Authors: Jules Barnard
In short: calm, sophisticated Jeb freaked the hell out.
I followed up with the police on the investigation into the storage room attack with my parents by my side, and hired an investigator and legal support with Jeb’s help.
It’s very strange having a father. Or realizing I had one all these years and never knew it.
Jeb offers me some of his appetizer and I shake my head. “So now we wait? You think there will be a trial?”
“After all the evidence is collected, yes. It could get ugly when it comes to the casino’s complicity.”
Our burgers arrive and Jeb passes the ketchup. He ordered the Beacon Burger, a calamari appetizer, and a salad. I’ve learned in the few weeks we’ve kept in touch via Skype and the handful of times he’s visited since the race—he says, to spend quality time with me—that I come by my large appetite honestly. It runs in Jeb’s side of the family. He’s super fit for a guy his age so I’m hoping I continue to take after him in the metabolism department.
I set my burger down, my throat suddenly dry. “So I’ll have to stand up in court and tell everyone what happened.”
He nods, worry lines around his eyes.
“Okay, then. I’ll do it.”
I don’t want to do it, but I will. How many women did Drake intimidate—
touch—
before me? The lump of meat I swallowed sits like a rock in my stomach. I was lucky, but others won’t be.
Jeb slowly sets down his iced tea. “I can’t take credit for the wonderful woman you’ve grown to be, but I understand how much courage it takes to fight this and I’m proud of you.”
He had more to do with my upbringing than he acknowledges. More than I ever knew, and that’s something I’ve come to realize throughout all this. Jeb didn’t wipe my snotty nose when I was a kid, but he made sure my mother and I had food and a roof over our heads. My mom never had to worry about money. She had someone to go to if she needed support.
Jeb polishes off the first half of his burger and makes quick work of the second. He wipes his fingers on the cloth napkin. “So have you thought about my offer?”
I sip my water and consider a response. When Jeb discovered I planned to find another job to pay for graduate school, he offered to cover the costs so I wouldn’t have to work.
“I’m not sure. I appreciate how you’ve provided for Mom and me all these years. Mom actually had it pretty easy, when I think about it.”
He shrugs. “She put up with a lot when I left. She could have had an entirely different life if it weren’t for my carelessness.” I’m not convinced Jeb is entirely to blame. I know my mother, and conception is a two-way street. “It was my duty to take care of her, and you’re my daughter. There was no question I’d provide for you.”
Jeb waves me off when I pull out my wallet to pay. He hands the waitress his credit card. “Your mom is married to Fred now and he’s a good guy. He’s also a very wealthy man. I’d like her to keep the house I bought her, but we’ve spoken about it, and I’ll no longer provide what I considered a form of alimony, though we were never married. You, on the other hand, are an entirely different situation. You’re my daughter and I will support you until you get on your feet—pay for graduate school, help you get into a house. Simone and I are comfortable enough that we can do this for all our children.”
He’s probably doing what he considers his responsibility, but … “That was never what was important to me. I wanted a father.”
He lets out a slow breath. “I understand, and it’s what I want too. I’ve wanted that for a long while. I hope you realize things will be different now.”
Jeb has visited often since the truth came out, so yes, I noticed.
“I wish I could change the past,” he says. “Your mother and I made mistakes and all I can say is that I’m here for you from here on out. It may be difficult to believe, but you were always on my mind, always my daughter, even if you didn’t know I was your father.”
The only reason I wanted to pay for graduate school was because I thought my mom prostituted herself to her boyfriends for us. Kind of an insane theory, now that I think on it, but what was I supposed to believe? Given the evidence and the way she hid my father from me, extreme theories were in order.
I managed to save a small amount working at the casino, but not enough. The grand I won in the mudder I donated to the Washoe Foster Care Program. Lewis dropped out of the race to help me and it’s what he would have done with the money. I owed him, even if he didn’t think so.
“Helping with school expenses would be great. Thank you, Jeb. But I plan to find a job to pay for my living expenses. I’m an adult and it’s my responsibility.”
“Whatever you like, but there will be a trust in your name after you graduate.”
“Jeb.”
“It’s what Simone and I are doing for our other daughter—whom we’d like you to meet at your earliest convenience. She’s three and has a bit of a temper, that one.”
I smile. When I first heard I had a half-sibling, I was angry that my father had moved on without me. Now all I feel is gratitude. I’ve always wanted a sister.
We finish our meal and Jeb walks me to my car. He hugs me good-bye. It’s a little awkward, but I’m getting used to his strong dad hugs. He kisses the top of my head. “See you in a couple of weeks.”
Jeb’s retired and says these trips are no big deal. Simone has visited as well. It’s a strange new world.
He stops on his way to his car and turns around. “Hey, what do you think of getting in a round of golf next time?”
Obviously, Mom mentioned we golf together. “Sure, only—don’t take this the wrong way, but what’s your handicap?”
“Three. You?”
I sigh in relief. I love my mom, but golfing with her is torture. It’s mildly better now that I have Fred to commiserate with. “Five.”
His head tips to the side as if considering. “You know, with your athletic abilities, you could—”
“Dad, psychology grad school, remember?”
He breaks into a slow smile and I realize what I said.
I called him Dad.
All these years without one and in a matter of weeks, not only do I have someone I can point to as the source of my paternal genes, but he actually feels like a dad. Wild.
“I won’t push pro sports, but I may sign us up for a father-daughter golf tournament sometime, so polish your clubs. I could use a good player on my side.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
The chalet appears so peaceful from the outside, aside from the parking lot of cars in the driveway. The front door catches on Tyler’s giant duffel and I force it open, shoving several times until the bag moves out of my way. Jaeger, Cali, and Lewis sit on the couch, Tyler in the recliner, all four shouting at the television. Popcorn kernels litter the floor. Empty beer cans teeter in a pyramid beside the couch.
What is this, a man cave? What happened to our girls’ den?
Lewis finally looks up and smiles. I walk over and sit on his lap. There’s no other place besides the floor and he doesn’t seem to mind the easy access as he slides his hand up my leg. He hugs me close.
My major epiphany since the mudder was that I didn’t actually need to master the race to gain confidence. I simply needed to face my fears. My biggest challenge: letting Lewis in.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“We’re watching Australian rules football,” he says.
“Mark!” Tyler shouts.
“He fumbled it!” Cali counters. The guys jeer and yell at the screen.
Apparently, a mark is when the ball is caught in midair. The game itself seems to be a combination of soccer and American football.
I cuddle Lewis’s jaw. “This sport is crazy.”
“Isn’t it great?” he says, completely serious.
I shake my head and look at Cali. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No idea. I just say the opposite of what they do and it gets them riled up.” She jams a fistful of popcorn in her mouth, and I realize she’s not even looking at the television. She’s goading the guys and that’s her entertainment.
I love this girl.
Lewis’s pocket vibrates, zinging my ass.
“Gahh.”
“Sorry.” He lifts me with one arm and reaches for his phone, settling me back on his lap. “What’s up, Dad?” Lewis’s body jerks at a tackle on the screen before he stills and looks down. “Where did Mira go? Which place?” He pauses, then, “Shit.”
After the family intervention with his parents, Mira agreed to visit a counselor. She’s been going three times a week and making progress. She no longer scowls at me in group settings and seems to be gaining ground on working through her problems.
Lewis gently lifts me and stands, exchanging a few more words with his father before pocketing his phone and staring out the window.
I walk over and touch his arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Tyler lowers the volume on the television, his gaze trained on Lewis, body on the edge of his seat. He seems especially uptight at overhearing Lewis’s conversation. Cali and Jaeger look over as well.
Lewis turns to me. “Mira’s missing.”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed reading Gen and Lewis’s story in
Blue Crush.
Please consider leaving a review at the site where you purchased it, or on
GoodReads
.
Cali and Jaeger’s story,
Deep Blue
,
the first in the Blue Series, is available now on all major outlets.
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- to be notified by email when
True Blue
, the story of Mira and Tyler, and other Jules Barnard new releases come out.
The Washoe (Wa She Shu) are a Native American Tahoe Basin tribe living in California and Nevada. I used creative license in reference to a few of their cultural and mythological beliefs depicted in
Blue Crush
, most notably, during the Cave Rock swimming scene. Lewis tells a story about a giant man-eating bird called Ong who attacked anyone that trespassed on Cave Rock. Actual legend dictates Ong nested in the middle of the lake, preying on villagers until a clever Washoe destroyed him. I left Ong’s existence open-ended and linked it to Cave Rock for the purposes of the story.
Cave Rock is in fact a sacred site to the Washoe, where healers, thought to possess special powers to cure the mind and body and believed to be conduits to the supernatural world, brought offerings for spiritual renewal. In the story, Lewis tells Gen that the Heavenly ski mountain was the location of water babies, but actual Washoe legend indicates water babies were sought at water sites like Cave Rock.
Any errors regarding the Washoe are mine alone and created for fictional purposes. To learn more about the Washoe tribe, visit:
https://www.washoetribe.us/contents/.
As always, I’d like to thank my husband and children for putting up with me when I’m in the writing zone and for loving me anyway. A big thank-you to my critique partner and beta readers—Lia Riley, Jennifer Blackwood, and Marlene Relja—whose support is immeasurable.
The polish of
Blue Crush
would not be possible without an incredible team of experts. A special thank-you to my agent Laura Bradford for pointing out when my characters ran amuck in
Blue Crush
. I’d also like to thank Martha Trachtenberg and Shelley Bates for editorial, and Marina Anderson of Polgarus Studio for formatting. I feel fortunate to work with the talented Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations on cover design. Thank you, Sarah, for producing another amazing cover in the Blue Series.
A collective shout-out to the Rogue ladies, members of the Silicon Valley and Monterey Bay RWA groups, and all my friends and family who continually support my writing.
Jules Barnard is originally from the San Francisco Bay Area. She attended UC Davis, whose college landscape often finds its way into her New Adult novels. She has a Master’s degree and spent many an hour running statistical analysis, until she realized her favorite part of the job was writing reports. She decided to cut out the math and add in some hot guys, and so began her career as a novelist.
Jules is a Northern California native living on the coast with her husband and two children. She has no impulse control around cupcakes and credits herself with the ability to read while running on the treadmill or burning dinner.