by Cari Quinn
“My sister.” The tears were back in her eyes, and this time, they weren’t merely happy. “God, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. It’s not just about seeing her. If my mom’s there too…”
“We’ll cross that bridge together. Call Harper,” he said, rounding the car to slip into the driver’s side.
Just as he expected, Jazz leaned against the door and placed her call. He’d banked on her not wanting to make it in front of his mother, which played right into his hands.
“You really claim to love me?” he asked in an undertone, facing straight ahead.
“How can you ask that?” His mother huffed out a breath. “Of course I do. Your father does too. You’re all we have left. You and the baby—”
“And Jazz,” he interrupted. “You don’t get me or that kid without her. She’s the only reason you’re here right now. Remember that.”
His mother fell silent.
He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, speaking quickly as Jazz laughed loudly outside the car. Her distraction was perfect timing. “I need your help.”
“Whatever you need,” his mother said quickly enough to stir the guilt he hadn’t realized he had left in her direction. He’d buried it under anger and hurt and resolve so many years ago that he’d figured it had ebbed away entirely.
“We’re driving to San Jose to meet Jazz’s sister today. Tomorrow I need you to get the band to San Francisco. I’ll tell you the exact location in a couple hours after I make some calls.” He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Can you do that for me?”
Her lips trembled before they firmed. “You’re going to marry her.”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to tell him he was making a mistake. That he needed to take time to think, to allow the emotion that had arisen from the doctor’s visit to fade before he made rash decisions he couldn’t take back.
Instead she nodded and gave him a small smile. “I can do that.”
He sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re my son.”
He didn’t give the words a chance to take root inside him where they could weaken the walls he’d constructed so carefully. “And Lila,” he said, increasing his grip on the wheel. “She should be there too. Harper will probably ride up with us.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t offer any appeals for herself or his father, and that was what broke him.
“You and Dad can come too,” he said finally, forcing himself to open his eyes. Hers were damp and riveted to the reflection of his in the rearview mirror. “If you want,” he added when she didn’t speak.
“If we want?” She laughed brokenly. “Oh Gray. Being part of your life is all we want.”
Jazz pulled open the door and cast a wary glance at the backseat before slipping into the passenger seat.
“Well?” he demanded.
“She has a job tonight. She’s really sorry.”
“What about tomorrow? Is she busy then?”
“I’m not sure.” She peered at him closely. Too closely. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Never mind. We’ll figure it out.” He snapped on his belt and reversed too swiftly, belatedly realizing she was still staring at him and hadn’t belted herself in yet. “Put on your seatbelt.”
“I would have, if you hadn’t dislocated my neck from my spinal column back there.” Shaking her head, she snapped her belt into place. “What is your deal? You’re acting seriously weird. Is it the baby thing?” She sighed. “I know you wanted a girl. Are you disappointed?”
“Disappointed? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Gray,” his mother said. “Language, please.”
“Yes. Little ears,” Jazz reminded him, cupping her stomach as if he’d forgotten who she was referring to.
“No, I’m not disappointed.” He struggled to keep his voice even as he finished backing out of the spot and drove out of the lot. “I told you I’d be happy with either one.”
“I know.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you disappointed?”
“Oh God, no. I’m thrilled beyond belief for a boy. They’re so much fun. I bet he’ll look just like you. He’s already very—athletic,” she said, wiggling her brows in a way that indicated she wasn’t talking about sports.
“Hmm. That is true. But you’ve got some flexibility going yourself.”
Her mouth twitched as she tried not to grin. “Besides, Harper was right. I’ll just keep trying until I get my girl.”
His mother made a choked sound in the back, and for once, he didn’t get annoyed. He just laughed. “Is that so? Do I have a say in the matter?”
“Sure. You can say yes.”
He laughed again and reached across the console for her hand, cupping it against her belly. “When it comes to you, I don’t know any other word.”
Four
When she’d mentioned wanting to visit Molly as soon as possible, she hadn’t meant this.
After heading back to the house to say goodbye to Gray’s mother—who had seemed unnaturally misty-eyed, which might have been a byproduct of the ultrasound appointment or just that day’s smog activity—and to pack a couple of bags, they were on the road again to San Jose. About an hour into the trip, Jazz came to two conclusions.
They hadn’t called Molly to ascertain she was willing to see them so soon. Or hell, that she would even be home.
And she was hungry. Seriously freaking hungry.
The second issue was solved with a quick detour through the drive-thru, though she was guilted into getting a salad with her chocolate shake. Not that she cared. Even wilted lettuce under fat free dressing tasted absolutely glorious.
The first issue involved a phone call that had Jazz’s now sated belly crawling with nerves as the phone rang.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
Jazz inhaled sharply at the sound of the girl’s rich, alto voice, causing Gray to look her way in obvious alarm. She waved him off. “Hello, Molly? Is this Molly?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Jazz.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Mine.”
“Mine?” Molly repeated, as if the word didn’t quite make sense. Because it didn’t. What kind of nickname was Mine? But then Molly laughed, and Jazz relaxed in her seat. “Oh wow, Mine. I just remembered that. I used to call you Mine.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Wow.”
Silence hummed over the line and Jazz bit her lip, wondering what to say next. “Um, I got your letter. We’re on our way to come see you. If that’s okay.”
“Really? Like now?”
“Yes. We’re a few hours away.”
“Oh shit. I mean, yeah, that’s great. I just—I need to clean up. Like a lot. Um, can you call before you get here?”
“That’s what this is.” Jazz laughed weakly. “I’m calling ahead to let you know we’re on the way.”
“Oh. Right. That’s cool. I mean, can you call when you’re about an hour away? I’m kind of busy right now but I want to make sure to shovel out the place before you arrive.”
“Where’s Mom? Can’t she help?”
“Nah, I’m good. Anyhoo, thanks for the heads up. See ya soon, sis. Bye!”
The phone went dead.
Jazz reached for her chocolate shake and took a quick drink to wet her dry throat. God, she was so nervous she was practically shaking. Molly was her sister. Her flesh and blood. She had absolutely no reason to be anxious. She could practically see the Oprah-style tearful family reunion unfolding now.
“Well? What did she say?”
Jazz wiped her mouth and stuck her now empty cup back into the holder. Why hadn’t she gotten a large? A small hadn’t been nearly enough. In fact, she wanted to keep drinking that cool chocolatey goodness until she floated away on—
“Jazz? Hello?”
“Sorry. She was perfectly polite. She seemed delighted we were on the way.”
Molly had said she was
busy. That was probably why she wasn’t more excited. She had to ‘shovel out’ the place, and no one looked forward to cleaning.
“She was pleasant,” she added into the silence. “Very much so.”
“So you’ve said, several times. Which means to me that she wasn’t ‘delighted’ at all.”
“Don’t be a jerk. I’m still hungry, by the way.”
Unsurprisingly, he ignored her plaintive request for food. “What did she say?”
“Not much. She was busy. We should’ve given her more noticed or hell, even called to ask if she was ready for visitors. It was wrong to fucking assume.”
He lifted a brow. “Language there, Sailor Boy.”
It was her turn to ignore him. “I mean, it was probably presumptuous on our part. Just because she sent a letter and said she missed me and wanted to get to know me, that didn’t mean right away. Hey, there’s a chicken place. Let’s go there.”
“If we get off the freeway again, we’re going to get stuck in rush hour traffic.”
“Okay. Do you think they have bourbon chicken?” Jazz gazed longingly out the window at the passing billboard. “The baby wants chicken. It’s not me.”
“Right.” He leaned forward and opened the glove box, then tossed an ancient granola bar in her lap. “Eat that. I’m not getting off the freeway again unless you want to turn around and go home.”
“Okay. Let’s do that.”
“Jazz. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” She sighed and tore at the wrapper of the granola bar she had zippo interest in. “This doesn’t feel like an Oprah reunion, and I kind of had my heart set on one.” She bit into her snack and nearly broke a tooth, but she kept eating it anyway because at least it contained crusty chocolate chips. “Harper’s right. I’m an idiot.”
He frowned. “Harper calls you an idiot? I thought she was your best friend.”
“She is. And she doesn’t say that exact word, but I am. She thinks I’m too soft. Basically a runny egg who never buys a clue.”
“Yeah, I’m not following this conversation at all.” He grabbed his iPhone and flipped it to a metal track, turning it up until she could barely think.
She hit the off button. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for music. You know what I am in the mood for, though?”
“Let me guess. Chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Talk to me.” He slid his arm along the back of her seat to play with the ends of her ponytails. She’d tied one off on both sides of her head in deference to the climbing heat that didn’t seem to be alleviated by the rattling A/C. Or else her internal thermometer was off.
Maybe it was hunger sweats, caused by too much salad and not enough red meat.
“I am talking to you.”
“She didn’t seem happy we were coming, did she?”
She forced herself to stare straight ahead, because if she met his gaze, she would probably crumble. And she was frigging sick and tired of being a hormonal mess. “There is no we in this case. The one she didn’t seem all that thrilled to see is me.”
“I bet she was just surprised is all. She probably figured she’d get a letter in return, not a visit. At least not right away.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”
“What happens if it’s not?” he asked, so softly that she almost couldn’t make out what he said over the hum of the air conditioner.
“Then I go through the same sense of loss all over again,” she answered, just as softly. Knowing he could hear her even when she didn’t have the breath left to raise her voice. “I’m back there walking away from the only family I’ve ever known, not knowing when I’ll ever see them again. Rewriting the end isn’t possible. This is just…it.”
“You have another family now.”
“I know.” She reached up to hold his hand against her shoulder, turning her cheek into the familiar comfort he always gave her, no matter what. “That’s why I’m strong enough to see this through. Why I’m not screaming for you to turn the car around in case this is just going to make things worse.”
“How could it be worse?”
“Oh, it could be.” She let out a brittle laugh. “If I don’t go see her, I can pretend that she’s still a little girl who isn’t old enough to decide she wants me in her life.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, splitting his gaze between her and the road. His brow was marred with lines, a sure sign he was concerned. “We don’t have to go to her place if you don’t want to. I’ll just keep driving until we get to San Francisco.”
She didn’t have to ask him if he was serious. He would do it, if she asked him to. He’d just keep driving forever if it would make her happy.
“What’s in San Francisco?”
He flashed her a distracted smile. “A chance to rewrite history.”
“Hmm. Very mysterious.” She leaned across the console to kiss his jaw. “Just so you know, I’d be down with a Motel Six. Turns out the second trimester is when a chick gets really horny. Just FYI.”
“Gets really horny? Did I miss the time when you weren’t horny?” He laughed as she pushed his arm. “Not that I have a problem with this. Not one bit.”
“Watch it or I’ll go back to whining for chicken.”
“You want chicken more than my dick?”
“Depends what kind of dressing is on it. And what kind of sides. If we’re talking buttery corn on the cob or some creamy coleslaw—” She laughed as he covered her mouth with his hand, but she didn’t let up. “Maybe a biscuit. I could even go for some green beans…” Playfully, she nipped his palm.
“I love that sound,” he said, dropping his hand to her thigh. He rubbed it while he switched lanes, his attention now firmly back on the road.
She had to stop distracting him with talk of chicken and sex. Either topic made her entirely too excitable.
“What sound?”
“You, laughing. You don’t do it nearly enough.”
“Sure I do. I laughed this morning when I saw the kid had a twig and two berries.” She grinned. “It was pretty funny to see your jaw hit the ground.”
“Yeah, yeah. Watch it, Edwards.”
“You won’t be able to call me that once my last name is Duffy.” When that would happen, she wasn’t exactly sure. They hadn’t firmed up wedding plans yet, because they were waiting to see how the album release went and the booking for the tour. Their schedule over the next few months was so packed that even a short honeymoon would be hard to pull off.
“That might be happening sooner than you think.”
“Huh?” She frowned, jarring herself out of hazy daydreams of wedding dresses and seven-layer cakes. Truthfully, the seven-layer cake appealed to her more than getting all done up just to prance down the aisle like a polo pony, but she wasn’t about to eschew tradition.
“Nothing.” He yawned, but she had the strangest feeling that he was faking it. Who fake-yawned? And why? “I’m exhausted, since someone didn’t let me get any sleep last night.” He flashed her a sexy grin. “I think you should sing to me to keep me awake.”
“Dream on, rockstar. But if you ease your seat back a bit, I have an idea for another way I could keep you awake.”
Shooting her a look, he slowed down for a fraction of a second and did as she asked. “Do tell.”
“I was always a show kind of girl.” She undid her seatbelt and edged closer to flip open the button of his jeans.
“You do realize that this is against vehicular law. You’re not wearing your seatbelt. And crawling—oh sweet fuck. I’m supposed to be responsible.”
She freed him from his jeans and boxers, grinning to herself over that silly this way to Oblivion tattoo that he’d gotten while high last winter, and rubbed her thumb over the rounded tip. He wasn’t hard yet but she knew just what to do to get him there fast.
“No, you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel. Let me tak
e care of this.” She gripped him in one hand and slicked her tongue up the side, turning her head so she could look up at his strong profile, highlighted by the sun streaming through the windows. He flicked her a glance, his jaw going tight under the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow. “It’s my job, and I’m damn good at it.”
“Your job is to suck me off?”
“Mmm-hmm. Among others. And right now, yours is to sit there and take it without letting anyone know what I’m doing.” She twisted her neck and eyed the steering wheel. “Can that thing be raised any higher?”
He played with the levers and gave her a triumphant grin. “We’re in luck. It was stuck in the middle position.”
Not so much luck. It gave her little room to work, but she was small…and persistent.
“You’re definitely getting lucky,” she agreed, slipping back to grab her purse.
The dejection that flashed across his face was priceless. “Then why’d you go back over there?”
“Patience, my sweet.” She pried open the mint case in her purse and slipped one in her mouth before resuming her position. “Go faster. I like it when you speed.”
“I’m already doing the speed limit. I will not go—Jesus,” he hissed as her cool lips slid over the tip of his cock. She pressed the mint against the head, swirling it around to add that extra bit of sensation before she wiggled closer and took him deeper.
The car sped up, just as requested.
She sucked harder, using the nails on her free hand to tease his balls. She shifted onto her knees, flattening her torso to wriggle into better position. In a couple months she wouldn’t be able to do this.
Hell, if she’d had that burger with lunch, she probably wouldn’t be able to do this. Her shorts already felt suspiciously snug.
She slid her lips up and down his shaft, both hands working, drawing him slightly to the side so she didn’t get her head stuck under the wheel. That thought made her swallow a giggle and the sound rippled over his length, causing him to remove one hand from the wheel to fist it in her hair.
“Sorry.” He sounded choked. Completely breathless. “Can’t stop.”
Her only response was another guttural noise in her throat as she cupped his balls tighter, rolling the underside of her engagement ring over the sensitive flesh to increase the friction. Some men might not’ve enjoyed that kind of play, but Gray sure did. His fingers weaved through her hair, pulling on her scalp as he forced her subtly down on his dick. Her clit pulsed at show of dominance and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together.
