My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

There’s a pink satin bendy thing in my bathroom.

I pick it up and go into the game room, where the girls are in a game of air hockey. “Time out,” I say, holding it up. “What is this thing?”

The girls keep playing until Lacy glances my way and Macy uses that moment of weakness to her advantage and sends the puck into the goal.

“Yesssss,” Macy hisses, arms wide in victory. “I win!”

Lacy looks at it. “Hair wrap. For curls.”

I chuck it at her. “Why are you curling your hair in my bathroom? In fact, there’s a lot of crap in my bathroom. What the hell happened?”

“You have the best light, Uncle J.,” Lacy says. “We did a get-ready-with-me video in there.”

Macy gives me a searching look. “So, forget your bathroom. We’re wondering what’s going on between you and Jane? Are you going to ask her out for a real date?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, why not?” they say in unison.

My phone buzzes on the nearby table. I glance at the caller ID, and it’s Andrew.

“That’s Jane’s brother on the line. Gonna take it?” Lacy’s nosy, like she’s tuned in to some drama channel.

I grab the phone, feeling that jolt in my chest. “Yo, Andrew. What’s the deal?”

Yeah, I called him this morning to check in on Jane. My pride stings that she pushed me away, but I get it. Yes, she arranged a date between Freida and me, but in the end, I canceled it on the app.

The twins are eyeballing me, picking up on the tension as I step aside with the phone glued to my ear.

“Jane’s out with Tomas tonight.” Andrew cuts straight to it, knowing I wanted the heads-up if he showed his face again.

I stiffen, playing it cool. “Oh, yeah? Where they at?”

He hesitates. “You’re digging for dirt on Jane? Since when?”

I rake a hand through my hair, cornered. “Not dirt. Just worries. She’s been all twisted up about this Tomas crap since he showed up at her place.”

Andrew laughs, not buying it. “And you’re what? Her hero?”

I shoot a look at the twins, who are still listening. “It’s not black and white.”

“Jane’s tough. She’s got this,” he says like it’s that simple.

I exhale, annoyed. “Sure, she’s tough. It just bugs me, thinking she’s stressing over him.”

Andrew goes quiet then. “Just tread lightly, man. Jane’s had her share of rough waters. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but she’s my sister, and if you hurt her, I’ll be pissed.”

“We’re friends,” I say, downplaying the real deal going on between us.

I want her. She doesn’t want me.

“Fine. She’s at Leo’s with Tomas.”

I tell him goodbye and hang up, facing the twins’ curious stares.

“All good, Uncle J.?” Lacy’s got that look, all eyes and ears.

“Yeah, all good,” I lie, plastering on a grin. Inside, it’s a whole different story. My chest twinges, and I know exactly what it is. Jealousy. Which is dumb. The dude is getting married, but still, right now, he’s with Jane.

A few minutes later, the doorbell cuts through the silence, and I swing it open to Rayna. Tan, a bit windswept, and wearing one of those easy smiles that says she’s been doing more relaxing than worrying lately. Makes me think that’s what moms like her need—breaks, not just a day here and there.

Like Jane. I’m starting to get why she’s often got a scowl on her face. Between her job, Londyn, and dealing with Tomas, she’s got a lot on her plate.

Rayna steps in, and her smile kicks up a notch, lighting up the place. Man, I love her.

“Jasper!” she says, throwing her arms out. We crash into a hug, her laughter ringing in my ears. “I missed you, little bro!”

Her energy’s infectious, always has been. It’s good to have her back.

“Missed you too,” I chuckle as I pat her on the back. The twins crash into us, turning it into a noisy, squirming group hug.

As we break apart, Rayna’s all lit up as she shares stories. “Italy and France were insane! The food, the sights! We did the whole gondola thing in Venice. And Paris? I ate so many croissants.” She rummages through her bag and pulls out a key chain with a tiny Colosseum on it. “Figured I owed you for keeping an eye on the munchkins.”

I scoff as I inspect the key chain. “Feels like I’m getting the raw end of the deal here.”

She grins. “I’m so happy to be back! But spill, how were the twins? Give me the dirt.”

I shoot a look at the girls, who suddenly seem very interested in their shoes. “Well, ‘lively’ would be putting it mildly,” I say, trying to keep it light. No need for Rayna to start worrying the second she’s back.

She shakes her head. “‘Lively,’ huh? I’ll squeeze the truth out of them later.”

After hearing a few more stories about her trip, the girls zip off to continue their hockey match while Rayna and I settle in the den.

“Actually, there’s something we gotta talk about,” I tell Rayna as she gets cozy in an armchair.

She raises a brow. “Woman troubles?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Nah, it’s about my birth mom. She showed up, and we had coffee.”

Rayna looks genuinely shocked. “After all this time? That’s heavy. How are you dealing?”

I give a halfhearted shrug. “I’m all over the place. Angry, confused, you name it.”

Worry flits over her pretty features. “It’s a lot to process.”

“She’s got a new family now. They live in Philly.”

Rayna gets up and paces around the den. Being upset on my behalf is pretty much a given with my four sisters. They’ve always been super protective of me since I was a little kid and they were teenagers.

She’s the closest in age to me, with only ten years between us. She attended the same K–12 private school with me in Millwood, a neighborhood outside Salt Lake City. We rode the bus together, and even though she had friends to sit with, she always sat next to me like my protector.

Once on the playground, when I was in first grade, an older kid thought it’d be hilarious to use my backpack as a soccer ball. Rayna marched into the fray, her eyes blazing with that don’t-mess-with-my-family fire. She liked to use her razor-sharp tongue, and she didn’t mind using her fists either. Messing with me meant an encounter with her.

Then there was my struggle in school. Math was my nemesis, and Rayna, bless her, would sit down with me at the kitchen table when she was in community college, night after night, breaking down problems into something I could actually understand. She had the patience of a saint, no matter how many times she had to explain what x stood for.

She huffs. “The nerve of her. I mean, how did she explain never calling or writing?”

“Exactly,” I say, the bitterness seeping through. “She moved on, and now she’s back, acting like we can just pick up where we left off.”

She pokes me, trying to lighten the mood. “Look at you, though. I bet the twins kept you busy, didn’t they?”

“Ah, you know I’ll never tell on them.”

“So they were awful. I knew it. One on one, they’re okay, but together . . .”

I laugh. “Nah. I enjoyed them.”

“But Sunflower . . .” She puts her hands on her hips, her eyes steely. “I’m worried about you seeing her. Are you sure it’s okay?”

I exhale. “It messes with my head, you know? Especially with the season coming up.”

“I’m sorry, Jasper.”

I clasp my hands together, clarity hitting me. “It’s weird, but I’ve got this fear that I’m just like her. I don’t necessarily bail, but I tend to disappear into a shell when things get tough. Maybe I do that because she dumped me.”

Rayna watches me. “You don’t bail. Look at how you’ve stuck with football. Look at all the friendships you’ve made over the years on the team.”

I sigh.

Still.

I may be my own worst enemy when it comes to holding on to women. My college girlfriend, Amanda, is an example. We could have had something real, but at the first sign of trouble, when she wanted to talk, I retreated and became passive. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her—no, it was the opposite. I cared too much and that terrified me.

It’s like there’s this voice in the back of my mind, whispering that everyone I love will eventually leave. So I leave first. Not with a dramatic exit, but by fading away so that they have no choice but to move on.

It’s a defense mechanism. I rub my jaw.

Amanda deserved better. They all did. Each woman I let slip away because I couldn’t commit to climbing over the walls I’ve built around my heart.

I glance at Rayna. She thinks she knows me, but deep down, I’m wrestling with this fear of turning into Rae-Anne.

Later, the girls and Rayna order a pizza for dinner, and I slump into the nearest chair, my thoughts drifting back to Jane. With Tomas shaking up her world and my own life turned upside down by my mom, our situations feel similar, and if I’m struggling this much, Jane’s situation must be even more daunting.

Maybe she’s got a point pushing me back.

Could be I’m not cut out for the deep end.

Not the type to plant roots. Because of my mom.

But then, every time Jane pops into my head, there’s this buzz.

A vibe that’s got nothing to do with sex.

It’s all her.

The way she is.

That scowl that means business.

I’ve been with plenty of women, but she’s a whole different league.

She’s different.

Feeling an urge to move, to try and make sense of my thoughts, I stand. A walk might do me some good. I grab a hat and head out, wondering if I’m making a mistake by letting Jane keep me in the friend zone.

Yet fear nags at me, whispering that perhaps it’s wiser to step back now, before I risk causing hurt to her and Londyn.

I find myself walking to Leo’s, my feet moving of their own accord. I know I’m crossing a line, but something in me needs to see her.

I shouldn’t.

Every logical bone in my body screams to turn back, to stay out of it. But then there’s that gnawing feeling, hating the thought of her dealing with Tomas alone.

The night’s alive with people as I near Leo’s. I halt outside, my hands clenching.

Am I about to crash her dinner? It feels wrong, yet I’m drawn to her like a magnet.

I push through the door and make a beeline for the bar. My eyes sweep the place, hunting for Jane.

And there she is at a corner table, facing Tomas. Even from this distance, I can spot the tension in her posture. I move toward them, then freeze. What’s my game plan? I’ve no right to invade her space, no matter how much my gut tells me to pull her out of there.

If she looks over at me, if she seems like she’s in distress, then I’ll go to her.

I order a whiskey, but my stomach is too weird to drink it. I toy with it as I watch them.

She never takes her eyes off Tomas. It’s as if they’re having a silent war between them.

Dammit. I need to go. She doesn’t need me. I lay out cash on the bar and bail, the city lights a blur as I try to shake off this feeling of uncertainty when it comes to her.