by C. A. Harms
“Just because you are an ass does not mean I’m gonna stop seeing her. That isn’t fair to her. She can’t help that her son is a jerk. Nora deserves better than that.”
I smile, not because I think what she says is funny in any way, but because the way she cares about my mother in such a short time warms my heart. This woman is a saint.
Her eyes swarm instantly with tears, and I feel like a complete ass.
“No.” I reach out for her, but she jerks her arm away. “No, I wasn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” She moves to step around me, and I sidestep to block her. “Baby, I was an ass. You’re right.”
“Stop.” She pushes against me. I don’t attempt to grab for her, but I don’t move, either. “I was wrong.” Leaning in, I deeply inhale the scent of her shampoo, a scent I never realized until now just how much I missed. “I reacted, and I should have just asked.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just need to leave.” I know that means that she is hanging on the verge of breaking, and if I was a better man, I would just let her go. But the thought of doing just that makes me feel panicked with the idea that I may never get this chance again. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”
“What, like I am a spoiled, entitled bitch?” Janelle looks up with red-rimmed eyes, and her nostrils flare.
“I wouldn’t.” I stop, realizing that I have no idea one way or the other if I truly said those things to her.
“You would,” her chest rises, and she takes in a slow breath, “and you did.”
She shoves against me once more, and this time I let her pass. I have nothing; no amount of I’m sorrys will erase my words. Janelle is not entitled; she works hard for her life and what she has. She is devoted and kind. I turn around and watch her walk away, feeling my legs wobble beneath me. A bitch, that woman isn’t even close. She is one of the gentlest, sweetest people I have ever met.
I long to follow her, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as the woman I love walks away without looking back. And that shatters me, because I’m not sure she’ll ever let me back in. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance to hold her close and tell her the one thing I should have told her long ago.
“I love you.”
Janelle is the one woman I can honestly see a future with. I can see us sharing our days and nights, supporting one another in all the good and the bad. I lean back and let my head fall to rest on the cool wall at my back.
I never imagined myself getting married or having kids, but with Janelle, it feels different. It feels real. One thing’s for certain—never will I be as cold as my own father was and walk away.
In that moment, it hits me. Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I think of him first?
The Pearsons aren’t the ones responsible for the payment received; it was him. My father. And I refuse to let him think he can come back now and toss some money our way then everything will be all right. Like that could make up for deserting his wife and his son when we needed him most.
Chapter Forty
Janelle
“You look absolutely beautiful.” I peek around her shoulder and push back the hair that has fallen freely. “I knew the caramel highlights would look gorgeous with your skin tone. I’m so jealous.” I can’t help but smile as I touch Nora’s cheek. Somehow being here with her, spending even a few hours in her presence makes some of the ache I feel disappear.
I like to think she can hear me. Like maybe she understands what I’m saying to her. I feel safe talking to her, about anything really.
“He’s stubborn, Nora.” I stand tall once more. “But so am I.”
I concentrate, taking one small strand after another and twisting them around the iron, watching the big bold curls fall away and lay upon her shoulders and back.
“I want to forgive him. I honestly do. I’ve never missed anyone as much as I’ve missed Shane. He makes me happy.” I comb my fingers through her hair and love how silky it feels. “I’ll admit at first I thought he wasn’t so great. It took me awhile to warm up to him. He was so crabby and pushy. Like a cranky gorilla stomping around, growling and huffing.” I laugh as I picture the first time Shane stormed over to my house.
“He doesn’t make the greatest first impression. My sisters and I referred to him as the devil for weeks before that hard exterior of his cracked. I don’t think he meant for me to see that he was kind, and maybe even a little sweet, but I got a small glimpse of that man.”
Moving on to the left side of her head, I begin to curl the remaining hair that hangs straight down her back.
“That single slip-up, the one second of clarity was all it took. He had me, and I know he wasn’t even trying to make an impression.” It was all I needed in order to know that I wanted more. “Shane is a good man, Nora. He doesn’t see it, but I do. I know Martha sees it, too. He is kind and so loyal.”
I pause, thinking how he turned his back so quickly on me and my family. It makes me second guess my last statement.
I hear the sounds of footsteps, and my heart races as I look up, holding my breath. I planned this day; I made sure the chances of Shane coming in while I was here were slim. I’ve managed to avoid him, hoping that maybe with time the sting of his words would lessen. But here it is, the moment I’m not sure I am ready for.
A tall man with dark hair and a broad stance fills the doorway. His face is somewhat shadowed, but there is no mistaking who he is. I know very little about Shane’s father, only what he has chosen to tell me. I know that there is bad blood between the two of them for good reason. But I also know that every person deserves a chance to tell their story. I also know that it isn’t me who needs to hear the why, how, or even the when.
“She looks beautiful.” He steps further into the room, and I watch as he looks over Nora slowly. An adoring look is on his face, one of complete utter love. “Her hair was a chestnut color when she was younger, but there had always been that light, almost blonde color that ran through it, too.”
A few more steps before he pauses and keeps a safe distance, still looking only at Nora as if lost in a memory.
“She had it tied back away from her face, the very first time I saw her. A pair of reading glasses riding low on her nose while she looked down at a book she held in her hand. The way she bit her lip like she was concentrating on the words she absorbed.” The man finally looks up at me like it’s the first time he actually sees me since entering the room. “She always loved to read. She read to our son every night, and I would sit on the floor outside his room and listen to them laugh and talk about the stories.” Suddenly, this man seems so small as I imagine him curled up sitting with his back against the wall, his head back and turned to the side, staring at the closed door. A door that separated him from his wife and son. “I was always so jealous of how close they were but also so completely in love with it.” Tears fill my eyes; this man seems so lost, and I know that I shouldn’t feel sorry for him, but I can’t control it. “The two of them were the best part of my days.”
Then why did you leave them? It’s what I want to ask him, but it’s not my place.
“I longed to hear them laugh. When the accident happened, I knew that was all over, the laughter. I could see it in the way people looked at me.” I know I should stop him, but it’s like I’m frozen. “They blamed me; he blamed me. I could see it in his eyes, and I couldn’t take that look anymore.”
“Maybe you should be telling your son these things.” My voice is nothing but a low whisper.
“I can’t.” Shane’s father steps forward. “It’s why I came here, why I waited for you to be alone.”
“What?”
“I was hoping that you would talk to him.” Is this man for real? “Maybe you can convince him to listen to what I have to say.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect, sir, but frankly this is none of my business. You—”
“My son loves you. He’ll listen to you.”
&
nbsp; “Shane is hardheaded and,” I pause as I watch him for any type of reaction to my words, “you truly don’t know your son at all, do you?”
“I used to.” Again, his confession seems so very sad. “I know I only have myself to blame for that, though.”
The man glances at Nora once more, reaching out to brush his fingertips along her jaw. The sentiment is one filled with so much love it almost breaks me.
“I’m sorry.” When he whispers this, I wonder what he is apologizing for. Is he telling her he is sorry for walking away? “I shouldn’t have come. Please forgive the intrusion.” And with that, he is gone, no please talk to Shane, no more saddened words or stories of his life with Nora. I am left with only silence.
***
I am running late, knowing that I should have left an hour ago but unable to drag myself away from Nora. Part of me feels like I need to stay to protect her, and another part keeps screaming it is not your place to pry.
I know that Shane’s father wouldn’t hurt her, but I keep thinking about what if she could hear what was said? What if she heard the man ask me for help and then heard me pretty much tell him no? I am torn between the right and the wrong, only I’m not sure which is which.
I have no idea what took place. I don’t know what kind of man Shane’s father is or was.
When Sandy comes in to get Nora settled in bed, I slip out, lingering in the hallway, still battling my indecisiveness. Then when Sandy steps out and gives me a look like I don’t belong, I decide it’s time to leave.
When I step outside, I panic the very second I see the approaching lights. I would recognize those headlights any night. I had seen those very lights shine though my front window many times. I had sat on my couch waiting for him to come home so that I could go to bed. It’s my way to know he is safe without actually speaking to him.
Another one of my not-so-grown-up moments.
I hurry forward and cross the darkened lot in the direction of my Jeep. I click the unlock button, and when my lights flash, I cringe. Like a dark beacon, they glow in the desolate space.
Another one of my not-so-grown-up moves…I bolt and run toward the driver’s side and am just about to climb inside when I hear my name being called out.
My body jerks in response, and my back tenses.
“Will you wait, please?”
“No.” I want to slap myself. Since when did I become such a child?
“Now who’s being a baby?” It’s as if he stole the thoughts right out of my mind, and it infuriates me.
“Go to hell, Shane.”
“Been there.” I swivel around and glare at him. “I would rather stay here with you.”
“You are an idiot.” I know he isn’t going for funny, but I am having a hard time fighting my smile. This is all so ridiculous.
“Yes, I am, a huge idiot.” As if he sees I am having a difficult time, he offers me his signature smirk, and I falter. “I screwed up, okay? I told you I would, but I miss you like crazy. I miss every single thing about us. The quiet doesn’t feel the same unless it’s you I am being silent with. Now it just feels sad. It’s lonely without you by my side.”
We’ve joked before about not needing to speak when we are sitting near one another because just knowing the other is there is satisfying enough. I know that’s what he is referring to.
“I hate days without you, and the nights are really rough, too. I got used to hearing you snore.”
“You snore.” I do not snore.
“Okay, I snore.” At this point, I know he’ll say anything.
“Do you even, for a second, understand what it means to me that you come here to see my mom?” Shane steps in closer and places his palm on the fender of my Jeep. His chest is now so close to me that my own brushes against him with each breath I take. “Even when you hate me, you still come here.”
“I don’t hate you.” If only he understood how wrong his statement is.
“No?”
“I just think that you’re a complete ass.” With how close he is, it makes it really hard to maintain my cool and drive home the magnitude of my words. I may as well have panted the word sexy in place of ass.
I’m surprised when he lifts his hand to cup the side of my face. ”You’re right, I am an ass.” The pad of his thumb skims over my lower lip. “But I’m an ass who is in love with you.”
Closing my eyes tight, I attempt to fight off my emotions but am lost when his lips touch mine. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, I swear it’s difficult to breathe. I said I couldn’t be the man you deserved, Janelle, but I can’t sit back and let someone else be that man for you, either. I want you, I want this, and I will do whatever it takes to give you everything you deserve. Please tell me I haven’t lost you. Tell me there’s still a chance for me to make this right.”
A single tear runs along my cheek, and I reach up to grip the back of his neck, holding him close.
“Say it again,” I whisper, my lips hovering near his. “Please tell me again.”
It takes a few seconds for him to figure out what I am referring to. When he does, he slouches down, ensures that he has my complete and undivided attention, and when he knows he does, he whispers what I need to hear.
“I am so completely in love with you, Janelle Pearson.”
Chapter Forty-One
Shane
Janelle stands at the kitchen sink, rinsing dishes from the dinner we’ve just shared while I sit at the kitchen table watching her. My heart feels whole once again, with the exception of one last thing I have to handle. But I won’t allow my father to ruin my night with her.
It has already been too long since I had her near, since I’ve been able to kiss her or hold her close. Tonight I will enjoy us, and tomorrow I will figure out the rest.
“Are you just gonna sit at the table for the next hour and watch me?”
I redirect my attention and find that Janelle is looking back over her shoulder at me. A smile on her face, she waits for my response.
Instantly, I get a flashback of earlier outside Evergreen when she looked at me almost the same way she is now and whispered, “I love you, too,” the words that rocked my world. Words I’ve heard before in my life but, from this beautiful woman, they change everything. I am no longer alone. I have her, and having her is better than winning the lottery. I don’t need things; I need her.
“I like the view, what can I say?”
“Always with the sweet responses, but you do know I have already been wooed.”
I chuckle and stand, grabbing the last of the dishes off the table and carrying them over to her. After placing them on the counter at her side, I slip in behind her and glide my palms over her arms, along her shoulders, and then down her side, pausing at her hips. I press a kiss to the base of her neck and feel her shiver against me.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is laced with excitement while she pushes back against me, giving me the go ahead without actually saying the words.
“I’m loving on my woman.” I smile when she lets out a laugh. I allow myself to feel absolutely nothing other than us, her and I. “Have I told you lately that I missed you?” She nods. “Have I told you that I secretly climbed the fence at night and sat on your back porch just to feel closer to you?”
She tries to turn and look at me, but I stop her.
“I don’t like how I feel when I’m not with you. I need you, Janelle.” I teeter on the verge of addiction, but I refer to it as utter devotion, because I do know I could go on without her; I just never want to.
“I need you, too.” Her confessions mean the world to me. I never thought I needed to hear things like this. I’d spend my days and my nights without affection, but each time she shows me even an ounce, I feel like I am starving to hear more. It’s like eating Spam for a year then getting a filet mignon for the first time. This woman is my taste of a better life, a life I have denied myself, and now I’m not going back. I can have both. I can work my ass off to take care of my mothe
r and have Janelle on my side supporting me. I know this now.
She turns in my arms, her hands still wet from the soapy dishwater, and she looks up at me. For a few seconds, neither of us says a word until she brings her lips closer to mine and whispers, “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me?”
“I’d be more than happy to.” Closing the little distance left between us, I press my lips to hers and for a moment just enjoy kissing her, feeling how she gets so lost in our kiss. Tasting her slowly, craving just one more second. I could kiss her for hours and be completely content.
When she slips her cool, still dampened hands beneath the hem of my shirt, I shiver but do nothing to stop her. Inch by inch, she lifts my t-shirt, and I pause, kissing her long enough to pull it up and over my head, tossing it to the floor at our side.
One piece at a time, our clothes begin to fall to our feet, and when she is left standing before me naked in the middle of her kitchen, I grip her waist and lift her. Immediately, her legs wrap around me, and I feel her shift her hips. Groaning, I grip her ass and begin walking her toward the counter where I sit her.
I tremble, feeling the excitement race through me so fast it makes me feel lightheaded.
“I love when you touch me,” she confesses with her eyes focusing on my own. I swallow, trying to control myself and keep from falling apart. I can never even begin to explain how much I rely on her, how much I need her and crave her. Not only physically but emotionally. I feel as though I am starving for her almost constantly.
I enter her, and her back arches as she tightens her legs around me. It only takes a few seconds for me to realize our mistake, and I freeze. Only she continues to move against me. “Don’t stop,” panting, she grips my shoulders tight, “please don’t stop.”
“Condom.” I don’t know how we could’ve forgotten. We’ve had one slip-up but since then have been so careful.
“It’s okay. Pill.” Cupping my cheek, she kisses my lips softly. “And I trust you completely.”
