She hung up and gave Elise a mysterious look.
“What was that all about?” Elise asked, a bit confounded by the change in topics. She’d been pouring her heart out to Emily and it made Emily decide to call her carpenter?
“Just someone you should meet,” Emily said in an enigmatic voice. “He might have some info on your missing sweetheart.”
Elise gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Em.”
• • •
An hour later, the rumbling purr of a motorcycle came from the front of the Victorian, and Elise’s heart pounded with excitement. Was it Rome? She dashed to the front of the house and peered through the curtain . . . and frowned. There was a bike there, but it wasn’t the beat-up old Harley that Rome rode. This bike was sleek, shiny, and new, and the owner pulled off his helmet, revealing shaggy black hair that was entirely too long for Rome.
But his face looked remarkably familiar. So much so that her heart gave a little flip anyhow.
He flipped his hair back and began to saunter toward the door, and she was struck by how similar and yet different to Rome he looked. Whereas Rome was bulky with muscle, this man was extremely tall and lean. When he got to the door, though, she saw a stud under his lower lip. He didn’t have the ring that Rome did.
She realized she was staring and hurried back to the kitchen to hide. A moment later, the doorbell rang and the front door opened. “Emily?” a deep voice called. “It’s me.”
Emily came down the stairs, and Elise realized she’d changed shirts and freshened her makeup. She beamed at the man just as Elise emerged from the kitchen. “Hey, Jericho! Thanks for coming by. I wanted you to meet Elise.” Emily gestured at where Elise hovered in the doorway to the kitchen.
He stuck a big hand out for her to shake, and as she did, she realized he had the exact same, long-lashed blue eyes that Rome did.
“Elise is a friend of Rome’s,” Emily said, and then turned to Elise again. “This is Jericho Lozada. My carpenter.”
She blinked in surprise. “You’re Rome’s brother?”
“One and the same.” He gave her an assessing look. “You must be the reason he stuck around for so long.”
Her face heated with a flush and she pulled her hand from his, then crossed her arms over her chest.
“Elise is upset that Rome left town,” Emily said, heading toward Elise and putting an arm around her protectively. “They just spent the weekend together and then he up and left.”
Jericho rubbed at his mouth. “He texted me last night and told me he was leaving.”
“Where did he go?” Elise asked.
He shrugged. “Anywhere that he can avoid family, I imagine. He didn’t tell me. I think he worried if he did it might somehow get back to our parents.”
“I don’t understand,” Elise said.
Those familiar blue eyes narrowed at her. “How much did he tell you about his past?”
“I know he went to prison,” she said. “Drugs. But I also know that’s not who he is. I’m trying to make sense of it all.”
“You seem very confident that you know just who Rome is,” Jericho said, eyeing her.
“I do,” she replied easily. “And he’s not a drug dealer. Or if he was, that’s not who he is now and I don’t hold it against him.”
A hint of a smile touched Jericho’s hard mouth. He looked over at Emily. “This why you called me over?”
To Elise’s surprise, Emily giggled like a schoolgirl. “Maybe. I also did some baking this morning. You’re welcome to help yourself.”
He grinned at Emily, and Elise suddenly felt like a third wheel. Was there something going on between the two of them . . . ?
“Come on into the kitchen,” Emily told them. “I’ll put on more coffee.”
A few minutes later, they sat at the kitchen island again, plates of cookies in front of each of them and fresh coffee in their mugs.
“So,” Jericho said, looking over at Elise. “You want to know about Rome’s past.”
“I do.”
“You’re right that Rome’s not a dealer. Never was.”
Elation flared in Elise’s heart. “But then . . . why did he go to prison?”
“He went for Mom.”
Elise’s jaw dropped. “They were his mother’s drugs?”
Jericho gave her a wry look. “Whatever picture you have in mind of motherly love, you might as well get it out of your head. Mama Lozada is a lot of things, but she’s a shitty parent. Both my parents are, actually. The polite word to use to describe them is probably ‘hippies’ or ‘bohemians,’ but the reality is that they’re just drifters. You move from place to place, following the party.” He shrugged. “I spent my childhood crashing on couches and watching my parents spend their last few dollars to light up with friends. They’ve never stopped partying, not even for their kids. It was a shitty life. We barely went to school, and any time someone got concerned for our welfare, we’d skip on to the next town. It’s hard to get a real job when you’re homeless, so we panhandled, did odd chores, lived with friends, you name it. Mom and Dad sold drugs, too.”
“It sounds awful,” Elise whispered.
“It was,” Jericho said flatly. “I hated every f**king minute of it. Always felt bad for Rome, too. I hated our parents, but he so desperately wanted to see them as real parents and not shitty human beings. As a result, they’d act up and get into some sort of trouble, and would throw Rome out there to take the rap. By the time I hit seventeen, the kid had a rap sheet a mile long, and a lot of it wasn’t his.”
Her mouth went dry at the thought. “But why did he—”
“Mom was great at figuring out what made Rome tick. He was always super responsible, even when they weren’t. I remember she used to cry when she got in trouble, because she knew he couldn’t stand to see a woman cry.”
Her eyes widened. She remembered him saying that to her. Don’t cry, Elise. I can’t stand it when girls cry.
“She sounds manipulative,” Emily commented.
“Oh yeah. She could teach a master class on manipulation, my mom.” Jericho sipped his coffee and devoured another cookie. “That’s why I got out of there as soon as I was old enough. Had to leave Rome behind, but didn’t have a choice. Told my family I was running off to join an MC.”
“MC?” Elise asked, puzzled.