My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

I stride into a diner near the training facility, but I’m not here for the usual postpractice bite. I’m here to confront a ghost.

Anxiety spikes as I scan the room, and my throat prickles with emotion when I finally see her at a booth next to the window. My biological mother, the woman who left me over pancakes at a truck stop. I recall how good they tasted, the syrup and butter mixed together. I recall the terror of realizing she’d left me there alone. I didn’t speak for three months afterward. At first, my social worker assumed I was mute from birth. It took weeks of therapy to get me to start talking. My silence came from a place of deep pain. I’d watched her talking to a man outside the truck stop, then watched as she got inside his truck. I’d watched her drive away from me.

I try to relax, rolling my neck back and forth.

Initially I resisted texting her.

But I haven’t been sleeping well. My mind is fuzzy.

Memories of her hit me in odd moments—when I lift weights, when I watch TV, when I take a shower.

What if there’s more to her story?

What if understanding her reasons gives me a peace I hadn’t realized I needed?

It’s answers. I need to hear her say the words of why she abandoned me. Closure, maybe. A way to quiet the curiosity since I found that note.

After all, her blood runs through my veins. She has made me who I am today, whether it’s indirectly or not. She’s left blanks in my life, and I need to fill them in.

I have to know why.

I take a deep breath, grounding myself, before making my way toward her booth. Her eyes meet mine as I approach, and I glimpse the flicker of recognition in her gaze. A trace of remorse brushes across her face, but it quickly fades into nervousness.

She looks at me intently, maybe looking for traces of the little kid she left behind all those years ago.

“Sunflower?” I ask as I approach.

She blinks up at me, her eyes the same clear blue as mine. “Jasper,” she says with a hint of a smile. “Hi. I go by Rae-Anne now.”

I sit across from her. All my rehearsed words vanish.

She’s pretty, with faded auburn hair and a face that looks fuller than the one I remember. She’s wearing jeans and a flowy shirt. My gaze falls to the silver band on her finger. Not Dad’s ring. He died when I was a baby. Who is she now?

“Thanks for meeting me,” she says quietly. “It’s hard to approach a star athlete. I hope me leaving the note was okay.”

It really wasn’t. She had to somehow drive past the guard at the front of the lot. Maybe she slipped in while he was doing something else. It makes me wonder how desperate she is. I nod. “It’s been a while.”

She fiddles with a napkin. “I saw you play a game once in high school. I drove all the way to Utah from Kansas. That’s where I ended up for a few years.”

My hands clench. She came to a game.

“Why not come up to me? Why stay gone all this time?”

She looks down at the table. “I lost my nerve. I didn’t deserve to be around you after what happened. Call me ‘mom.’ Please. If you want. Sorry. Maybe that’s too much.”

I grit my teeth. “Yeah, my mom’s Paulina. Elijah’s my dad. Nothing you do can spoil that.”

She shreds the napkin. “Of course. I don’t want to. I’m here now. Ask me anything.”

“Fine, why’d you leave me?”

She nods, clearly expecting the question. “I didn’t leave you. I escaped. I made sure you escaped too. It wasn’t safe for us there. It was planned actually. It was the only way to get you away from Harry and his people.”

“You mean the cult?” Harry was their leader, a bearded man who wore a robe like a monk.

She nods, eyes downcast. “I planned to return for you. Do you remember the compound?”

The images rush back, of barbed wire fences, dead-eyed followers, and extensive greenhouses. I remember we grew pot and we’d load it onto trucks every week. Who knows what else he was doing inside some of those buildings. There were probably other drugs too. Harry preached about living off the land and getting away from material things, when in the end, he was reaping major profits.

I remember her, too, the way she held my hand when we’d walk through the redwood trees of Northern California, the silly songs she’d sing. I pack that memory away.

She reaches out, her hands shaking. I stick mine under the table.

“I understand if you don’t trust me,” she says. “But, please, just hear me out.”

I pull my hands out from under the table and meet her gaze. “I recall Harry was your boyfriend, right? He was always around us.” I didn’t like him, and he pretty much ignored me. I can’t recall a single time he ever said my name. He just called me “you.”

She takes a deep breath, seeming to gather her thoughts before speaking. “Harry wasn’t who he claimed to be. He manipulated us all. The compound was nothing but a cover. The local police were already investigating him, but I escaped with you.”

“I see.” So she left before the hammer fell down on Harry.

“I’m sorry,” she says as a tear falls down her cheek. “Leaving you was my biggest regret.”

Her words float in the charged air. I study her face for lies, but all I see is sadness. Her shoulders tremble as she sobs, and I find myself handing her napkins, a reflex.

“I never meant to leave you,” she says. “I was terrified. For me, for you. I took you to that truck stop, praying I’d find help. I called the cops before I left and told them where you were. Then I hitched a ride to Kansas to some friends.”

“Why not take me?”

She swallows hard. “I thought I could escape, clear my head, then come back.”

“But you didn’t.”

It takes her a few moments to reply, as if she doesn’t really want to tell me. “I fell in love,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “I met someone, and things changed.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes.

She nods, guilt on her face. “Please, I’m sorry for not coming back. I have another family now, Jasper—a husband and a son. We live in Philly.”

Her confession hits me like a gut punch. Abandoned for a new life, a new family.

“Happy ending for you, then.”

The diner feels smaller, the air thicker. Her pain, her excuses, they don’t change a thing. They don’t fill the hurt she left inside me.

As the waitress approaches, I avert my gaze from Rae-Anne. We each order coffee, silence stretching between us. My adoptive parents filled in some blanks when I was older, and I scoured the internet as a teen. Harry and his group got busted for drug trafficking about a year after I was found.

The coffee lands on our table, and I’m just sitting there, watching Rae-Anne mechanically open a sugar packet.

I shake my head. “You could’ve reached out. I even wondered if you were dead.”

“The cops were after me for other stuff. It was safer for you, not being with me.” Her voice is low. “I’m different now. I go to PTA meetings and work as a receptionist where my husband works, at a construction company.”

“So why did you write the note?” I ask.

Her smile is faint. “I feel like I earned the chance to see you now.”

I swallow, wishing I could get up and leave.

I don’t agree with her.

I’m not sure I believe her.

She could have come back for me.

The pain of her leaving is still raw, but there’s a tiny part of me, the kid in me, who really wants to find something in her that makes the pain vanish.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to stay composed.

“There’s not another reason you wanted to see me?” I ask.

She hesitates, her eyes tracing the tablecloth as if searching for the right words. “I know I can’t undo the past or the hurt I’ve caused,” she says softly. “But I spent years reflecting on my choices and how they affected you. I’d like us to get to know each other.”

I tap my finger on the table. I’m not an idiot. It’s been all over the news about my new contract with the Pythons. This could be about money.

“I realized that I’ve been running away from meeting you,” she says. “I thought leaving was the answer then, but maybe it was a mistake. I was only twenty-five.”

I inhale a sharp breath as a realization dawns.

She left me at the same age as Jane is now.

The difference between them is unbelievable. Jane, who is good and kind and devoted to Londyn, and then there’s Rae-Anne, who dumped me and went off to start a new family.

The diner door swings open, and Dalton steps in, heading straight to the counter for a to-go order. Desperate for an escape, I seize the moment. “Talley! Hey! Over here, man.”

He looks up, sees me, and frowns. Yeah, our relationship is still on thin ice. We’ve had a couple of meetings where we watched tape with Pete.

Juggling his takeout, he approaches, his expression irritated. I don’t give him a chance to speak.

“Where were you?” I blurt, feigning frustration. “We were supposed to go over game tapes. You bailed. What gives?”

He starts to respond. “Hang on a damn—”

I cut him off. “Forget it. Let’s just go. You’ve got your food. No breaks for us, right? This is the grind.”

I stand up quickly, signaling the waitress. I point to our table, miming, “Check please.”

Rae-Anne’s voice trembles. “Jasper, when can we meet again? I have so much more to tell you.”

I avoid her eyes, my gut twisting. “I’ve got your number. We’ll talk later,” I say.

She looks like she wants to argue, but I’m already moving. I hand the waitress a fifty. “This covers everything. Keep the change,” I say in a mumble.

As Dalton and I step out of the diner, he nudges me, his frustration palpable. “What’s with the act back there? You’ve been icing me out, and suddenly we’re pals in public?”

Maybe. But he was the jerk first.

“It’s complicated.” I sigh, not ready to dive into the heart of it.

His gaze drifts past me, landing on Rae-Anne’s profile by the window. “Her? Your mom?”

“Bio mother,” I correct. “Look, let’s not do this here. Carson’s?” I suggest, a tentative olive branch.

“Didn’t think I was your kind of company.”

I manage a half smile. “Maybe we both need a change of scenery.”

Reluctantly, he agrees. “All right, I’ll follow you.”

At Carson’s, the bar’s dim light and the murmur of conversations offer a semblance of normalcy. I push away the conversation with Rae-Anne as we settle onto our barstools.

“What went down at the diner?” he asks, his curiosity not quite casual.

I give him the CliffsNotes—my mom, my real parents, the silence of years. He listens, his expression neutral, giving me the space to just talk.

I swirl my beer, the weight of Rae-Anne heavy in my gut. “No clue what she’s after. Money, redemption, a kidney. It’s all a guess.”

“Sucks, man.”

I pause. “And about the day we met. We’re in this season together. Time to act like it. Let’s start fresh. What do you think?”

He winces. “Yeah, about that. I’ve been a bit of a jerk. Pete’s been pushing hard, and well, my ex chose that day to walk. I’m from a small town in Texas, and now I’m living in a big city. I don’t know anyone.” He stares down at his beer. “I’m not exactly a people person. It sort of feels like everyone is watching and judging me to make sure I live up to the hype, you know?”

I study the lines of his face. Man, he’s just a kid. He’s barely twenty-two. “It’s a big change, I get it, but you’ll find your footing, both on the team and in the city. I’m always around if you need an ear. Work together, yeah?”

“Deal,” he says, a lopsided grin breaking through. “And just so you know, I’m not after your spot. Not this season, anyway.”

We laugh, our glasses meeting.

Later, we move to the pinball machine, and he’s found some of his cockiness. “Show me what you’ve got, old man.”

He’s surprisingly good, but not quite good enough. “Looks like I got played,” he says after I take my turn and blow his score away.

“Double or nothing, rookie?”

“You’re on,” he shoots back with a grin.

It’s been over a week since the Jane Orgasm. That’s what I’ve dubbed it in my head, because it’s too monumental to be just another night. It feels like forever since I’ve seen her, but she’s been in contact with me over texting for another match. Maybe it feels like it’s been so long because so much has happened. I met my bio mom and connected with Dalton.

Then, last night, with encouragement from Jane, I met up for a date with my second match.

It sucked.

Now here I am, hood up, sprinting through a downpour after my training session. Destination: the Darling Bookstore.

I push through, and the door chimes as I step in. Water trails from my soaked hoodie, dripping from my nose to my gray shorts.

I glance upward, admiring the high ceiling and fancy molding. My eyes are drawn to the staircase in the center, its wood steps polished. Past the stairs, the café buzzes with quiet activity.

The tranquility makes me want to let out a yell, just for the fun of breaking the silence.

“Jasper is in the house,” I say under my breath as I wipe rain from my eyes.

“Can I help you?” calls a voice, and I squint and spot Babs, grinning like she’s in on a joke. I’ve always liked her vibe.

“Hey, Babs,” I say with a wave. “Jane around?”

She gives a subtle glance to the side. Then, from behind an aisle, a walking fortress of books emerges, unmistakably Jane by the long legs. As she peeks around her load, it starts to topple and I lunge forward, catching a couple of novels before they hit the ground. The rest tumble down and thud against my shins.

“Ow, dammit,” I groan, rubbing my leg. “That’s one way to make an entrance.”

She blinks up at me and says an “I’m sorry,” then stares in disgust at the mess at our feet. She stoops to pick them up, and I can’t help but notice the oversize men’s blue dress shirt she’s wearing, belted at the waist and paired with heels. Hot.

Our eyes meet, and there’s this electric jolt, a silent reminder of what went down between us.

I squat to help her with the books. “Sorry about the mess.”

Her cheeks flush pink, and her eyes dart everywhere but at me. Ah, she’s still feeling shy. “It’s fine. Just watch the water. Stand back, will you?”

I raise my hands and back away. Babs leans in, curiosity in her gaze. “Long time no see, Jasper.”

I lean on the counter, trying to look casual. “Yeah, I guess you know that Jane convinced me to join Cupid’s Arrow. I’m their star client. But these dates she picks? Yikes.”

Jane bristles as she brushes down her dress. “As if. You practically begged to join. And what was wrong with Melinda?”

Melinda being the date I had last night.

I shoot Jane a look, my gaze lingering on the way her hair falls around her shoulders. It’s a pretty color, a soft honey blond with lighter shades mixed in. It frames her oval face and contrasts with the forest green of her eyes.

Those eyes were soaked in desire when I made her come.

I shake the memory away. It’s weird, you know? One minute you’re just kinda sorta friends, and the next, there’s this image of her burned into your brain, an image you’re not supposed to think about but do. The way her hands clung to me, the sound she made when she came, the vanilla scent of her skin—

Focus, Jasper.

Forget Jane and her scowly Jane-ness that makes her irresistible. She’s clearly not interested. Otherwise why would she immediately set me up on another date after the orgasm?

I clear my throat. “Melinda likes to write poetry.”

Jane nods. “Right. And you minored in poetry. It says so on your application. The database loved you guys together.”

“I don’t like bad poetry,” I mutter. “The database had it wrong,”

She moves past me and gets behind the counter and angles the screen toward me. “Melinda even wrote a glowing review. Don’t worry. I’m the only one who has access to these. It helps me make better matches. Stop glaring at me and read it.”

I look at the screen.

Two worlds colliding, the stars aligning . . . I never thought I could find a perfect guy through a dating service, but I am absolutely bewitched, body and soul, by the most incredible person. Plus I love football. Thank you for matching me with Jasper! Oh, and the poetry themed wine bar was a great hit. Thanks for the recommendation, Jane.

My eyes go to the ceiling. There’s a water stain up there that’s more exciting.

Fine, Melinda loves football, points to Jane, but mostly she talked about how she’d redesign the uniforms with sequins. Yes, she is gorgeous. Yes, she likes poetry. But it just didn’t work.

“That,” I say, pointing at the screen, “is exactly the problem. She seemed cool at first, but then writes something like that? She’s living in a fantasy.”

“You’re mad at me?” Jane puts her hands on her hips.

A little.

Because I was bored to tears on the date.

Because all I could think about was Jane while Melinda sat across from me.

“Are you taking my matches seriously?”

She nods. “I am. Truly. Melinda and I, we used to model together, and I’ve always thought she was great. How was the poetry-themed wine bar? I’ve heard good things about it.”

I grunt. “It wasn’t my scene. Very dark and moody.”

She exhales. “Okay, I’ll make a note of that.”

“She made up a poem about me, you know. Jasper, my gridiron king, In my heart, I wear your Super Bowl ring.”

Jane bites her lip. “Really? Like she got up on stage?”

“Yeah. It’s not funny,” I say. “And I never should have given her my digits. She’s been sending me little snippets all day. I might have to change my number.” I shove my phone under Jane’s nose and point out the last text she sent: You are the soft squishy center of my coconut.

Jane’s lips twitch, but before she can break out in a smile, I glare at her.

She rubs her temples, her face drawn in concentration. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. You just didn’t connect with her. I mean, it’s a cute little . . . metaphor? Not quite a poem there. Maybe if you’d known her better, it wouldn’t seem so weird. But this is why people date, to find the right person. I’ll let her know that it didn’t work for you and to stop texting.” She types on her computer. “Let me just make some tweaks to your data and update your profile . . .”

She talks under her breath for a moment, then sighs and turns the computer to me. “I think I have someone. Erin. She’s wonderful. The software gave you an eighty percent chance of forming a long-term relationship with her.”

I don’t even look at the computer. “Uh-huh, what was the percentage with Melinda?”

She winces. “Ninety percent.”

I run a hand through my hair. “See, that’s the issue. Compatibility isn’t always about what you have in common. It’s about spark.”

She nods. “Right, but we have to start somewhere. I’m not giving up on you, Jasper. I’ll find you someone.”

I exhale, crossing my arms as frustration eats at me. Of course she thinks I’m frustrated because of Melinda, but that’s not it at all. The truth is, Melinda was fun. Just not my kind of fun.

“Erin is super sweet,” Jane says quietly as she studies my face. “I really like her as a person. Let’s give it a shot, okay?”

I glance at the computer screen. There’s a woman with long, light-brown hair who’s wearing a tank top that shows off tanned arms and a nice rack. Her smile is a ten.

But Jane . . .

That night with her—god, it was something else. It was intense and completely unexpected. The kind of night that plays on a loop in my head.

But now, I’m struck by an overwhelming sense of . . . uncertainty? Regret? It’s hard to say. Besides the blushing, she seems completely unfazed by it all, as if our hookup was just another Saturday for her. And maybe it was. Jane’s not the type to get hung up on things, not like me.

Maybe I stepped over a line by letting our kiss get out of hand. We’ve always had this sort of push and pull dynamic, a weird frenemy relationship. Now I’m left wondering where we stand.

Are we friends who just happened to hook up?

Or has that night shifted something between us?

The weirdest part is, I’m not even sure what I want the answer to be. Part of me wants more. But then there’s the rational side, the side that knows how complicated things could get. She doesn’t do complications.

I’m struck by a sudden desire to pull her aside and ask, “What are we doing?” But I hold back.

Still.

It’s like we’re caught in each other’s gravity.

I see how earnest she is to make her matchmaking business work. I want to help her. Even if it means going on another date.

But what does she want?

Dammit, maybe the truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.

“Fine,” I grumble.

I watch as Jane’s fingers fly over the keyboard, setting up what I’m already labeling as “The Date I’m Going on Because I Don’t Know What Else to Do.”

Jane looks up, her eyes bright. “Done! I’ll let you know when Erin is free. You’ll like her, Jasper. She’s a lot of fun. Maybe this time we can do a daytime coffee date? Keep it short and sweet?”

“Sure,” I mutter, trying to muster enthusiasm I don’t feel. The truth is, no matter how fun or beautiful Erin might be, she’s not Jane. And that’s the problem.

I walk closer to the door, ready to leave, but hesitate.

“Jane,” I start, turning back to face her. “I—”

She waits, her expression open and expectant.

Never mind. The words lodge in my throat, refusing to come out.

“Thanks for setting this up,” I say lamely, hating how dumb it sounds. “I mean, you’re right. You have to keep trying before you find someone. Thanks for letting me vent in person.”

She nods, though there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Disappointment? Sadness? She quickly masks it with a professional smile. “Of course. I’m here to help.”

We stare at each other, longer than is comfortable. I’m thinking about how different she is from Rae-Anne. How fierce she is when it comes to taking care of Londyn. She’s the kind of woman you’d want by your side when life goes sideways, because you know she’s gonna fight the battle with you. She’s tenacious and vulnerable all at the same time. It’s fucking sexy.

But I don’t say any of those things.

I nod and tell her bye before heading out the door.