Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) (20 page)

The panic beat against my breastbone again. He cupped the back of my head. I shuddered as the calm he brought washed over me.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Asher.”

“Yes, you would. Because you think it’s best for me. And Mason. Don’t. Please. I need to talk to you. For me, but for you, too.”

The words I’d written him were there between us.
I crave your touch more for its kindness.

“Yes to the talking.”

Asher pressed the pad of his thumb to my bottom lip, and I could feel the longing in his gaze. “And Seattle?”

Avoiding his question, I said, “Let me ask Briar for the pictures. If I don’t talk to her now, she’ll worry.”

T
aking
Mason back to Mount Vernon was hard. He was quiet the whole flight, gripping his new video game so tight his fingers turned white.

On our drive home, he asked, “Why can’t I live with Abbi? I like her. They have schools in Idaho.”

“But your mom’s in Mount Vernon. You wouldn’t get to see her often if you lived at Dahlia’s.”

Mason slouched in his seat and stuck out his lower lip. “I like Dahlia.”

“But you love your mom.” Mason was young. He needed Jessica. He needed stability.

“I guess. But Dahlia pays attention to what I say. And Abbi’s fun.”

I’d really let my marriage, and Jessica’s behavior, spiral out of control. Already the divorce was impacting Mason.

I’d made my first public statement confirming Jessica and I had been separated for nearly a year. I’d learned to put Mason first, and it was effortless now, but I was also more worried about Dahlia’s feelings and needs than my own. Maybe I was finally growing up.

Mrs. Knowles opened the back door when I pulled up to the house, which surprised me. Mason greeted her, still appearing sad.

I set his bag down by the back stairs. I’d left my stuff in the car, planning to crash in my apartment. Not just because I didn’t want to be in the same house as Jessica, but also because I didn’t want Dahlia to feel like there was anything still between us.

“Jessica isn’t here,” Mrs. Knowles said.

“Will she be back tonight?” I asked.

Mrs. Knowles shrugged, the smile sliding off her face. “She didn’t say. She called me a couple of hours ago and asked me to be here when Mason came home.” She wrapped Mason in a hug, but he pulled away.

“Can I play my new game?” he asked with a little sniffle.

“Sure,” I said. “But just for a little bit. It’s almost bedtime.”

He dragged himself over to the game console and shoved the disk into the slot.

I turned back to Mrs. Knowles. “I’m worried about him.” I tipped my head toward the couch where Mason was slumped, eyes glued to the television.

Mrs. Knowles pursed her lips. I knew she was trying to decide whether or not to say something.

“You should be,” she finally said.

I rubbed my hands through my hair and over my eyes. “You know about the divorce?”

“The whole country knows, dear. Along with your friendship with that pretty author.”

“I need Mason with me,” I said. “That’s going to be hard with my crazy schedule, but I’m hoping you’ll come along, help me with the transition. Jessica’s going to fight me.”

Mrs. Knowles’s chin quivered. “If I can help, I will. In a heartbeat. He’s much happier when you’re around.”

I cleared my throat and shifted my feet. “So you haven’t seen anything that could help build a case for me to get custody? Any drugs? Men in the house?”

“She calls me before she leaves if I’m not here. The time Mason was here by himself is the only I know of. I haven’t seen anything more than wine or beer in the house.”

“Her boyfriends?”

“She meets them elsewhere. They don’t call the house phone.”

“Dammit.” I pressed my thumbs to my eyes.

“Do you want me to stay or are you going to?” Mrs. Knowles asked.

I was supposed to be in Seattle early in the morning for our practice session. I looked over at Mason and noticed the white of dried tear tracks down his face. “I’m staying here.”

Mrs. Knowles laid her hand on my arm. “You’re good with him. For him.”

“Tell that to the judge.”

Her eyes were serious, sad when she said, “I will, dear. Whether one asks or not.”

* * *

“
M
ason
, get your butt down here, now,” I shouted up the stairs from the kitchen.

“Isn’t this domestic,” Jessica said from the back door. Her hair was wild, her clothes rumpled. “Came crawling home, huh?”

“Fuck off,” I said.

“That’s no way to talk to your wife.”

“We’re separated. Papers signed and filed at the courthouse. You forced the issue, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “It’s that smut writer you’re screwing. She’s the reason you’re happy about the divorce.”

“No, I’m happy because we’re over. Have been for years. Since Olivia died. Who’d you fuck last night? The lawyer or Car Wash Dale?”

“Like you can talk. You flew my son out to meet your bed buddy.”

Dahlia had been right. I took too much delight when I said, “We’re not sleeping together. She’s a friend. End of story.”

“I have the pictures of you two. I have the proof.”

“That we talked on a beach. Sure did. Best conversation of my life.”

Jessica’s blue eyes narrowed further and her lips peeled back. I wondered if she’d start growling. “Dale met her for a date. Said she’s pretty in a wallflower kind of way.” Jessica sauntered forward so her body was pressed against mine. “Seems like a step down from me, and we both know she won’t compare to me in bed. Or out.”

I refused to look down and check out her cleavage. I kept my eyes on her face, noting the faint twist of her mouth as she realized her ploy failed. “You have no say in my love life.”

“You don’t know what love means.”

“I know we never had it.”

I finished throwing Mason’s lunch into his lunch box. I grabbed his breakfast sandwich from the microwave, burning my finger on the melted cheese.

“Mason,” I bellowed. “We gotta go now.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I need to get out of here before I say something I’m going to regret. Let my lawyer know when you want Mason, but I intend to be around a lot this next month.”

Mason’s feet pounded down the steps. His sneakers weren’t tied. I bent and tied them double-quick, snagged his backpack from its hook, and handed him his sandwich.

“Brushed your teeth?” I asked.

He nodded as he bit into his sandwich.

“Come give me a hug, honey.”

Mason let her wrap her arms around him for a second before he darted out the door.

“Mrs. Knowles’ll pick you up from school,” she called.

I glowered at her. “No. I will. One of us is going to parent, Jessica. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. But our son is going to know I love him.”

She waved me off. “Enjoy playing daddy.”

I grabbed my car keys from the counter and slammed the door.

I took a minute to calm down before I got into the car.

“Are you getting divorced because you met Dahlia?” Mason asked.

I started the car, wishing Jessica would’ve waited ten more minutes to come home.

“You heard that, did you? No. Dahlia’s my friend. I’m not marrying her.”

“Too bad.”

I braked harder than I expected. I peered back into the rearview mirror. “What?”

“I like Dahlia. Abbi, too. I liked Darlin’. If we lived with them, I could ride that horse every day and we could eat buffalo burgers and I’d get to play baseball with you.”

“That does sound nice.” Warmth filled my chest with the fantasy Mason evoked. It sounded like paradise.

“Are you really going to pick me up?”

“Of course, buddy. I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

* * *

“
T
hese new songs are awesome
, Ash. Some of the best you’ve ever written,” Bill said when I walked into the studio. He had the pages spread out in front of him. He strummed out a few chords, smiling. “I can feel the clicking, and I haven’t even heard you sing the lyrics yet.”

I bit my tongue. My relationship with Bill had changed. I didn’t know if he was being effusive because he liked the tunes or because he was trying to make up for his mistakes with Jessica. We’d never been here before. I’d never questioned his honesty or his integrity. Now, I wasn’t sure I could trust either.

“Grab your guitar. Let’s work through this bridge before practice. The guys want to grab a bite and a beer after.”

“Can’t do the dinner. I need to pick up Mason. He’s seems to be taking the divorce well, but he’s just a little kid.”

Bill scratched the side of his head. “Okay, man. Let’s do this now. You got time?”

Professionally, we clicked. Better than we had in years. We’d made great use of our time, getting Simon’s song worked out with some quick fret work by Bill. Simon offered another for the sound track, and I’d jumped on it, loving the slow, smooth chord progression. Over the past ten days, I’d compiled six more songs from other indie rock bands and one female electric viola player. As cool as her playing was, it was her voice that absolutely blew me away. I looked forward to working with her again soon. A duet, maybe.

Later that day, I dropped Mason off at Bryan’s house for a sleepover and drove back to Seattle, exhausted. I’d talked to Dahlia, as I did every day, but she’d been distracted by her deadlines.

When I rolled into the apartment, Bill was already there, sitting on the beat-up leather couch in the living room. I told him he and Cammie could stay with my while they were in town for the show and recording the new racks. He watched me walk into the room, his eyes never straying back to the baseball game blaring from the big, flat-screen TV. He picked up the remote and clicked off the game.

I raised my eyebrow. Bill was a baseball fanatic. He hated to miss any play of any game.

“I should’ve told you about Jessica’s breakdown sooner. I’m really sorry, man.”

“Yeah.” I raised my hand. “Look, I’m not pissed. Not anymore, anyway. I don’t want it eating away at any more of my life. You and me, we go back further than Jessica.”

“I talked to your lawyer after you left to pick up Mason. It’s been bugging me this whole time I’ve been up here, what you’re going through. I told him about Jessica coming to my room. Cammie wasn’t happy I never told her about that night, thinks I didn’t say anything because more had happened. But I swear, Asher, I never screwed your wife.”

“Pete told me.” I clapped him on the shoulder, ending with a squeeze. “Thanks.” I met his eyes. “Means a lot, you doing that for me.” I kept my hand on his shoulder as I leaned in closer. “I’ll beat the shit out of you if you ever touch Dahlia, twenty years of friendship or not.”

Bill nodded. “Fair enough. I always liked her. For you, I mean.” He paused. “I miss hanging out.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Things good with Cammie?”

He clasped his hand over my forearm. “They will be. I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Good. Come on. I’ll buy you a beer.”

Bill smiled, his eyes alight with pleasure. “I’d like that.”

* * *

T
he problem
with an hour-long commute was I spent a lot of time driving. Once again, I was on the road between Mount Vernon and Seattle. At least I’d seen Mrs. Knowles this morning when I picked up Mason for school. She’d told me she’d started a notebook cataloguing Jessica’s activities and careless comments. I would’ve felt worse about spying if Jessica hadn’t sicced Car Wash Dale on Dahlia.

I couldn’t believe Dale went along with such manipulation. He’d seemed like a decent, if boring, guy the few times we’d met at school-related events.

I’d turned over the pictures from Briar, which Pete said helped my case because it showed that Dale’s relationship with Jessica started while we were still married. Bill’s affidavit was on file now, too. I was waiting for the media to report that information, struggling with what I’d tell Mason.