Love Ignited

by Jacie Lennon

  I lay my head back down, wiggling a little to get comfortable, and my body melts into his. We lie that way long enough for his even breaths to lull me to sleep.

  I’m woken a little bit later as he shifts underneath me. My body falls behind his as he struggles to get off the couch, and I raise my head to look at him, blinking a few times.

  “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. I’m going to go visit Grams for a while. But I’ll come back here and stay with you tonight.”

  I nod, not quite awake yet. “Oh, okay. Do you want me to come with you?” I push up to sit and run a hand through my matted hair.

  “No, it’s okay. You stay and rest. You were snoring pretty loudly,” he says with a smile.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Swear.”

  “I don’t snore. I’m a lady,” I say.

  “You also left a huge drool spot on my chest. It was sexy,” he says with a laugh, walking to where he left his bag beside the couch yesterday. “I’ll pick some dinner up on my way back.”

  I watch his ass as he heads to change in the bathroom before flopping back down on the couch. Sighing, I reach my hand around for my phone before realizing that it’s in the bedroom where Mason threw it on the bed earlier. I push back up to sit and get up, standing for a moment to orient my spinning head before walking to the bedroom and grabbing my phone.

  Three missed calls. Two from my parents and one from Kyle. I wish he would leave me alone.

  26

  Mason

  As soon as I arrive at the hospital, all of the emotions from the day before come flooding back. Paired with the feelings that Jules just brought up about my mom, I’m in bad shape by the time I get to Grams’s room. Dad is sitting in the corner, wearing the same clothes from yesterday and sipping coffee, looking exhausted.

  “Hey, Dad, Grams,” I say.

  They both look at me standing in the doorway. Grams’s face lights up with a smile, like it always does when I walk in a room. She truly knows how to make me feel good.

  “Did you sleep here?” I ask Dad, and he nods.

  “I tried to get him to go home, but he wouldn’t. I don’t need him babysitting me,” Grams says.

  Dad just leans back in the chair, not saying anything, a frown marring his face.

  “I can stay if you need to go home,” I tell him.

  “I might run and get a shower, pack a bag,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and leaning over Grams, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  I stand there, watching as he grips her hand, looking like he never wants to let go. I feel the tears gathering in my eyes again—from the fear of losing Grams and from the sadness of losing out on having a mother like Dad got to have. I guess I’m the lucky one that I got her too. He clasps my shoulder as he walks by, not saying anything.

  “How’s my best girl? Have the doctors been by with news?” I ask as I sit on the side of her bed.

  “Oh, no, no news yet. I did meet a nice young lady. Hanna, I think her name was.” Grams’s brow furrows as she thinks.

  “Yeah, Hanna is Jules’s best friend. She’s married to Ezra. I work with him down at the station.”

  She nods and pats my hand. “Yes, she was so sweet. Brought me a chocolate chip muffin when I asked.” She grins, a twinkle in her eyes. This woman and her chocolate. “She said it was dark chocolate, her favorite, and it’s a little healthier than milk chocolate. I haven’t been able to eat much of it though.”

  She picks the muffin up and tries to hand it to me, but I shake my head. What is it about grandmothers and trying to feed everyone?

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “I’m fine, Mason. Don’t worry about me. I don’t want to talk about myself. How is your young lady?” She smiles. “Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

  “She’s resting at home. She’s been sick with the pregnancy.” I shrug.

  Grams nods with a faraway look in her eye. “Marv took such good care of me when I was sick with your father. You be good to her, Mason. It’s not easy, growing another human being.”

  We sit in silence for a moment before I clear my throat.

  “I think I’m going to see Mom.” My voice comes out choppy, and I sound like a boy going through puberty.

  Grams just nods and pats my hand. “I figured you would, dear. I think it’s the right decision.” She gives me a tight smile. “I never did like the woman, but your dad wouldn’t see reason. They never do at that age. You men sure are a stubborn lot.”

  “Us men?” I ask incredulously with a laugh. “Have you met you women?” I say, pointing at her.

  She chuckles. “You might be right there. I think you should see what she has to say. Forgiveness is key even if it ultimately doesn’t end in a relationship with her. Right now, you are in limbo, not knowing who you are with or without her. There are too many unanswered questions floating around in that head of yours, Mason, and that’s not good. You need closure from your childhood, and this will help, I think. Don’t be scared of being hurt. Be scared of not being able to feel anymore.”

  Part of me was hoping she would give me an out and tell me it was okay not to go see my mom. But I know that if I chose not to, I would always wonder. And always wondering seems worse than not knowing for sure.

  “Thanks, Grams. I needed to hear that,” I say, leaning over to wrap my arms around her, noting again how frail she seems. My heart is breaking, and I have to mentally tell myself not to get upset right now.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on at the bistro,” Grams says, one hand grasping my arm.

  We pass the time, talking about life. Dad walks in an hour later and joins the conversation, his eyes lighting up as he talks about the new coffee shop. The room grows darker as the day comes to a close. Checking my watch, I see that I’ve been here for three hours, and it’s late.

  Shit.

  “I’ve got to go. I told Jules I would pick dinner up, and it’s already after eight,” I say, leaning down to kiss Grams on the cheek and then shaking Dad’s hand. “I’ll see you at the bistro tomorrow?”

  “No, I’ll be here until Mom gets to leave,” he tells me.

  I nod. “Okay, I’ll keep everyone in line,” I say and pull my phone out as I walk out the door.

  Shooting off a quick text to Jules, asking what she wants to eat, I climb into the truck. My life has changed so much in a few short weeks. I’m now spending time at the hospital and picking up dinner for my pregnant girlfriend.

  Is she my girlfriend? Maybe we need to have that conversation when I get back to the apartment.

  I knock, watching my breath in the freezing air as I shuffle, willing Jules to open the door. Finally, I hear the lock turn, and it swings open. Her smiling face greets me as I stand there with the greasy fast-food bags, and my breath catches in my throat. Meeting Jules has been a wild ride, but I’m glad I did. I’m glad I’m here now, and I can’t help but think that, oddly, this pregnancy has been a good thing to happen to both of us. I finally step through the door when I see her rubbing her arms and set the food down on the table.

  “It smells delicious. I’m starving,” she says, sitting down and dragging a bag to her.

  I watch her dig around, her eyes focused, and when she brings the first bite of a French fry to her mouth, my tongue darts out to trace my lip as if I could taste her on me. Shaking my head, I sit across from her and open the second bag.

  “How’s Grams?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as she eats another fry.

  “She’s good, her usual cheery self,” I say with a grin. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Go for it,” Jules says around a mouthful of burger.

  I’m honestly enjoying watching this display of unashamed pigging out that’s going on in front of me.

  “What are we?” I just decide to lay it out there and see what she says.

  She softly lays the burger back on the wrapper and then takes a sip of her drink, her brows drawn together. “Wha
t do you think we are?” she asks cautiously.

  I laugh. “Nope. I asked you first.” I lean back and cross my arms, displaying a smirk but not feeling very confident on the inside.

  “I guess we are together—brought together by this baby. I mean, I’m not going to be seeing anyone else right now, and I’m hoping you aren’t either. So, maybe we are kind of exclusive in a weird way? That is, if you want to be,” she rambles on, staring at the food in front of her as she folds the edge of the burger wrapper back and forth.

  I reach across the table and grab her hand. The feel of her soft skin beneath mine causes me to rub my thumb back and forth just to touch every part of her skin that I can.

  “I think I want to explore being exclusive with you,” I say, surprising myself and her, if the look on her face is any indication.

  She swallows and nods. Then, she sucks her bottom lip in, nervously chewing on it.

  “I want to take you on a date. A real date where you dress up and I pick you up and we just take the time to get to know each other, outside of everything going on.”

  “I’d like that,” she says, ducking her head down before peeking back up at me.

  “It’s a date then,” I say, bringing her hand up and lightly brushing it against my lips.

  27

  Jules

  Mason is on shift today for twenty-four hours, so I busy myself at the bistro, watching the guys work and giving input. I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this.

  I woke up this morning to a note on the pillow beside me, and I couldn’t help but grin like a fool as I read it.

  Can’t wait to see the stars in your eyes. Tomorrow at six p.m. Wear a dress and heels. (I know you are rolling your eyes, and I swear, I’m not being sexist. I just think you look nice in a dress and heels.)

  “Jules!”

  I look up to see Hanna breezing through the front door, Luke perched on her hip and a big smile on her face. I push the chair across from me out with my foot, and she plops down into it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you have a date?” she says, blowing a wayward hair out of her face as she deposits Luke in the high chair a waitress set at our table.

  “News travels fast, I see.”

  “Ezra says Mason is practically giddy. I think he’s getting a lot of ribbing from the guys.”

  “Don’t forget I’ve seen Ezra with that love-struck look on his face,” I say, pointing at her.

  “Are you saying, you and Mason are in love?” Hanna raises her eyebrows, her eyes going wide.

  “Well … no. We aren’t, but we are trying to create a relationship that’s not based on sex or a baby. I’m looking forward to it, strangely.”

  Right then, a waitress stops at our table, and Hanna orders a coffee.

  “I don’t think that’s strange at all. You both need to find yourselves in each other. Especially for the child. It doesn’t need to grow up how I did.” Hanna’s face drops, and I know she’s thinking about all the time she spent listening to her parents fight. “The shop looks like it’s coming along,” Hanna says, looking around at the construction going on.

  “It is. I’m excited to see how it turns out,” I say.

  My life is finally starting to come together a little bit. Mason and I might not have had a conventional start to our relationship, and I thought he was a jerk, but there are lots of little things he’s done that show his true character and make me realize that the whole jerky, tough guy act is just that—an act.

  “So, what are you wearing for the date?” Hanna asks.

  And we pass the next hour by giggling like we are in high school again over boys and love. Or what could be love …

  I haven’t seen Mason in a day and a half, and I find myself surprisingly looking forward to seeing his face again. I’m pacing in the kitchen as I wait for him to pick me up for our date. I’ve chewed my fingernails down to nubs, and I press a hand to my chest to keep the butterflies rolling around in my stomach from making a quick exit.

  A thump on the door makes me jump. I stop at the table to grab my purse and jacket and take a deep breath. Swinging the door open, I look at Mason, who is sporting a sexy grin that shows off his dimple, and he’s taken effort to style his hair where it doesn’t look so disheveled.

  I let my gaze travel down, lingering on his button-down shirt that he’s rolled up on his arms, tucked into black slim-fit pants, and I admire the way he fills each part of his clothing out.

  “Take a picture. It will last longer,” he says in his deep voice.

  I bring my eyes back up to his, and a genuine smile lights up his face.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, blushing. “I was just—”

  “No need to apologize for checking me out. You know how to make a guy feel sexy. Speaking of sexy … damn.”

  “Oh, hush,” I say through a huge smile.

  We are acting like teenagers, and I love it. I step through the door and turn to lock it behind me, feeling Mason’s eyes on me the whole time. I wore my favorite dress—deep red with a keyhole in the front that shows a flash of cleavage but not too much. It flares out at my waist and stops a few inches above my knees. It’s a subtle sexy, but I knew he would appreciate it.

  “Where are we going?” I ask once we are in his truck.

  “It’s a surprise,” he says, darting a look over at me, the appreciation still evident.

  I let myself drink him in as he drives, keeping comfortable conversation until we pull up at our destination.

  “The planetarium?” I raise my eyebrows as he opens my door, taking my hand while I step out.

  “My dad knows the owner. Called in a favor. Just wait until you see inside.”

  He keeps his grip on my hand as we walk up to the building, and he produces a key, opening a side door and ushering me through. I look around at the room we are in, dark and shadowed. The only light is by a table set up in the very middle of the room, and Mason walks me toward it.

  “Is this where you murder me in the dark after we have a nice dinner?” I joke.

  He grins. “Nah, I wouldn’t feed you dinner if I was going to murder you.”

  I smile. “Maybe we shouldn’t joke about murder on our date,” I tell him as he pulls one of the chairs out, and I sink into it.

  “Noted.”

  He drops into the chair across from me, and we stare at each other for a breath before I pull my gaze away to look around. I can’t see much because it’s dark, so I bring my gaze back to him and the table. He’s typing on his phone for a second, and then he looks up at me, a smirk in place. All of a sudden, the place is awash in little pinpricks of light that scatter and bounce off the glasses on the table in front of us. I look up, my mouth open as I take in the night sky, each constellation bright and glittering.

  “I wanted to see your face in the starlight,” he says, looking at me and not at the beautiful display around us.

  Who is this Mason, and where has he been the entire time I’ve known him?

  “It’s beautiful,” I say in a breathy whisper, still glancing around at the man-made stars.

  “Just like you,” he whispers back, his gaze still on me.

  This is the nicest date I’ve ever been on, and the fact that I’m here with Mason blows my mind a little. I clear my throat.

  “Right, um … thank you.” I give him a tentative smile, and then I have the sudden urge to break the sexual tension and start a conversation, so I don’t erupt into flames on my side of the table. “Tell me more about you, Mason. It’s only right that I get to know the father of my child.”

  I rest a hand on my belly, and his eyes follow my gesture but get snagged on the keyhole of my dress. I squirm a little, and he jerks his eyes back up to me while shifting in his seat.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about growing up with Grams. I can’t imagine her being any less of a spitfire.”

  That prompts a chuckle from him, and I clench my hands in my lap while I listen to the deep, masc
uline tone wash over me.

  “She had me from about three to fourteen when my dad came back and got his act together. She had a hand in who I am today. Which you might not think is great but I could be so much worse,” he says with a sheepish look on his face.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I might have had a little to do with that,” I tell him, holding my finger and thumb up close together.

  “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.” Another chuckle bursts out of his sexy chest. “Anyway, I was a little wild, both as a boy and as a teenager. I know it’s hard to imagine with how steady and sure-footed I am now.”

  He rolls his eyes, and I laugh, enjoying this playful side of him. The butterflies from earlier are now on a roller coaster ride and knocking against the inside of my stomach every chance they get.

  We are interrupted by a waitress who appears from a side door, wheeling a cart in and laying salads in front of us before filling our glasses with water. She produces a bottle from the wine bucket, and my eyes go wide before I see that it’s sparkling grape juice. I can’t help but beam across the table at Mason. He has thought of everything.

  “I distinctly remember, as a boy—well, I was probably around thirteen—I was suspended for fighting at school. Grams sat me down, and I expected her to ream me out, but instead, she was completely calm. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before she finally talked. She told me that she sensed I had a lot of anger and that it was eating me from the inside out. I needed to figure out an outlet to help me with it before it destroyed me. She said I had no control over what my parents had done and that being angry about it wasn’t hurting them, only me. To this day, I can still recall the conversation word for word and the emotions it brought out in me. She probably didn’t intend for me and some friends to start a fighting ring at an apartment complex after that,” he says, pointing to the side of his mouth where the small scar I noticed the first time we met rests. “But I knew she had my back. She’s the one person who has always been there for me and cared for me, and I’m so terrified of losing her.” He stops talking and lets out a deep breath.