Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (18 page)

"We lucked out. There was a note in her social services file . . . referencing a location commonly frequented by addicts. Luz had been picked up there several times." For her reckless behavior, she'd spent only months behind bars . . . before she'd been released due to overcrowding. Worse for Marisol was the judge's ruling that Luz's problems be deemed mental health related. Instead of child abuse or abandonment. Or the criminal sale of a precious baby boy for drugs. That meant Luz hadn't lost her parental rights. She'd merely lost custody.

"So— it was a miracle." Jeff's eyes had grown bleak. She recognized he held on to his temper by a thread.

Released from jail, Luz had disappeared. Which had thrown a wrench into Marisol's desire to adopt him. The courts didn't seem to know how to react when the mother flitted in and out of her child's life. Each time she resurfaced, Luz reset the clock. Hector's future was perpetually in limbo. Since then, her visits had been sporadic and always supervised. But Mari had never made the mistake of thinking Luz wasn't dangerous. Over the past eighteen months, she'd prepared. After registering with DSS, she'd completed her home study with the social worker assigned to Hector and she'd petitioned the court for permanency. She'd waited. And prayed.

"What has to happen before Hector never has to see her again?" Jeff's eyes sparked with determination.

"One of two things. Either DSS finally terminates her parental rights . . . which should have happened when Luz tried to sell Hector-"

Wincing, Jeff cursed under his breath, making her smile, despite her simmering frustration. "That's what my court date in September is about. The court finally heard DSS' petition a few months back. That's when they gave it six more months."

"What's taking so long?"

She shrugged, helpless. "Backlog. Juvenile court typically runs six months behind."

"Damn it— what's the other way?"

"Luz has to voluntarily release Hector for adoption. It's called a Release and Entrustment Consent."

"What sort of hell do we live in that she gets a choice?"

"The law says-"

"The law sucks, Mari."

As sick as she felt over the situation, Jeff's words eased the ache in her heart. Marisol almost felt like smiling. She loved how Jeff loved Hector— how he protected him. She loved how he was so not afraid to show it. He'd embraced her son, taken him into his world without hesitation. She thought of all the hours he'd spent with him . . . coaching him about baseball . . . teaching him about construction. Showing Hector how to be a man— a kind, considerate, thoughtful man. All the hours they'd spent together— as a family. Laughing and talking about everything . . . and nothing.  

She loved him. She loved Jeff.

Unaware of her epiphany, Jeff’s eyes burned with frustration. "There has to be a way to end this."

"Eventually, when enough time elapses with no word from the mother, the court makes a decision." Clearly, there were still flaws. While deciding for the parent had positive attributes, the reality was it often left defenseless children in dangerous situations. "I believe in second chances . . ." She hesitated. "But those chances should involve rules and training and supervision."

"No shit."

His disgruntled comment made her lips twitch. How could he make her smile when everything was falling apart? The system
could
work, but when the law was decimated by budget cuts and understaffing— it left gaping cracks that exposed children to abuse from parents who had already proven themselves seriously lacking in judgment.

"We've filed the papers, but if she sporadically shows up. . ." She sniffed in an effort to force back an onslaught of tears. "The adoption could be delayed."  

"Let me guess— she doesn't want him . . . but she doesn't want you to have him either."

Suddenly, it was all too much. The uncertainty over Hector. The fear that Luz could find a loophole. The uncomfortable discovery that she was seriously, hopelessly in love with the man standing before her. Tears spilling down her cheeks, she nodded.

***

Jeff gathered her in his arms. As Marisol wept against his shoulder, he tried to sort his jumbled thoughts. For about five minutes, everything in his life had started making sense. After lunch with his mother, he'd experienced a new sense of clarity. With a fresh understanding of his parents' marriage— he'd begun examining it through the adult eyes. And the view through twenty-nine year old eyes was suddenly far different from the view he'd had at seventeen. He'd just never allowed himself to think about it.

He'd been uncomfortably aware that his actions— some of them, anyway— may have been colored by a perspective that was no longer accurate. While part of him loved being able to do any damn thing he wanted, whenever he wanted— there was another part he'd only recently become attuned to. A part of him that maybe . . . wanted something more. Something substantial.
Someone
who mattered.

As far as freedom went, he'd never been completely free in the truest sense. In the get-on-his-Harley-and-ride-off-into-the-sunset way. He had obligations. Tons of them. He had a large family he loved. He shared ownership of Specialty. He had friends. A job that rarely allowed him the freedom he'd experienced after college. And Jeff wouldn't change
any
of it.

So, the question now was why. With all the important commitments in his life— why couldn't he also have
someone
who mattered?

His parents' marriage had ended after years of inattention from his father. His seventeen year old self hadn't recognized that. He'd been too self-absorbed and far too immature to read the subtle vibes of a marriage slowly dying from neglect. Jeff’s takeaway from the divorce had been simply that marriages failed. Randomly. That loving someone was dangerous— and could only end in disaster. Pain. Agony.

After talking with his mother, Jeff left the lunch date with a new awareness. A
hyper
awareness. That he wasn't bound by limitations, even those he’d self-imposed. Maybe— he would discover he wasn't cut out for a relationship with anyone. It was entirely possible he didn't have what it took. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see he liked doing things his way. But— what the hell? Everyone was like that. It didn’t mean he wasn’t
capable
of sharing his life with someone. Since he’d never allowed himself to think that way— how could he know for sure?

He'd driven back to the shelter with something he could only define as impatience. To see Marisol. For the first time, Jeff embraced the eagerness without questioning the hell out of it. Without wondering if they'd still be together a month from now. He wanted to see her— with fresh eyes.

Instead, he'd found her— pale and terrified. And all his hypothetical what-ifs had flown out the window. In that moment, all Jeff wanted was to make it better. No matter what problem she faced. Imagining Hector losing Mari made his chest hurt. Seeing her break down offered another gut punch of powerlessness when he would have given anything to be able to fix it.

But witnessing fear in Mari's eyes . . . and being unable to shield her— made him feel violent. His need to protect her— to protect Hector— was stronger than any emotion Jeff had ever experienced. Tightening his hold on the beautiful, strong, fragile woman in his arms, he acknowledged he would do anything to help her— to keep her safe. And for the first time . . . maybe ever— that awareness didn't terrify him.

Perhaps he was capable of change after all.

***

"She’s really thin."

Sharon frowned at the television screen. "And jittery. I’d say it’s been three days. Maybe four. She’s probably hurtin’ for a fix."

"Why does she keep showing up?" Marisol sighed, her gaze never leaving the screen. "We need to double down on security. Has DSS authorized a visit? I don’t want her slipping out of here with him."

"Supervised visit. Probably sometime this week." Sharon nodded to the screen. "But I don’t think she can last that long without makin’ a score. If we’re lucky, she’ll show up high and we can deny the visit."

"What can we do about security?" Trying to control her worry, she sought Sharon's reassuring eyes.

"Already takin’ care of it, Sugar. I met with Hank this morning."

Sharon’s bracelets jangled against her arm, the familiar sound comforting. Mari wanted everything to be normal. She wanted certainty— that Hector was safe . . . that the adoption she'd planned for the past year would finally happen. She wanted to relax and enjoy him without the fear he could be taken away.

In spite of her worries, she wanted to explore her relationship with Jefferson— see where it would lead. She’d grown tired of questioning herself— of comparing him to Nick. She’d kept Jeff at arm’s length lately— sending mixed signals she knew were confusing. If she could sort out her fears— she might be able to resolve them. There was guilt— that she hadn't actually told him about her past. The more time passed, the more awkward that conversation would become.

What was she afraid of? Perhaps loving him was making her skittish. Because now wasn’t a great time to appear vulnerable. Yet, she knew Jeff cared about her. In a dozen little ways, he'd shown he was as capable of change as anyone.

Remembering the flowers sitting on her desk, she smiled. And the perfect, summer peach he’d delivered the day before. Jeff presented his gifts shyly— almost as though he’d surprised himself. Definitely unlike his usual, charming self. Mari could tell he wasn’t accustomed to offering thoughtful gestures, yet he was so very good at them.

Jeff was thoughtful. And kind. And so damn good with Hector it made her ache watching them together. Whatever was meant to happen between them would finish playing out. Ultimately, that meant her heart might end up broken. But before that happened, it might just be incredible. Because everything with Jeff felt good. Natural.

"How are the flashbacks, Mari? You need to talk with someone?" Sharon’s gaze was laser sharp.

Why had she mentioned it? When she
knew
it was stress. Until the shaky, scrawny, disturbed drug addict in the DSS video decided to move on, Marisol’s existence had become a nerve-wracking, sleepless, fearful holding pattern.

Still concentrating on Luz— the taped interview she’d had only days earlier with social services, Marisol shook her head. "Getting better. With Luz showing up, I was caught off guard. It's only been a few times . . . Jeff— when he surprised me."

"Does he know?" Sharon’s kind eyes expressed concern. "About Luz? Did you ever explain about Nick?’

Ignoring the guilt sliding through her, Mari nodded. "Yes to Luz; no to Nick."

"Marisol-"

Reluctantly, her gaze shifted to her friend. "It’s never seemed the right time. First— it was too new. I didn’t think Jeff would be sticking around, so I didn't discuss it with him. It's too personal to just dump on every man I meet."  

"And now? Jeff isn't 'every' man, right? Stud Muffin's got stayin' power. If you can't see that, Sugar— you're blind."

"Now— it’s hard to bring up. I still don’t know where we're going, Sharon." Chewing her lip, Mari’s gaze drifted back to the screen. "It's not wrong to keep something so . . . personal to myself when Jeff could leave as soon as the new wing is done."    

Sharon chuckled. "Now you’re a fortune-teller? You’re painting yourself into a corner, Mari. He could walk outta here tomorrow or you could still be with him twenty years from now."

She found a smile. "Sometime between now and then . . . I promise I’ll tell him."

***

"There's way too much drama in here today. I can't get anything done." Disgusted, Hank hung up the phone, throwing his pencil on the new set of changes they reviewed. "Everyone is runnin' around like crazy. I can't get answers to simple questions. What the hell will it take to get a little production around here?"

Jeff eyed him curiously. Distracted by the seemingly insurmountable problems facing Mari and Hector, he wondered what he'd missed. Production was going fine. The concrete was poured; the building shell was taking shape. With Linc finally back in the picture, he'd finessed the last of the color decisions out of the women so Jeff could place orders for all the finishes. The building was about the
only
thing in his life that was going smoothly.

"What's the problem?" Relieved to shelve his own worries, if only temporarily, Jeff was eager to latch onto a construction problem— any problem he could actually fix. "Is it Big Pete again? Has he ticked off the concrete guys, too? I know he's eccentric but-"

"Quit your babbling. I ain't talking about Pete." Hank scowled in his general direction. "I'm worried about Annie and her boys."

Understanding dawned. Evidently, Hank had made progress. "So, you've finally progressed to actual dates with her? And what'd it take you? Nine . . . ten weeks?" He lifted his hand in support. "High five."

Raising his gaze to the ceiling, Hank snorted. "You are the most unobservant person on the planet."

"What'd I miss this time?" Jeff would be the first to admit the last several days had been crazy. First— his epiphany about his parents— and how, over the last decade, he'd been conducting his life under basically false assumptions. Then the scare with Hector's mother— who thus far, hadn’t materialized. And now there was Marisol— acting nervous and distracted and definitely not herself. She'd become skittish around him. And that probably bothered him most of all.