this kind of stunt. Lightly grasping her wrists, he pushed her away. “I’ve officially had all I can stomach of whatever twisted game you’re playing. First, you waltz in here, acting like you’re our kid’s mom when—”
“I am, and always will be, his mother.”
“You gave him up, remember?” Along with me.
“Stop. You’re not being fair.”
“Fair? Julie, you freakin’ walked out on us both. It’s been three weeks since you’ve even called Dillon to say hi, yet now you actually care whether or not he has a bath? Give me a break.”
“No, you give me a break. Just because I—”
“Mom? Dad?” Jackson had been so engrossed with telling off his ex, he hadn’t noticed his son sneaking up alongside them. Make no mistake—Dillon was his son. “I thought you weren’t going to fight anymore.”
Running his hands through his hair, not having a clue what to say to his little boy, Jackson headed for the kitchen.
“That’s real mature!” Julie shouted after him. “Just walk away when our son is crying out for help!”
Oh—now she wanted to play the maturity game? With everything in him, Jackson wanted to tell this woman—this destroyer of their lives—just what he truly thought of her. But then he caught sight of Dillon. The way his lower lip trembled. Heart aching, Jackson went to his kid, easily lifting him into his arms.
“I love you,” he said quietly in Dillon’s ear. “Everything’s going to be all right. Promise.”
Dillon squirmed and bucked against him. “Put me down. I want Mommy.”
Jackson did put Dillon down, silently watching while Dillon ran to Julie for a hug. But whereas he’d have fully expected Julie’s expression to be triumphant, the gaze she shot over their son’s shoulder was remorseful and threatening tears.
Tears? Was such a thing even possible from the woman he’d secretly dubbed the Ice Queen?
“Hey, bud,” Jackson said, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse. “You need to get on with that bath.”
“I will, Dad, but first, you have to promise not to fight anymore with Mommy.”
Jaw tight, Jackson nodded.
“And, Mommy,” Dillon said, eyes wide and shining, “you have to come be with us more, okay?”
“I will, angel.” She kissed the crown of his head.
Once again, Dillon was off. This time, accompanied by the groan of the upstairs bathroom pipes when the tub water was turned on.
“I’m sorry,” Julie said, sitting on the staircase’s third step.
“No apology necessary. Let’s just leave the past in the past.”
“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “When you told me Dillon was missing…I swear to God, my life flashed before my eyes. I mean, I know this will sound clichéd, but in that instant, everything faded except what’s important—real. Dillon. You.”
Tilting his head back in what he assumed would be a futile attempt to work the kinks from his aching neck, Jackson ignored the last part of Julie’s speech. How many times when the ink had still been wet on their divorce papers had he prayed to hear those very words? But that had been a long time ago. He wasn’t the same man. She’d emotionally destroyed him, and it would take a lot more than pretty words to put him back together.
“Well?” She gazed up at him with the same big brown eyes as their son. In the entry hall’s dim overhead light, she’d never looked more beautiful, or, at the same time, more treacherous. Like quicksand, exploration would be foolish. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Haven’t you missed me?”
“Sure, but—”
“When I saw you tonight with Rose in your arms,