Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

with the stress of holding it all inside.
    “You can tell me anything, Arthur. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”
    He turned to look at her, a tear teetering on his eyelashes, a tremble on his lips. “I miss him so goddamn much.”
    “So do I.” Then she gave in to her own tears.
    Arthur held her and let her cry. They held each other.

    * * * * *

    Taylor stood at the kitchen window. The boys laughed in the family room. Brian had the markers out and was decorating Jamey’s cast. There would be ink everywhere, but the stains would serve as a reminder to her. She desperately wanted a shower, but she was afraid to go where she couldn’t hear them.
    Instead she’d made coffee.
    And remembered the expression on Evelyn’s face, the look in Arthur’s eyes. Horror. Disbelief. She’d been with Jace.
    At least she didn’t have to lie anymore. She wouldn’t sneak out to meet him nor call him in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t be coming around again, except to take the boys out. She would never take him away from the boys. Nor would she indulge herself at their expense. She was done pushing this family to their limits.
    She wasn’t sure who to expect first. Evelyn on her own? Evelyn and Arthur together? Connie? David? God forbid. She’d paraded naked in front of him, and she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze in the emergency room.
    Jace was the first to arrive, pulling into the driveway. Cutting the engine, he sat for long moments. With the slant of the sun, she wasn’t sure he could see her in the window.
    She didn’t have a clue what he planned to say, but she couldn’t go on letting him try to fill Lou’s shoes. He deserved more than that. He couldn’t go on taking care of his brother’s family as if he were to blame for what happened to Lou.
    Lord, she’d miss the way he touched her, the way he made her feel. She’d ache when he would come over to play with the boys or take them out or drop them off after Little League.
    But he had his own life to live, and she wouldn’t steal pieces of him anymore to assuage her own loneliness.
    As he climbed from the truck and tramped the front walk, she steeled herself to do what was best for everyone. But Lord, it hurt.

    * * * * *

    Brian threw his marker on the table when Jace opened the screen door. Jamey hopped up, holding his arm out. “See my cast, Uncle Jace, isn’t it cool?”
    He ruffled the boy’s hair, then reached to ruffle Brian’s as well. “Better than cool, man.”
    “Will you sign it? I want everyone to sign it.” Jamey had to be in pain, but you’d never know it. Kids just seemed to be like that. When they weren’t milking it for all it was worth.
    “Sure, kiddo. Give me a pen.”
    Brian babbled excitedly about what he’d witnessed as Jace signed his name in bold red letters, then drew a skull and cross bones. Jamey bounced up from the couch to show Taylor.
    “Will you draw a skull on my arm, Uncle Jace?” Brian didn’t want to be left out.
    Taylor nodded and Brian handed Jace a black marker.
    Jamey tugged on her hand. “Mom, can I go over and show Ernie? He’s never had a cast.”
    “You need to rest, sweetie.”
    “Aw, Mom,” both boys moaned in unison.
    Jace had never presumed to tell her what to do with her kids, but he knew her fear, the same he’d felt, his heart climbing into his throat. But she had to let it go or she’d end up smothering them. The way he’d tried to smother her after Lou died.
    “It’ll be okay, Taylor. Let them go for a little while.”
    Her indecision flashed across her face, fear darkening her eyes. She didn’t want to let them out of the house, out of earshot. Out of her protective reach. Then she said, “Half an hour. Then I want you back to take a nap.”
    They rushed out of the house like a herd of elephants. She moved to the window to watch them stampede across the street.
    “You’d think nothing had happened,” she said.
    “Kids heal fast. We need to talk, Taylor.”
    “I know. You want coffee?”
    “Thanks, but no.” He needed to say what he had to say. Prepping the coffee was putting off the inevitable. “Sit down.”
    She lingered a moment longer at the window, then moved to the couch, perching on the edge and clasping her hands in her lap. “I’m going to say my piece first.”
    She laid the words out like a law. Perhaps if she got out her objections, he’d find a way to show her how wrong she was.
    “I’m listening.” He didn’t know whether to stand