JAKE (Leaves of a Maple Book 2)

  JAKE

  a Leaves of a Maple novel

  by Haley Jenner

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright 2017 Haley Jenner. All rights reserved.

  Published by Haley Jenner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: ellie at Love N. Books

  Photo: Shutterstock

  Editor: ellie at Love N. Books

  Collaborator: ellie at Love N. Books

  This book is intended for those 18 years and older. It contains content of an adult nature.

  DEDICATION

  For those of us who have felt lost. You’re stronger than you think. We believe that and we hope you find it in yourself to believe it too.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ellie, we’re writing this in the future, for you to read in the past. Wait… What?! We’re back to front and upside down… Yet, you get us. Once again, our thanks couldn’t come close to what we owe you in gratitude for all you do for us. This book has you in it. One hundred percent. When we panicked, you rallied. Seriously, we fucking love you. Haley E. Jenner for life!

  Thanks for loving us even though H is a stage five clinger and it’s not yet proven that J actually exists. Thank the world for pierced dicks and editors who love the word fuck as much as we do. You fucking killed it with Jake’s cover. Holy. Fucking. Shit. We still can’t stop staring at it. Taking you at your word, expectation is that it’s inked into your skin when we see you in 2018.

  To everyone that read Archer, thank you for giving us the support and confidence to keep going. It means the world to us both and we can’t thank you enough with the words on a page, so know, from the very depths of our heart(s), it means everything.

  Samara, Amigo, thank you for cheering so hard for this book and for sharing the love you have for Archer so fiercely. We love you and we are truly sorry about the Christmas lights.

  Sarah and Stacey, Jake’s story is stronger because of you guys and we love that. Thank you for loving our words, our characters, our stories as much as you do. Bring on Vegas 2018.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Bennett

  Jake and Aubrey’s Playlist

  About the Author

  Other books by Haley Jenner

  Connect with Haley Jenner

  PROLOGUE

  Clarah. Aubrey: Age 4

  I sit silently surrounded by the darkness my kitchen casts in the muted light of the moon. My kitchen. No, Joseph’s kitchen. Joseph’s house. He’d hate to hear me say that. It would cause him pain to know that I don’t feel as though I fit here. But it’s true. I feel like a guest. Sometimes an unwanted one. Not that he purposefully makes me feel that way. He would never intentionally try to make me feel unwelcome. I’ve come to realize it’s just part and parcel of being with a man married to his career. He loves me, in his own way, I’m certain of that. I just no longer feel comfortable with being third on his list of important things in life; pushed down by his job and Aubrey. Not that I wouldn’t happily play second-fiddle to Aubrey my entire life. I would do that without pause. Our sweet girl deserves his love first and foremost, but even her porcelain skin and auburn hair can’t sway him past his work. That company wins out, each and every fucking time. Whatever the season. Whatever the month, day, week or year. It trumps everything else. I hate it. Fucking despise its existence.

  My thumb and forefinger gently turn the stem of my wine glass, round and round. The movement is slow and methodical as I wrestle with my thoughts.

  My heart feels heavy for Joseph; I just don’t know if it’s love anymore. I care for him deeply, and I think once upon a time I did truly love him. Not in the way I’d experienced love before. More a companionship that grew into more. I’m not even certain exactly how it happened, in all honesty. He wandered into the gallery I was working in, and I think it was his eyes that drew me in the most. They’re excessively kind, even though he tries to hide it. Still, after all these years, I’m not sure why he does that. Hides himself from others. Maybe he knows his ability to return their affections would only ever be restricted. Why invite people in when you will only disappoint them with what you’re willing to give?

  He couldn’t quite comprehend me in the beginning. I scared him, I know that. Wild auburn hair, loose around my shoulders and my complete lack of humility when respecting the personal space of others. He tried for the first few minutes to continually step out of my space, but I’d move straight back into his, as is my nature. He gave up eventually, a perplexing look of amusement making his handsome face tip up in a genuine smile. A gesture, at the time, I was sure he didn’t make often. It surprised him as well, enough for him to invite me out for coffee. I readily agreed. Steve had broken my heart a long and lonely twelve months prior, and this was the first man to intrigue me since then.

  I was young when mine and Steve’s relationship dissolved. I thought that leaving Carnation, losing myself in my labor of love would heal my damaged heart, but it didn’t fill my soul the way Steve did. Nowhere close. But I’ve slowly come to realize that isn’t possible. I think I always knew, but I lived in my ignorance for many years, trying to convince myself otherwise.

  Thinking back to those first few months after I left Carnation, I regretted my decision to run almost as immediately as I’d made it. But I was still hurt, resentful that he wouldn’t follow me and let me explore my passion for art. So, I refused to go back. Instead I let myself wallow in my self-pity, trying in earnest to let this passion I thought was my life, make me feel better. Joseph was the first thing since my heart was broken to make me feel something other than despair. Maybe that’s why I latched on. Maybe to begin with, but I can’t let myself disregard what we shared. Because, even just for a short time, it was special.

  I think we both threw ourselves into our romance, pretending it was more. We were married within months and pregnant with Aubrey within twelve. We were caught up in one another through that whirlwind and for the briefest time, I let myself reason that I’d never been happier. I had a solid man, quiet and while sometimes a little disinterested, I never doubted his love for me. I could see it in his kind eyes. It shone heavily, especially around the time Aubrey came into our lives. But as clearly as I saw it in that first year, it became harder and harder for him to juggle the three loves of his life.

  Work.

  Aubrey.

  Me.

  I always come last and day-by-day it has eaten away at my soul. I feel myself continually comparing what we share to what I shared with Steve. Because of anything in my life, other than my love for Aubrey, I know what Steve and I had was true. It was passionate and volatile, given our youn
ger years. But it was real. We were just too young to appreciate it. Too immature to realize what we had in front of us and were both too stubborn to fight for it. I know I’ve never fallen out of love with Steve and Joseph knows that too. Maybe that’s why I’m third. Why should he give me the full extent of his love, of his heart, when I won’t, can’t, give him mine?

  So, I sit here, alone in the darkened kitchen that belongs to the man I should feel more for.

  My husband.

  The father of my child.

  I’ve selfishly spent more time than acceptable, wishing my husband was someone else. Someone I’d pushed away over six years prior. I’d never wish for another father for Aubrey. It wouldn’t be right and as much as his work comes first, Joseph loves her with his whole heart. He just struggles to show it.

  He missed another one of my gallery shows tonight, one I’d worked excessively hard on, poured my soul into. The artist is an up and comer, someone really special and I was excited to share it with him. But unsurprisingly, he didn’t show. Didn’t even call to tell me he couldn’t make it. Just never bothered to turn up. He’ll come home with his apologies. A look of regret and guilt on his face that will make me want to forgive him. Because it’ll be genuine. One hundred percent. But he would’ve forgotten, would’ve let himself get caught up in his work and forgotten that Aubrey and I existed.

  In five years, he’s been to one show. The first one I curated when we started dating. That’s the grand total in five years. Yet, I’ve been to every event his company has run. I have stood by his side and supported him as his wife and have been his greatest cheerleader through every achievement, through his success. He just can’t seem to find the time to do the same for me.

  The front door clicks open, and I watch in the dull light as he sheds his jacket and briefcase, loosening his tie while cracking his neck side to side. He looks tired, worn down by his life and I regret that we both seem to be pulling one another down. How can two people who share such love for a child, struggle to find the connection they need for their relationship to survive?

  “You’re still up?” His voice is soft, drifting quietly towards me as he looks toward the stairs and Aubrey’s room, switching on the hall lamp to gently lighten the room.

  “Yeah, only just got home myself an hour ago,” I reply, picking up my glass to take a sip.

  He sits beside me, leaning forward to retrieve my glass and taking a heavy swallow. Handing it back, he stares at me silently, as I predicted with regret and guilt plaguing his features. He no longer verbalizes his apologies; he doesn’t need to. I can see it in his eyes and it only seems to cause further damage when the words are spoken aloud.

  “How’s Aubrey?”

  I smile softly. “She’s good. Babysitter said she refused to sleep until they’d papered her wall with her art. Most of it is stick people with smiling faces, but she thinks it’s award winning. I’m sure we’ll be gifted the first viewing in the morning.”

  Joseph laughs quietly. “She’s like you. Creative.”

  My bottom lip pushes out in thought. “Actually, I see more of you in her. She’s direct. Firm. She has a mind for business.”

  “I can hope.” He smiles openly, my words bringing him happiness.

  We sit in silence for long, subdued minutes, the only sound between us is the drag of the glass back and forth across the table as we share a glass of wine.

  His sharp intake of breath causes my heart to beat faster, knowing that whatever is said next, will see the end of our marriage. His mouth closes, then opens again as he struggles to find the right words. “I hate that I finally have to admit that this isn’t working,” he finally whispers, his jaw resting in his palm as he meets my eyes.

  “Me too,” I agree, my throat cracking along the tortured words.

  Reaching over, he grabs hold of my hand, and we squeeze each other tight. Tears sting my eyes and his glisten. He removes his glasses, blinking rapidly as the moisture drops onto his cheeks and my chin trembles.

  “I often wish I could go back, to that moment in the gallery when I saw you the first time. My gosh, you were beautiful. And free. You seemed so untamed. I know I don’t always show it, Clarah, but I love you, very dearly. I’m just disappointed that I can’t seem to do it in a way you deserve. In a way you’ve experienced before.”

  He sniffs heavily, turning his head away for the briefest of moments before focusing back on me. “You’ve shown me a very different part of life, sweetheart. It may not seem that way, but I’ll be sad without you here. Without seeing your face each day,” he reaches out, brushing his fingers along my cheek. “But I won’t lie, I’ll be glad not to see you growing unhappier day by day. Regretting setting up a life, here, with me.”

  “No,” my voice cracks and I hold his hand, pushing it against my cheek. “You helped me mend my broken heart, Joseph. Something I thought wasn’t possible. I met you at a time when I felt utterly…. broken. You fixed that. You made me smile and laugh, you made me happy. Joseph, you showed me love, when I thought it couldn’t possibly exist.”

  He strokes a thumb thoughtfully along my jaw, watching its path. “Not completely. I could never heal it completely.” He moves his attention from his thumb to my eyes. “I wasn’t the person who could truly mend it, your heart. That’s why I couldn’t fix it completely. It wasn’t mine to fix, Clarah.”

  I close my eyes against his words, licking the tears dampening my lips. “I would never regret sharing this life with you, Joseph. I wish I could be content with what we share, but I just need…”

  “More,” he finishes for me and I nod, dropping my eyes and letting my tears fall to the table.

  “I tried. I really tried, Clarah. But I just… I’m sorry.”

  Shaking my head, I stand from my seat, moving to sit on his lap, hugging him fiercely. “Don’t ever apologize to me for who you are. I love that man, always will. Your kind eyes and good heart. It’s just, maybe we’re destined for different things.”

  He scoffs, laughing at my declaration. “I’m not one to really believe in destiny, sweetheart.”

  “I know,” I smile through my tears, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

  “I’ll miss this,” he returns the gesture, touching his lips to mine lightly. “The affection you so freely give to me. It has always made me feel somewhat worthy enough of you when you needed to touch me. Then you gave me Aubrey, and I knew, deep in my heart, that there is no way I could repay you for all that you have given me. You gave me Aubrey, Clarah. You gave me my sweet girl.”

  I hug him tighter, taking comfort in the small intimacy he gives.

  “Please don’t keep her from me,” he whispers this last request, the emotion evident in his tone. “Clarah, I beg you, no matter what happens, please don’t keep her from me.”

  Pulling back, I look into his eyes shocked that he would think that of me. “I would never, ever, do that. God, Joseph. You’re her Daddy. I know how much you love and care for her. You will always be the number one man in her life. Always. I promise you that.”

  “Will you stay here, in Seattle and continue at the gallery or move back home?”

  I clear my throat, swallowing to relieve the dryness in my mouth. “I gave my notice tonight. I love my job, enjoy the rush it gives me, but even working somewhere that feeds my passion so heavily, I’m still unhappy. It doesn’t let me feel fulfilled, and that’s what I want in life. To feel content, to feel as though I have everything I need.”

  He nods somberly at my words, casting his eyes downwards to hide his reaction. I know his unspoken question; one he’ll never ask and I’m grateful he won’t. I can’t let myself consider Steve, not right now. Not when my heart feels heavy with the loss of my marriage. Contemplating anything further than what is right in front of me, right now, is too much to bear.

  We sit, wrapped around one another, me perched upon his lap, while we come to terms with the cold truth that our marriage is over. It wasn’t destructive or scan
dalous. Just an incredibly emotional moment in which two people, who tried to love one another enough, failed. We give ourselves the intimacy to grieve, and it makes it somewhat easier, if only slightly.

  “Aubrey,” Joseph speaks, startling me from my thoughts and I turn to see our daughter, eyes wide standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Why are you both sad?”

  “Aubrey, have you been listening to Mommy and Daddy talk?”

  She nods, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I heard Daddy come home. Are you going away?” she asks me, her eyes full of worry.

  I swallow deeply, trying hard to find the words for my four-year-old.

  “You and Mommy are going to live in a different house,” Joseph answers for me, his voice soothing.

  “Will you be there too?”

  “No, sweetheart,” he responds, holding out his hand for her to come closer. “Daddy is very busy with work, so it will be just you and Mommy. But we’ll visit one another all the time and speak on the phone – ”

  “You’re sending us away?”

  Her voice is so small, so unsure and I want to cry.

  “You don’t love Mommy and me anymore? Just your job?”

  “No, sweetheart. I love you more than anything.”

  “So you’re taking us away?” She asks me, her voice verging on hysterical.

  I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat, cursing that her intuition is so strong, even at her age.

  “Aubrey, no one is sending or taking anyone away. It just happens sometimes with families. It doesn’t mean we love you any less. It’s just that we need to live in different homes.”

  She looks between us both, her crystal blue eyes brimming with tears, but before I can move towards her, she turns on her heel and runs up the stairs.

  Standing to follow her, Joseph grabs hold of my arm. “I’ll go.”

  I watch his ascent towards her room and curse the both of us once again. Are we shitty parents? Causing Aubrey this much heartbreak at such a small age. Will she remember? Will she resent us both for breaking up her family? I hope one day she can understand I did this for the both of us. Watching your parents suffer through a loveless marriage would be torturous. I want her to be happy, secure in the love that surrounds her at home. Not drowned down by despair and loneliness. I think this way, we’ll both be better parents.