Jagged

“So did a million other Americans,” he returned.

“And I… a few days ago, a man came to me, asking about you,” she went on and I felt Ham tense at my back even as my body strung tight.

Dad’s investigator.

“I thought you should know. I was worried and”—she shook her head—“I thought you should know.”

“How’d you find me?” Ham asked what I thought was a very pertinent question, one of many, seeing as Ham grew up in Nebraska and he hadn’t said it, but since they married young, my guess was that she was there, too.

“I have, well”—she hesitated—“my husband has a friend. He’s a police officer. He… I’m sorry if you find this intrusive but he looked you up for me.”

“And he couldn’t look up my phone number?” Ham clipped and he was being kind of funny but it was far from amusing.

Her eyes went to me, then Ham again, and she said quietly, “You were injured by a serial killer, Reece. I’ve obviously upset you but after that… after that man visited, I wanted to see if you were all right. Not hear it. See it.” Her eyes finally came to me and she whispered, “I’m sorry. It was—”

Ham interrupted her again, “What’d you tell this guy?”

Her gaze shot back to him. “Sorry?”

“What’d you tell the PI who came callin’?” Ham clarified.

“Well… the truth,” she told him.

“There’s your truth and my truth, Rachel, and back in the day, those two didn’t sync,” Ham returned.

She held Ham’s eyes and requested softly, “Can I not do this out in the breezeway?”

Ham hesitated a second before he moved. Curling an arm tight around my shoulders, he tucked me deep into his side and backed us up three steps.

It wasn’t much and wasn’t intended to be much. She had just enough space to move into the apartment and close the door. That was all he was giving her.

I didn’t want to be there, now for a variety of reasons. But Ham had clamped me so tight to his side, I couldn’t move and I didn’t want to because of what that might say to her.

But also, someone kill me, because Ham obviously wanted me right where I was, and because I loved him, I couldn’t move.

“Now you aren’t in the breezeway, woman. So what’d you tell the PI?” he prompted.

She straightened her shoulders, ignored me, and stated, “Like I said, I told him the truth.”

“Rach—” Ham began but she kept talking.

“I said you were a good man, a good husband. We were young but you still gave me a decent home and that was because you worked hard. I told him that you wanted a family. You were ready for it. You were prepared for it, and you would have made an excellent father. But I was too young, I didn’t… I didn’t…” She faltered, probably because the extreme hostility rolling off Ham was hard to miss and all of it was aimed at her, then she rallied. “I didn’t know what I wanted. I screwed up, our marriage went bad, you worked to save it, but I was too young and I… I… screwed it up.” She pulled in a deep breath and finished. “That’s what I told him, Reece.”

I felt Ham’s body relax and some of my tension flowed away when it did.

When Ham made no reply, she continued.

“Obviously, I didn’t want to tell him anything but he was determined. So I asked him what this was about. He wasn’t forthcoming but he did say the custody of a young boy was at stake.”

Finally, her eyes slid to me, then around the apartment for the first time, maybe looking for clues a child lived with us, maybe just curious.

She did this quickly before looking back to Ham.

“He claimed it wasn’t your boy,” she told him.

“He isn’t,” Ham confirmed.

She nodded, looked swiftly to me again, failing at hiding her curiosity, then back to Ham before she said quietly, “Still, whoever it is, I told him what kind of man you were and made sure he knew you’d do right by the boy and he wouldn’t find any help from me if he was trying to keep you away.”

“So am I supposed to say thanks?” Ham asked sarcastically and that was when I decided to jump in.

“Rachel, I’m Zara,” I stated belatedly, feeling awkward, but then again, I hadn’t yet been given the opportunity to mind my manners and Ham certainly had no intention of minding his.

At my butting in, Ham’s arm got tighter around me. A warning, but I ignored it.

“It’s my nephew this is all about,” I shared. “I’m uncertain he’s being raised in a healthy environment and I’ve decided to do something about it.”

Rachel nodded.

I continued. “It means a lot to me to get him safe, so I appreciate you being honest about Ham.”

“Ham?” she asked.

“Reece,” I clarified.

She nodded again, her eyes drifting up to Ham and it was then we both discovered that Ham was done with this unexpected visit and he was going to do something about it.

“So now that you came well out of your way to share your benevolence, we got shit to do,” he declared. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee but I think you get why I’m not gonna do that.”

“I live in Fort Collins now, Reece,” she shared.

“Congratulations,” Ham replied.

“Ham,” I whispered, curling into him and looking up at him.

His stubbled jaw was hard and a muscle was ticking there.

I stared at that muscle jumping in his jaw.

Twenty years and she had the power to move him to this kind of emotion.

Twenty years.

This meant he wasn’t over her, either. Twenty years was a long time. Yes, she did him wrong in a very, very bad way. But he had not moved on. He might have reflected years after she’d broken him, after he’d had an ax in his shoulder, and made the decision to try to move on.

But he hadn’t moved on.

More not good in a situation between us that was already really not good.

“Seein’ as you’re standin’ in front of the door and you know how to use it, I suggest you do that,” Ham invited.

I looked to her to see she looked even sadder, she was pale and this was already hard on her but Ham was making it infinitely harder.

She didn’t delay in nodding again and stepping to the door.

With effort, I pulled free of Ham and followed her. I put my hand on the door once she was through it and called her name.

She hesitated before cautiously turning back.

“I know your history,” I told her quietly. “And I hope you understand Ham’s reaction to your visit. But I thank you for being honest with the investigator. In the end, it will help Zander, and that’s what’s important.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

“Thank you for coming all this way.”

She nodded, glanced beyond me, then turned and walked away.

I closed the door and found the living room empty so I moved to the kitchen.

Ham was pouring coffee in a travel mug.

He must have felt my presence in the doorway because he announced, “Don’t wanna talk about that shit.” He screwed the lid on the mug and turned to me. “Now I’m goin’ for a run. You’re here when I get back, you’re here. You aren’t, you aren’t. Suit yourself.”

Then he prowled to me and I had to jump out of the way or be bowled over.

But I followed him, asking stupidly, “You’re running with a travel mug of coffee?”

Ham’s answer was to walk through then slam the front door.

When I had aloneness and silence, both for the first time in a long time, suddenly, exhaustion overwhelmed me.