And lastly, though firstly, at least in age and his own ego-inflated mind, was Damian. He was a year older than Lucas and at least twenty when it came to general pain-in-the-ass-ness. Damian was Afro-Latino and, once again, “ish” like the rest of them, with a sketchy, not quite fully put together past, and the self-proclaimed leader of their little motley crew of misfits. As if anyone was fighting him for the position. Nope, not at all. Damian could have it.
As he drank Kerry’s coffee, Jesse’s mind continued to wander back in time, for the most part to when they were first brought to Mama Joy. After the shock of being in a new place, with a single mother and a yarn shop, he remembered the relief of being out of the group home and cautious joy over not being in yet another foster home where the kids were treated like little more than a potential source of income. He remembered the mistrust and weariness on his brothers’ faces and how long it took for those looks to go away. How long it took them all to stop with the territorial jockeying for positions and turn into the brothers they were today. That took years. Years of arguing, screaming, yelling, punishments, but also love and patience. And he—no, they—owed all that to Mama Joy. They were unruly messes, each of them, but somehow Mama Joy, already at what some would consider past her prime in age, was able to whip them into shape and turn them into so much more than the system ever expected them to be.
He would always consider when Mama Joy agreed to take them on and adopted them as her own the best day of his life. The boys no one wanted had found a forever home with a single woman who ran her own yarn and knitting shop. Sure, most everyone told her she was half-crazy, but the way Jesse figured it, it was that wonderful crazy half that was just what she needed to keep the four of them in line.
Jesse felt something in his chest tighten as he watched Kerry bring the cup away from her lips once again. Her round brown eyes were soft and full of an understanding that made him feel like she’d been reading his thoughts, and he was suddenly more naked and vulnerable than his stupid underwear made him out to be. He cleared his throat. “You’re right,” he said. “I think I’d better go and get dressed. Before you know it, Damian will be here barking orders and trying to run things, so I need to be ready.”
Kerry just nodded, which somehow made him feel worse. More than anything, in that moment, Jesse wanted her to give him some of her usual dismissive admonishment. What he needed today was a Kerry-sized kick in the ass, not her sympathy. “You go and do that,” she said softly, and he caught a small hitch in her voice. “I, uh—” She turned and pointed to the back table, which, he noticed for the first time, on top of being packed with the leftovers from yesterday, also now held two large shopping bags. “I’ll sort out this food. I don’t know if you heard, but Mrs. Hamilton was here this morning and she dropped off more. I’ll pull it out, and if you want me to, I can bring some up and put it in the fridge upstairs.”
Jesse frowned. “I don’t know where. The house fridge is full of leftovers from the repast too. That’s why this other stuff is still out down here. We can try and stuff it or split it between all of us when the guys get here. Maybe Lucas can just take it to the firehouse. He’s there most of the time anyway.”
Kerry nodded again. “That’s a good idea. I’ll start dividing it up. But I’m afraid we’ll need more containers. Mrs. Hamilton was probably only the beginning. You can expect plenty more where this came from. Knowing the neighborhood ladies, they will want to keep you well fed.” She gave his chest and bare stomach a look then that was deep and penetrating and had his abs quivering on their own. “Besides, Mama Joy wouldn’t want you losing weight.”
Jesse shook his head and groaned. “No, she wouldn’t.” He sighed and looked again at all the food. “Mama Joy was definitely loved.”
“That she was.” Her voice cracked again.
Oh hell. Why did he go and say that? Jesse looked down and caught the tears that had sprung to Kerry’s eyes.
Shit. “I’m sorry, Ker—” he started, going to reach for her.
But she put her hand up, halting his words before they could continue out of his mouth. “No. Don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be here as a help to you and your brothers. Not blubbering like some fool and adding to your troubles.” She quickly swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, pushing up her glasses and looking so darned cute and vulnerable. The image reminded him of catching her crying in the loft of the shop so many years ago, way back when they were in junior high.
“You’re not a fool.” He lowered his voice. “And you’re never trouble. You’re family, Kerry. And you loved Mama Joy just as much as any of us. Just as much as she loved you.”
There was a loud hiccup sound as her tears came on full force. “Well, damn, Jes. You went and did it now,” she said, putting down her mug and reaching for a paper towel.
As if on autopilot, Jesse stepped forward and took her into his arms. Her shoulders and back were awkward and rigid, but within seconds she softened, and he felt the delicate quaking of her muscles against his body as she sucked in uneven breaths between sobs. He held her there. Taking in the warmth of her softly twisted braids against his bare arms. Soothed by the light smell of lavender and musk as her twists tickled his nose as she heaved and let her sorrow out. Jesse swallowed down hard, blinking back his own tears as he fought to calm his hard-pounding heart.
He would not cry today. Jesse reminded himself of his vow once again. He had told himself yesterday that he’d shed enough tears and he was done. Mama Joy would want it that way. She wasn’t one to go in for a lot of sorrow. She’d have told him to have his moment and then move on. To think of her from now on with only joy and happiness in his heart. And that is what he would do. Once he got his damned mush of a heart in line to listen.
But then a damned lump formed in Jesse’s throat, and it completely pissed him off. He didn’t have a right to have a lump. He didn’t have a right to any more tears or wasted time. He’d done his crying and carrying on at the funeral yesterday, and that was enough. It was clear as day from the looks and comments from his brothers this past week and from all the neighborhood friends and acquaintances who had shown up: He was a fuckup, and as per his usual he’d fucked up and was a disappointment to Mama Joy right till the very end. Not even being there when she’d needed him at that critical moment. Wasting time and not living up to his potential, whatever that was. How could he continue to disappoint her now that she was gone?
Sure, it was a pattern for him, but it was one that he was now determined to break.
Mama Joy was the only one who’d ever seen potential in him, and she’d indulged him from the very beginning. Doing what she called “cultivating his creative spirit,” all the while working herself into an early grave. Truth was, he was nothing more than a selfish bastard, taking what he could and never giving back in return. Not even when she clearly needed him to help more around the shop and relieve her of some of her heavy burden.