Sweat Equity (12 page)

"But," Sara let a familiar anger at her mother's natural tendency to take over, to tell her things she didn't want to hear, surge through her.

"No buts. Get back together with Jack, or don't. But do not lay this at your father's feet. That's a cop out. You are too smart and strong for that. I won't allow it."

"Fine." She stood, needing something to do with her nervous energy.

"I gotta go honey. Dad's waiting in the car. He's taken this clinic thing on in such a huge way; it's exhausting. But, it's better than endless rounds of golf, trust me. I was gonna kill him if I had to do any more of that."

"Mom?" Sara's voice broke as she dropped back into her chair.

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"Sara, please don't do that. I raised you to be straightforward. If you have a question,"

"What the hell do I do now then? If you're so smart about it. Jesus. I love him. I hate him. I can't live without him. I have a goddamned hole in my chest all day, every day. He wants me to trust him. And I can't. Craig is…he's great, but, I can't do it mom. Jack absorbs me, it's terrifying."

"No honey. It's just love. You have to make up your own mind if you are ready for it. Not Blake's mind. Not my mind. Your mind. I'm sorry I wasn't more honest with you guys when your dad and I finally resolved our shit. That probably would have helped. Let's just say, relationships worth having, take work. Gotta go. Call me later. I love you."

"I love you too," Sara whispered into the dead air after her mother ended the call.

A quick glance at her computer brought a flush to her skin when she saw an email from
[email protected]
with "offer" in the subject line. Her body betrayed her at the sight of it as her scalp prickled and she had to bite her lip to restrain a wide, idiotic smile.
An offer from Jack, eh?
Well, that will make things interesting. She clicked to open the email.

Sure enough, it was an offer on one of her oldest listings and a pretty solid one at that. She called her seller and went through the details while she sent Jack an email acknowledgement at the same time. Counter offer in place, she called Jack.

"Hi," he answered, and could hear a commotion in the background that sounded like kids yelling.

"Hey, um, thanks for the offer."

He remained silent.

"So, well, we have a counter, but I think your buyer will like it."

"I'm listening," he stated, over a fresh round of squealing.

"Where the hell are you Jack? A Jonas Brothers concert?" she was irritated by his nonchalance and knew she had no reason to be.

"No, I'm not. So what's the counter," he asked. He wouldn't rise to her bait or tell her where he was.

"Ok, so we are countering ..."

He cut her off.

"How many times do I have to tell you Sara?
You
are not countering. Your
sellers
are countering. You are just representing them," he sighed. "God, you never listen do you?"

She felt herself tensing up. He had said this before–and he was right. She tended to insert herself as a "partner" with her clients, which is not how Stewarts trained them. They were to remain apart, professional, a representing agent and all that. She sighed.

"Sorry," she ed her throat and started over. "My sellers are countering with three seventy five to your offer of three sixty–and will give possession at closing, no need for a rent back. They agree to all your other terms but I want to know more about this lender–since when do you let anyone borrow money from the internet Jack?"

It was his turn to sigh.

"Yeah, I know but I have actually talked to a person at this outfit and she swears they are golden, so take it or leave it I guess," His voice became muffled then and she realized he'd put the phone down to talk to someone else. She tapped her foot.

"Well?" she asked. "Can you make three seventy-five work? I mean, the place would easily appraise for four hundred and you and I both know it."

"Fuck." She sighed at his frustration. She felt it every day and hearing his voice calmed her in ways she had forgotten.

"What's the status of the building?" She leaned back, wanting to keep his voice in her ear a bit longer.

"All systems stop and go as usual. Plumbing contractor quit after I caught his flunkies stealing a bunch of copper so that was a good day. The electricians work an average of two-point-five hours a day with four breaks for meals and smokes, I know. I've clocked them. It's a nightmare, thanks for asking." She grinned at his tone. God she missed him. Taking a deep breath she pressed onward, not sure why, but needing to say it, her mother's words ringing around in her brain.

"I miss you."

He snorted. "Funny way of showing it." She frowned, as her face heated up in a way only he could provoke.

"How's Heather?" She bit her lip at the frosty silence on the other end. Why did she do this to herself?

"About as good as that blonde kid, I'd say. They're putting up with us."

"Yeah. Somebody has to I guess. Since we can't."

"Yeah." The silence spooled out, strangely comfortable. Sara sighed.

"Well, I'll let you go."

"Wait. Sara. I…" She sat up, swallowed hard and had the bright and brittle realization that if he asked, she'd go to him. No questions asked. Her chest tightened. She needed him, his words, his touch, his presence. Needed him. Period. But there was still that trust thing.

"No, really I should go Jack. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say things like that."

"Like what, baby? Like that you miss me?" She started to protest but he cut her off. "Do not say a word. Just listen a minute, if you can. I miss you too, like a fucking phantom limb do you understand? You are a crucial, functioning part of me, always will be. But I get it. I'm a shit. I won't deny it. But I'll never, ever be happy or complete without you."

She sucked in a breath.

My God.
Her natural reaction won out and she winced even as she spoke. "Wow Jack, been watching Oprah or something?"

His bitter laugh brought sudden tears to her eyes. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "Who's the shit now, huh?"

"Yeah. We're quite the pair."

His voice went muffled again but she could hear him speak.

 "That's fine babe, I'll see you at home later."

Her brain processed that he must be with Heather somewhere. He had just said "see you at home… Her face flushed hotter and she stood, ready to end the more than scary conversation now.

"Sorry Sara, I just… he trailed off. "Oh hell, never mind."

"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!" she heard distinctly.

What the hell?
It hit her that she still truly had no concept of his life outside of real estate and women.

"I gotta go. I'll pass on their counter. I think I can make it work. Bye" and he hung up.

She sat for a solid five minutes and stared at her phone, as if it would spill all the answers to her questions.
Uncle Jack?
She reminded herself to ask Rob about Jack's family. Now that the whole town knew she had moved on apparently, perhaps he wouldn't be so pissed if she asked. His words clattered around in her brain like marbles; her skin went hot and cold in turns as she replayed it again and again.

Her mother's outburst of advice, telling her to realize it as love, that relationships meant work. What the hell was that supposed to mean? She knew how to work. She just could not trust this guy. Her mother had no idea what she was talking about; or did she?

She glanced at her watch and saw she only had about two hours to get home, fit in a run, clean up and get over to Craig's.

Craig.

Oh yeah, she had nearly forgotten about him. She took a deep shuddering breath and headed to her car, remorse in her heart, tears in her eyes. Jack was right. She shouldn't involve Craig any further in this. Poor guy. He had done nothing to deserve standing in between two of the most difficult humans on the planet as they played their stupid games, in an apparent attempt to destroy each other. It was a recipe for unhappiness for everyone. She squared her shoulders and wiped her eyes before pulling out into the evening traffic. She'd cut it off with him as soon as she got there.

****

"Hey, hold on there, sport." Jack swung the small boy up onto his shoulder, letting the girl clamor up his arm as they exited the playground. Their compact, warm bodies felt solid against his skin.

"Uncle Jack! Let's play catch!" The little girl dashed toward the huge bag of crap their mother had lugged to the park with them, producing three gloves and a ball. He grinned, dropped the boy to the ground and spent a blissful half hour tossing the ball around letting them fill the air with their four-year-old chatter. He finally got them piled into the car, keeping the top down as they wanted, even though it threatened rain. After thoroughly ruining all of their dinner with giant scoops of Washtenaw Dairy ice cream cones, he tugged their floppy bodies from the car outside his house. His sister stood in the kitchen, tending to something that smelled delicious on his stove.

"Toss them in the bathtub, throw some shampoo at them and shut the door, quick." She advised. He did, loving the easy way they chattered to him, and made a giant mess of his huge Jacuzzi tub. He shut the door, images of Sara here with him, with their child giggling away in the tub nearly made him pass out with longing.

Fuck. Get a grip.

He leaned on the door a minute, getting his ping-ponging emotions under control. Mo, his sister, nearly seven years his junior, read him like a book and he had no desire to discuss his failed relationship with her. Not after the conversation they'd had today. He bounded down the steps, grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. Maureen bustled around, put out plates of homemade macaroni and cheese, grilled chicken and salad for them. She hollered up the steps.

"Do not drown in there or ruin Uncle Jack's bathroom!" Squeals of laughter echoed down the stairwell. "They're good for another hour at least. Sit. Eat. Talk to me."

He watched as Maureen poured herself a glass of wine and sank into the chair opposite him. They'd come back for a few weeks to visit family, mostly Brandis'. All she had left of family now was Jack. He loved her and had been a solid big brother to her from the beginning, as their parents were more or less out of the picture by the time she'd had come along. Their mother, a functional alcoholic and their father…well, another story altogether. Jack grinned at his sister.

"Missed you." He raised his glass.

"I thought I'd be attending a wedding on this trip. What the fuck, Jack?" Cutting right to the chase, as usual.

He grimaced, took a bite of the amazing, rich, cheesy concoction she'd conjured out of his pantry, stalling. She glared at him, tapping her long finger on the table. Mo stood a stunning, thin five-foot nine-inches, and boasted an athletic body and as hot a temper to rival her brother's. "Stop stalling and answer me. What did you do?"

"Look, Mo, I don't want to talk about it."

"Tough shit. Could you salvage it?"

He sighed and put his chin in his hand, reliving their talk today. Dear God he missed her. Wished every single fucking day for that one moment back, where he didn't say, "You're right" and he could change things and say, "You're wrong. Those condoms are from another life. The one I lived before I found you. I love you please don't leave."

"Sweetie," his sister gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, my fault. End of story."

"But, maybe if…"

He held up a hand. "No. Discussion over." She glared at him then to his surprise, stood, and brought a chair close to him, sitting so their knees touched, holding both of his hands.

"Cut the shit John Patrick. You are miserable. I've never seen you like this." He tried to pull his hand out of her grip. "Get her back. I don't care what you did. Surely you can fix it?"

"Not likely." He looked away. She grabbed his chin, turned him to face her. Their matching blue eyes clashed. She smiled.

"I don't believe that for a minute. Try. You need her. I don't even know her and I want her for you."

"All right enough, ya bossy bitch. Go eat your food. Those spawns of yours need to eat too."

She stood, put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't screw this one up this time brother. I think it's the real deal. And that Heather?" She made a dismissive sound. "Don't like her. Get rid of her."

"Yes'm," he grinned into his wine glass. "I'll get right on that for you."

"Oh fuck you, you pompous asshole."

"So dainty. Do you kiss my friend with that mouth?"

"Yep, among other things." She put her chin on her hands and batted her eyes at him. He groaned.

"Ick. Spare me." They both jumped up at the sound of a crash and a loud cry. Jack took the steps two at a time, grabbed his niece from the slippery floor, holding her close, wrapping her in a towel and soothing her, loving the opportunity to be loved, unconditionally, for the sheer comfort he could provide. The sounds of Mo berating the girl's brother for shoving her out of the tub made him smile.