A Father's Name. Holly Jacobs
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care of it already. Don’t worry about Jace. Worry about the kid’s father. Call if you need anything else.” She disconnected before he could argue.
“Is he coming?” Bart asked.
Tucker shook her head. “It’s Jace’s dad. I don’t have all the particulars, but for now, he’s ours.”
Bart rolled the truck toward Jace, who giggled. “He’s not so bad.”
She looked at her son, no longer a boy, but a man. In a few months, he’d take off for college. She wasn’t sure what she’d do without him. She’d been younger than he was now when she’d had him. It had always been the two of them. The two of them and her dad. And the guys at the shop. Now, her dad was retiring and Bart was off to start his own life. Where did that leave her?
“Mom, you have that sort of spacey, sappy look on your face. Again,” Bart added for emphasis. “You’re thinking about me leaving home.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she denied. “I was thinking about how I’m going to get Werner’s car ready. He was coming by first thing in the morning for it, and Tyler was the one working on it.”
“I could watch the runt while you go finish it,” Bart offered. “Which was, by the way, I know what you were hoping I’d say.”
Tucker chuckled. “You are a smart boy. I shouldn’t be long, but I hate to have a customer show up for a car that’s not ready. And there’s an added benefit of you watching a kid and finding out it’s not a cake-walk—”
Bart’s groaned interrupted her. “Seriously, you’re going to turn me helping you out by watching this kid into some teen-parent-prevention lesson?”
Tucker laughed. “An inventive parent works with the opportunities life gives them.”
“You’re wacked, Mom, but that’s one lesson you’ve driven home without me watching the baby.” He made a shooing motion. “So, get, I’ve got it, Mom. I’ll call if me and the kid have problems.”
She started to the door, then turned back. “You’ve got his toys, his food and the new books.”
“You bought out half the store. We’ve got plenty. Go.”
“Fine. I’ll hurry.”
Tucker wasted no time climbing under the car that was still waiting for Tyler. She was sure the other guys would have finished it. One of them would have come back tonight, or come in early tomorrow if she asked, but she wanted to do it. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel as if she was doing something for Tyler. Something tangible.
When he’d been a customer and asked her out, he’d had an aura of self-confidence. He believed the world was his oyster and even her rejections couldn’t dent his self-image. That Tyler Martinez had known he had the world in the palms of his hands, and it didn’t seem to occur to him that his belief in that basic fact could change.
This new Tyler seemed to be getting kicked over and over again. He’d lost his career and his good name when he went to jail. And remembering his expression when he showed up with the baby, he was terrified he was going to lose his friend.
Well, she couldn’t do anything to help his friend, or get his old life back for him, but she could watch Jace and she could damn well fix this car.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
She started checking where Tyler had left off with the Werners’ car.
She knew Bart would call if he had problems.
She smiled because he’d caught on to her master plan. Taking care of a baby was a better life lesson than any of her lectures could be. Kids were hard work. Maybe watching Jace would help Bart remember that when he went off to college.
She decided that taking her time on the car was not such a bad idea after all, because being a grandmother in her thirties was definitely not on her list of future plans.
Of course, she wasn’t quite sure what those were, but she trusted that eventually she’d figure it out.
THREE DAYS LATER, Tyler dragged himself out of his truck and onto Angelina’s porch. He rang the doorbell and waited.
She’d been amazing, and he wasn’t sure why. She’d not only kept Jace, but with the help of her father and son, she’d juggled the baby’s care with work. She assured him that it was fine, that she knew he needed to be with his friend.
She hadn’t pushed him for explanations on his friendship with Jason. She hadn’t asked him for anything.
Tyler had spent the last three days waiting for Jason to wake up, but his friend had slowly gone from bad to worse. When Jason’s parents had arrived from their retirement community in Florida, Tyler had felt stretched almost beyond his limits as he tried to support them. Jason was their only son and they were crushed.
When the end came, it had been swift. There was no fanfare. No final moments with poignant words. One minute, Jason had been breathing—still clinging to life. The next minute he simply stopped—stopped breathing, stopped living. Mrs. Matthews had totally fallen apart. It was all he could do to help Mr. Matthews get her to Jason’s house where they were staying. Her grief was tangible.
Tyler pushed his own pain aside. The Matthews had done so much for him. He’d do what he had to in order to support them. Later, he’d grieve on his own.
He told them he’d bring the baby over later in the day and that he’d help them plan Jason’s funeral.
Tyler realized he hadn’t felt the full impact of Mellie’s death because he’d been in prison. Jason had called and told him when she’d died, but there hadn’t been anything Tyler could do. She wasn’t a blood relation, so there wasn’t even a possibility of being released for her funeral. He’d suffered through the loss on his own.
This time, he wasn’t alone. He’d thought it would hurt less if he was with others who shared his pain, but watching people he loved suffering made it hurt more.
He waited at Angelina’s door, pushing down his hurt.
The door flew open. “Tyler?”
“He’s gone. Jason’s dead.” It was the first time he’d said the words out loud and they struck him. “He’s gone.”
Angelina reached out, grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. What can I do?”
Angelina’s warm reaction didn’t exactly surprise him, but it didn’t mean he understood it, either. “I came to get Jace.” His mind was muddled; he accepted her concern, but he knew he couldn’t impose on Angelina any further.
Rather than go get the baby, she asked, “When’s the last time you slept or ate?”
“What day is it?” he asked.
“Saturday.”
The days had blurred together and he didn’t have a clue. “I don’t know.”
“You can crash in my room and I’ll take care of him for a little while longer. He’s a good kid.”
“Angel, I can’t—”
He thought of her as Angelina, or Angel. Back when he’d had the world in his hand, he’d called her that, but everything had changed since then. He knew he should call her Tucker, like everyone else, but she didn’t notice, or simply didn’t correct his slipup as she interrupted him. “You’re right. You can’t do much of anything until you get some sleep and some food. In that order.” She led him down the hall. “And a shower.”
She sniffed the air. “Maybe the shower first.”
“I—”
She led him to her room and gave him a gentle push inside. “The bathroom’s right through that door. There are clean towels in the cupboard. Take a shower, then go to bed,