by Rachel Hauck
“Fulfilling one of your dreams. Long overdue, I might add.” He wound his fingers through her hair. “I love you, Lexa Wilder.”
He swaddled her in his arms and lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was soft, tentative, and altogether marvelous, engulfing her in tingling warmth.
“I love you too.” Shivering, Lexa inhaled the familiar scent of his skin, igniting the cold embers of her passion. She recognized the flame she saw in his eyes. Not just for a physical encounter but for a soul-to-soul, heart-to-heart.
He moved toward her again. His kiss this time was smooth and elegant, and she lost the sense of herself. He electrified her heart and her love for him and resurrected every reason she said yes to his bended-knee proposal.
Gripping his jacket with her chilled fingers, she clung to the hope of his presence, and when he broke away she fell against him, the reality of her love for him now at odds with the course she’d charted for herself.
As the snow continued to cover them, Mickey started another song and Jett began a gentle, steady sway, dancing under the streetlamp to the rhythm of their own hearts.
* * *
Jett
Now that she was in his arms, he couldn’t let her go. He whispered in her ear. “I could come with you.”
She raised her face. “To Seattle? What about your job, your career?”
“How sweet, you think I have a job after tonight.” He kissed her forehead and continued the dance. He’d given Mickey a crisp Ben Franklin to keep the music flowing. He’d moved from “Unchained Melody” to “Unforgettable” and now “Star Dust.”
“Can I tell you something?” he said between songs when Mickey stopped to warm his fingers.
“You can tell me anything.”
“He told me he was in love with you.”
“Who?”
“Storm. That’s what happened on Eiger Mountain the day he died.” The plain, simple confession washed away so much tension.
“What?” Lexa gaped at him. “No, no, he was joking, right? Your brother told you he loved your wife? That makes no sense. Storm could have anyone he wanted. Gorgeous athletes, models, actresses.” She paced away again, hands pressed to the sides of her head. “He said those exact words? But he loved you, Jett. He adored you.”
“Two brothers who couldn’t be any more different fell for the same girl.”
“When did he fall for me? You and I were dating when I met him.”
“Actually, we were still just friends. Remember when he came for the Florida State game?”
“Which one?”
“The year we met. Nine years ago. You knocked his socks off. Guess the Wilder boys have good taste in women.”
“He never said a word.”
Jett was grateful Mickey began playing again, his melodies softening this revelatory, honest conversation.
“He was going to, but if you recall—”
“You kissed me for the first time. And I told you I loved you.”
Jett dug his hands into his coat pockets. The temperature had dropped, and the snowfall had become a white wall.
But this was finally happening. Jett didn’t want to interrupt the momentum, and as long as Mickey played . . .
“Storm kept his feelings to himself. When we got married he was dating one of the show’s producers,” Jett explained.
“Right, and he was crazy about her.”
“Fast-forward to you and I falling apart. When I was in Switzerland, I went to him for advice. Told him we were not getting along, that I was afraid the marriage might end. He blew up. Called me a half dozen choice names. Instead of helping me he threatened me. Said if I let you go, he’d go after you.”
“You’re joking. Jett, he was like a brother to me. I never, ever—”
“I know. You didn’t encourage him. But he was in deep. Convinced himself he wanted you.”
“He told you all of this?”
“Not directly. Things were pretty tense between us. Any attempt to talk ended in a fight.” Jett ran his hand over his face, over the icy needles sticking to his skin. “It was the last day, and he was suited up to fly but had forgotten his phone in his room. Dad sent me back to get it. Storm liked for someone to shoot video with his phone for his personal media sites. That’s when I found the letter. I thought it was just one of his goofy cartoons—”
“I still have the one he drew of me.”
“But it was a letter to you.” He could still see Storm’s angled handwriting. “‘Dear Lexa, I never thought I’d have the chance to say this to you but I’m in love with you. Jett’s informed me things aren’t going well between you and I won’t make a move unless you say so, but I am here for you as a friend if you need to talk.’ The letter stopped there,” Jett said. “I didn’t even need to read between the lines. Storm just put it out there. By the time I got back out to the jump site, I was fuming. We argued in front of everyone. He said if I was stupid enough to let you go, then you were fair game. ‘Not for my brother,’ I said. To which he replied, ‘That’s for Lexa to decide.’”
“You told Storm you thought our marriage might end but never said a word to me.”
“I wanted his advice. I didn’t want to say anything to you when I had no idea what you were thinking or feeling. I half thought you were in love with Zane.”
“I was never in love with Zane.”
“I know that now, but we were in a pretty good slump between school and work, stepping on each other’s wounds when we didn’t know it.”
“You should’ve talked to me.”
“Of course I should have, but I thought I’d sound it out with my big brother first. Instead he stabbed me in the back.”
“So you argued? Then what?”
“You know some of it. The weather was bad and the wind was ripping up from the valley. The conditions were dangerous. Dad and the crew tried to talk him out of flying. Then I showed up with his phone and had a run at him, waving the letter under his nose. And I taunted him.”
“Taunted him how?”
“Said if he was brave enough to go after his brother’s wife he was brave enough to jump into those winds. You know, it was the only time I ever saw fear in his eyes. And it had nothing to do with flying. It had everything to do with his confession. I think he feared we’d never be right again.”
“Oh, Jett.” She covered her mouth with her fingers.
“I never thought he’d actually do it. That sort of harassing worked when we were kids, but not adults. Next thing we all knew, he was leaping, piloting his suit. But the current dropped out from under him and he plummeted. He tried to correct his course and ran smack into a rock the size of your apartment building.”
Lexa sank down to the snowy curb. Mickey tapped Jett’s shoulder.
“Calling it a night.”
“Thanks, man.”
Jett joined Lexa on the curb. “You know the rest.”
She snapped her hazel gaze to him. “It’s not your fault.”
“That’s what Dad said. Even the crew assured me no one was stopping Storm that morning.” Jett’s warm tears clung to the cold corners of his eyes. “But my final words were hateful. Makes me sick.”
He’d scrubbed the image of Storm’s body draped over the jutted rocks on the mountainside. But bits and pieces floated across his mind’s eye.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“After our divorce I spent some time with a therapist. He asked the same thing.” Jett grabbed a handful of the powdery snow and let it slip through his fingers. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t give life to the very thing that tore us apart. Maybe the thing that killed my brother.”
“It was an accident.” Lexa looped her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Jett. So very sorry.”
“Deep down I didn’t want to tell you about Storm, his feelings, because then I’d have to confess my worst fear. I was losing you. Wh-what would you have done? If he told you how he felt?”
She was q
uiet for a long moment. “Told him the truth. His brother was the only one for me.”
His heart bumped against his chest. “That was true then. What about now?”
Her eyes brimmed and glistened. “Now and always, Jett Wilder.”
Reaching into his pocket, he took out the note he’d carried with him since she broke her arm.
“I never gave you this.”
“What is it?” She held the folded piece up to the light. “‘I’ll never tire of taking care of you.’ When did you write this?”
“After you broke your arm. When the society wrote you notes.”
“Jett—” She brushed her hand over his snow-covered head. “I don’t need you to take care.”
“Read between the lines, Lexa.”
She climbed into his lap and roped her arms around his neck, then breathed new life in him by the force and power of her affection.
He kissed her again and again, tumbling back on a bed of snow, laughing, and held her for a long, long time.
Epilogue
Jett
March in Manhattan
Well this was a fine mess. Love spilled all over the Bower.
Chuck, his former cell mate in Central Booking, had just dropped to one knee and proposed to Coral Winthrop.
She cried out with a vibrant yes.
Spring had come to all their lives and kissed them, as well as the cherry-blossom trees outside the library window, with a vibrant pink and filled Jett’s bones and muscles with delight.
In the corner, flames crackled in the fireplace, which had not gone dark since their first Monday-night meeting in September.
An old LP played “I’ll Be Seeing You” on the vintage record player Ed carted all the way from his uptown apartment.
The glow of the sconces seemed to ebb and flow with the golden light of the fire.
Jett shifted in his seat, balancing his new wife on his knee.
“I’m so excited for them,” she said. “Coral, come on. Let’s see.”
But the cosmetic heiress and former Panicked Princess was lost in private whispers with her man, the indomitable Chuck Mays.
Across the circle, Ed beamed from his chair, a snappy gold band on his ring finger. He and Mabel hit it off and married on New Year’s Eve at his daughter’s place on Long Island.
The entire society had gone to their wedding, Jett and Chuck boo-hooing more than the ladies as Ed recited his vows.
Mabel declined their invitation to join the society. “I think this is something just for Eddie.”
But she sent brownies every week, and once a month they gathered on Sunday evening at Coral’s penthouse for dinner.
Jett’s wife left his lap as Chuck came over and slapped him a sturdy high five. “Is this real?” He gazed toward the women. “How’d we end up with those two beauties?”
“Luck?”
Chuck shot Jett one of his hooked, easy grins. “Naw, I’d say divine mercy.”
Chuck initially followed Coral to church because he was falling in love, but according to him, God spoke and he couldn’t go on the way he was before.
Jett remained dubious but watched. Listened. Saw a change in Chuck. So he examined his own life with an eye toward God. Did He care about Jett? If so, he was grateful.
Carrying his plate back to the food table, he picked up a slice of the foot-long hoagie and dropped a few more chips on his plate, mindful he was still on his honeymoon. Too soon for lazy-man love handles.
He winked at his wife—he’d never tire of that word—as he returned to his seat. She held up Coral’s hand, pointing to the ring as it caught all the light.
But it wasn’t the ring that impressed him, or the fact that an Uber driver could afford such a rock, but the joy on everyone’s faces.
The change really started when Ed confessed the truth about Esmerelda. His healing was the lynchpin to everyone’s healing.
Since the arrest of Coral’s senior executives, she had wrestled CCW from the mud, washed it off, and worked to put it back on top of the cosmetics world. She replaced nearly all of her vice presidents and directors, streamlined the company, and, according to the Wall Street Journal, was a business genius.
Her value was up all over the world. She sat down with the hosts of Good Morning New York on a Holly Cook–produced segment to tell her story. While the hosts wanted to know every detail of Prince Augustus, Coral steered them back to the real “prince” of her story, Jesus. Long gone was the Panicked Princess.
“Once I met Him, I couldn’t let go.”
Jett admired her courage.
With his own round of seconds, Chuck dropped into Coral’s chair and angled toward Jett.
“Lucy said it went well with your publisher.”
“She’s a pit bull.” In January, Jett left his agent and signed on with Lucy Hughes, who immediately went to his publisher and demanded a repackaging and rerelease of Rites of Mars.
“With a healthy promotional budget.”
“I told you.” Chuck shoved the corner of his turkey and roast beef into his mouth.
With Coral’s help, Chuck penned his magic-book story. Lucy sold the rights in a bidding war among three publishers.
The Magic Book was scheduled to release next year with an accompanying board game and mobile app. The film rights sold last month.
Yet he still drove for Uber.
“I’d be bored sitting at home. My best ideas come while driving.”
“Any news about the kids?” Jett said.
Chuck shook his head, chewing yet another bite of sandwich. “I finally got my advance and retained a lawyer recommended by Coral’s father. He wants to work on getting the judge to remove the TRO, then push for shared custody. One step at a time.”
When he sold his children’s book, the news broke of his arrest and restraining order. He was almost finished before he started, but Ed’s darling daughter stepped in. She had him on the show and let him tell the raw, real truth of what happened that night.
He’d been so afraid to tell the story society, but five months later, he had the courage to tell the whole city.
“I owe it all to you,” he said to his friends after the show.
Jett got up for one of Mabel’s delicious brownies. The sheen of his pristine platinum ring caught the light and he flexed his hand.
Six months ago a wedding landed him in jail with bruises on his face and knuckles. Now he wore a ring that stood for more than his wedding vows. More than in sickness and in health. More than love and surrender.
It stood for hope. For second chances. For life after the storm.
He didn’t deserve all this goodness, the opportunity to start over, to put his past behind him. But he was grateful.
“When’s the big day, Coral?” The first bite of brownie made his taste buds dance. He had to ask Mabel for the recipe.
She’d probably say the secret ingredient was love. That’s what she told him when he asked about Ed’s pot roast.
Coral gripped her fiancé’s hand. “Not sure. My mother will want a big to-do.” She perched on Chuck’s knee. “I owe her one since I dashed out of the royal wedding. Be prepared, darling, to be treated like a prince.”
“Well, if I must.”
“And I’d like Jakey and Riley to be there.” Coral’s eyes glistened as she cupped Chuck’s cheek. “Let’s pray, okay?”
He dropped his head, clearing his throat. “Just another reason why I love you.”
As for Jett, after he outed Gordon Phipps Roth, the university conveniently downsized the English department, and he was released from his contract.
The president cited the loss of the Roth endowment, but Jett knew it was for Extreme Humiliation to the Esteemed New York College.
Out of a job, he was free to take the three dozen or so TV and radio interviews as well as the nationwide lecture series.
Now that the truth was out, Tenley was eager to talk to him, even invited him down to Cocoa Beach to see the house where she’d fou
nd the hidden room and the hidden truth.
“I kept quiet for the family’s sake. But when you finally spoke up, I knew I could no longer be silent.”
Reworking his dissertation, he took his and Gordon’s manuscript to a major publishing house last month and made a nice sale. Being as it was more of a scholarly work, they had room on their schedule.
Behind the Lie: The Partnership of Gordon Phipps Roth and Birdie Ainsworth would ship to bookstores in September.
Funny thing about the truth: it opened as many doors as it closed. For a woman dead almost fifty years, recompense.
In the meantime, he was supposed to work on a sequel to Rites of Mars while Lucy knocked on a few Hollywood doors. In her last text, she’d hinted super director and producer Jeremiah Gonda was interested.
He’d just directed the blockbuster and Comic-Con fan favorite, Sea Dragon.
After the night on MacDougal Street with Lexa, kissing in the snow—just remembering made him shiver, and not from the cold—he set out on a mission to mend his relationship with his parents.
This summer he was joining them in Scandinavia and the UK for a series of shoots.
The night they agreed, Dad patted Jett’s belly. “Better get in shape, son.”
He thought he was in shape. Since then, it was up at 6:00 a.m. for a long run, and lean protein and veggies for dinner.
Despite his very cool romantic gesture and the hot kissing in the snow, Lexa kept to her word to The Glass Fork.
It was probably the best thing that ever happened to Jett. Because once Lexa was gone, he found love again.
Through emails, texts, phone calls, and visits. He joined her in Florida for Christmas with Skipper, and Mom and Dad Prescott.
Being a professor had been a ruse for his fears. Was he good enough to be an author? Could he support a family with his pen? Look at GPR, who had to lie to sustain his career.
Around February he’d had enough. While he’d imagined a Sleepless in Seattle reunion in either city, he proposed to Lexa one night over FaceTime.
