didn’t matter to my in-laws, and it drove Henry crazy. He couldn’t understand it. As Davey’s symptoms became more pronounced, his father pushed him harder to be the right kind of boy.”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line to keep from screaming the next words. “He forbade me from taking him to the doctor to be tested. His solution was to punish him, take away the toys he liked and force him into activities that ended up making us all more stressed. Davey started having tantrums and fits, which only infuriated Henry. He was getting ready to run for congress.” She rolled her eyes. “The first step in the illustrious political campaign his family has planned.”
“Following in his father’s footsteps,” Jase murmured.
It was true. Emily had married into one of the most well-known political families in the country since the Kennedys. The Whitakers had produced at least one US senator in each of the past five generations of men, and one of Henry’s great-uncles had been vice president. “I didn’t just marry a man, I took on a legacy. The worst part was I went in with my eyes open. I practically interviewed for the job of political wife, and I was ready to be a good one.” She snapped her fingers. “I could throw a party fit for the First Lady with an hour’s notice.”
Jase cleared his throat. “I’m sure your husband appreciated that.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “He didn’t appreciate it. He expected it. There’s a big difference.” She shrugged. “None of it mattered once Davey was born. I knew from the time he was a baby he was different and I tried to hide...tried to protect him from Henry as long as possible. But once I couldn’t anymore, there was no doubt about my loyalty.” She plastered a falsely bright smile on her face. “So here I am back in Crimson.”
Davey looked up from his building set. “I’m finished, Mommy.”
She stepped around Jase and sat on the carpet to admire the intricate structure Davey had created. “Tell me about it, sweetie.”
“It’s a landing pod with a rocket launcher. It’s like the ones they have on The Clone Wars, only this one has an invisible force field around it so no one can destroy it.”
If only she could put a force field around her son to protect him from the curiosity and potential ridicule that could come due to his differences from other kids. “I love it, Wavy-Davey.”
One side of his mouth curved at the nickname before he glanced at Jase. “He helped. He’s good at building. Better than Uncle Noah or Grammy.”
“High praise,” Jase said, moving toward the bookshelves. “If you make a bridge connecting it to this one, you’d have the start of an intergalactic space station.”
Emily darted a glance at Davey as Jase moved one of the sets a few inches to make room for this new one. Her boy didn’t like anyone else making decisions about the placement of his precious building sets. To her surprise, Davey only nodded. “I’ll need to add a hospital and mechanic’s workshop ’cause if there’s a battle they’ll need those.”
“Maybe a cafeteria and bunk room?” Jase suggested.
“You can help me with those if you want.” Leaving Emily speechless where she sat, Davey gently lifted the new addition and carried it to the bookshelf. With Jase’s help, he slid it into place with a satisfied nod. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?” he asked, turning to Emily.
“Sure thing,” she agreed. “Grammy, Uncle Noah and Aunt Katie are waiting.” Her family was used to waiting as transitions were one of Davey’s biggest challenges. Sometimes it took long minutes to disengage him from a project.
Her son stepped forward, his arms ramrod straight at his sides. “It’s time, Mommy. I’m ready.”
She almost laughed at the confusion clouding Jase’s gaze. People went in front of a firing squad with more enthusiasm than Davey displayed right now. It would have been funny if this ritual didn’t break her heart the tiniest bit. Embarrassment flooded through her at what Jase might think, but the reward was too high to worry about a little humiliation.
She rose to her knees and opened her arms. Davey stepped forward and she pulled him close, burying her nose in his neck to breathe him in as she gave him a gentle hug. A few moments were all he could handle before he squirmed in her embrace. “I love you,” she whispered before letting him go.
He met her gaze. “I know,” he answered simply, then turned and walked out of the room.
She stood, wiping her cheeks. Why bother to hide the tears? She’d left the lion’s share of her pride, along with most of her other possessions, back in Boston.
“Sorry,” she said to Jase, knowing her smile was watery at best. Emily might be considered beautiful, but she was an ugly crier. “It’s a deal he and I have. Every time he finishes a set, I get a hug. A real one.”
“Emily,” he whispered.
“Don’t say anything about it, please. I can’t afford to lose it now. It’s dinnertime, and I don’t need to give my family one more reason to worry about me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded. “In case no one has said it lately,” he said as she moved past, “your ex-husband may be political royalty, but he’s also a royal ass. You deserve to be loved better.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through her like a cool waterfall, both refreshing and fierce in its power.
She shivered but didn’t stop walking out of the room. Reality kept her moving forward. Davey was her full reason for being now. There was no use considering what she did or didn’t deserve.
“Is that you, Jase?”
“Yeah, Dad.” Jase slipped into the darkened trailer and flipped on the light. “I’m here. How’s it going?”
“I could use a beer,” Declan Crenshaw said with a raspy laugh. “Or a bottle of whiskey. Any chance you brought whiskey?”
His father was sprawled on the threadbare couch that had rested against the thin wall of the mobile home since Jase could remember. Nothing in the cramped space had changed from the time they’d first moved in. The trailer’s main room was tiny, barely larger than the dorm room Jase had lived in his first year at the University of Denver. From the front door he could see back to the bedroom on one side and through the efficiency kitchen with its scratched Formica counters and grainy wood cabinets to the family room on the other.
“No alcohol.” He was used to denying his dad’s requests for liquor. Declan had been two years sober and Jase was hopeful this one was going to stick. He was doing everything in his power to make sure it did. Checking on his dad every night was just part of it. “How about water or a cup of tea?”
“Do I look like the queen of England?” Declan picked up the potato chip bag resting next to him on the couch and placed it on the scuffed coffee table, then brushed off his shirt, chip crumbs flying everywhere.
“No one’s going to mistake you for royalty.” Jase’s dad looked like a man who’d lived a hard life, the vices that had consumed him for years made him appear decades older than his sixty years. If the alcohol and smoking
