Caught Up In Raine

by L. G. O'Connor

  She licks her lips and swallows. “Raine . . . I’m afraid,” she whispers.

  My expression feels as heavy and pained as hers. “Of what? Of me?”

  “No. Raine, you don’t understand. I’m afraid that the next time I’m sitting here like this—in mourning—it will be when I lose you.”

  My mouth drops open, and I stare, weighing her words. Could she possibly feel that much for me already? Could she feel what I feel? Crazy, I know, but my heart hasn’t beat this fast for anyone . . . ever, and the thought of not being with her sucks the air from my lungs.

  “If I get a taste of you,” she says, “I’m afraid that I’ll get so caught up in you that I might lose myself.” Tears well in her eyes, and my chest constricts. “I don’t know if I can handle that. You have your whole life ahead of you . . . . Eventually, you’ll want to find someone younger to spend your life with.”

  She tucks her head back on my chest.

  “No, look at me.” Gently, I tip up her chin. “I’m not that shallow, and I’m not just passing through, Jillian. I want you, don’t you get that? I’m not planning an exit. I’m willing to let this take us wherever it leads. I’m here for you, and I want to prove myself to you, but I’m not going to beg, Jillian. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. But I’m warning you, I won’t hold back. I’m going to give it all I have . . . everything. Because we’re worth that, and I want you to do the same. If you can’t, then I want to just stay friends. It’ll kill me, but I’ll do it. If that’s what you want. Just promise you won’t push me away.”

  She gives me a weak smile. “That was some speech.”

  I run my fingers over her sea-blown hair. “I meant every word. I know it’s impossible to promise never to hurt someone, but I know I’d do anything I could to avoid hurting you. If your age bothered me even a fraction of how much it bothers you, I wouldn’t be pursuing you . . . us.”

  She brushes her finger over my bottom lip. “Is that what you’re doing? Pursuing me?”

  I throw my head back on the pillow propped up behind me. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m kidding.” She chuckles and kisses me lightly on the lips before pulling away. “Thank you . . . for being here and for sharing your story with me. And for listening to mine.” She moves to get up, and I wrap my hand around her arm.

  “Where are you going?”

  Sadness returns to her eyes. “Shower and then to bed. I have to leave early to make it to the funeral home by ten.”

  “What time should we leave?”

  She touches my cheek. “You can stay here if you’d like, and then go to class.”

  My brow tightens. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  Her eyes soften. “No. I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “I already told you. I want to be there for you,” I say, and my voice goes quiet. “Unless that’s not what you want.” Grief is a funny, but individual, thing. If it were me, I would want her there. Maybe she’s different.

  “Be ready at eight,” she says and kisses the tip of my nose. “We’ll pack everything up and you can follow me back to Chatham.” She crawls off me and heads to the door.

  “Jillian?”

  She turns.

  “Please don’t be afraid of me. Promise you’ll give us a chance?”

  She nods and disappears through the doorway. It takes all my willpower not to get up and follow her again. I wish we were at the point where I was an invited guest in her bed. Instead of her heading to the shower alone, I’d be with her. Afterward, we would slip naked between the cool sheets, and I’d hold her in my arms all night after we made love.

  For whatever its worth, that’s my idea of Heaven.

  Chapter 24

  Jillian

  “SO WE CAN PICK up the ashes on Wednesday?” Kitty confirms with the funeral director while I sit silently next to her, clutching a damp, balled-up tissue.

  I can’t bear to look at him. I can’t believe the last time I sat here was two years ago; it feels like yesterday. I zone out as Kitty talks through the logistics of the wake which will be held on Saturday. Per Aunt Vera’s very specific orders:

  My wake shall be no longer than one hour in length and done for those who must stare at my dead corpse for closure. Personally, I’d skip if I could get away with it. So for Heaven’s sake, don’t make people go. I’d much prefer those I love to attend the memorial service to celebrate my life. I also kindly request that someone is designated to have a drink for me, make that two, before my ashes are cast into the sea.

  I almost chuckle inappropriately when Kitty reads it aloud, hearing Aunt Vera’s irreverent tone in my head. Vera hated funerals almost as much as I do. She couldn’t bring herself to be buried in the ground, turning to “worm food,” as she liked to call it. Vera wanted a memorial service at her church, and then for her ashes to be spread into the ocean which she loved so dearly. Kitty and I already decided the service would be held the following Saturday. Afterward, we’ll transport her ashes down to Spring Lake as a family.

  I move through the rest of the appointment in a fog and feel guilty that I’ve allowed Kitty to bear most of the burden. But that’s always been the nature of our relationship. I defer to her as my strength and pillar—the child to her mother.

  “Thank you. I guess we’re all set. See you at one o’clock on Saturday,” Kitty says, and stands. I mindlessly follow suit. The funeral director leads us out of his office. We each shake his hand, and then Kitty hooks her arm through mine as we exit to the parking lot.

  “Is this ever going to stop?” I ask Kitty, not really expecting a reply.

  She squeezes my arm. “It’s an inevitable part of life, sweetie. You’ve just had more than your fair share for your age. Will you come back to Vera’s to pick out an outfit and some pictures with me?”

  I’m torn. I want to, but I don’t want to. My emotions are a big, tangled mess inside me. I’m desperate to crawl away from my grief and focus on something with a spark of promise. I find myself craving my next moment with Raine, wanting to curl up in his arms and take shelter from the world. But I realize how selfish it is to saddle him with my sorrow and use his strength as my own. I’m fully aware that my sadness makes me even more vulnerable to his charms and susceptible to making bad decisions. In truth, he’s really the last thing I need right now with Vera’s death and the deadline for my novel looming, but he’s the only thing I really want.

  Despite all that, I give Kitty the only right answer. “Of course I will.”

  In order to prevent Raine from driving me here and sitting in the car to wait, I promised him that I wouldn’t be gone too long. I’ll text him when I get to Vera’s and ask him to delay lunch.

  “I’ve scheduled the clean-out for after the memorial service,” Kitty says, “so you have a while to decide if there’s anything you want.”

  “Thanks.” I have a copy of the will in my files at home; I already know she left me a painting of the ocean—which I plan to hang at the shore house—and a small bit of money that I don’t need. There’s nothing more that I want, other than some family photographs.

  We stop at my car, and I take Kitty into a tight hug. “Thank you for everything. I wish I had your strength.”

  Kitty pulls back and looks at me aghast with her warm, chocolate-brown eyes. “Jillian, you’re one of the strongest people I know. You inspire me. Strength isn’t your issue, sweetie; trusting and giving yourself credit is.”

  My lips part in surprise. I never knew she felt that way. “I don’t feel strong.”

  She nods. “But you are. It’s one thing to lose parents, but I’ve watched you lose the only two men you’ve ever loved. Not only did you survive, but you’ve thrived. I sometimes don’t know how you’ve done it.”

  The truth is that I haven’t. I’ve hidden.

  I give her a weak smile. “Neither do I.”

  Within an hour, we’ve picked out a nice ocean-blue dress for Vera’s wake and r
ounded up a collage’s worth of pictures which Jenny will mount on poster board for us.

  I turn off the ignition in the garage, glad to be home. When I walk into the kitchen, I find Raine sitting at the island working on his laptop, and the smell of something delicious coming from the oven.

  He looks up and gets off the stool to greet me. “Hey, how did it go?”

  Wrapping me in his arms, he holds me inside his warmth. I vow never to tire of feeling his muscled chest next to mine. Energy seeps back into me, and as much as I want to stay locked inside his embrace, I push away and eye the oven. “What are you making?”

  He smiles. “Comfort food. We’re breaking the diet for today. Homemade mac ’n’ cheese.”

  My stomach reacts with a grumble. “Yum.”

  He sits back down in front of his laptop and picks up the timer. “Ten more minutes.”

  My deadline niggles at me. “I’m going to head to my office. Come get me if I’m not back by then, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I move to leave.

  “Jillian?”

  I turn back to him. “Hmm?”

  He swallows, and tension works its way into his shoulders. “No pressure, but did you still want to go on our date Friday night? With everything . . . you know. If not, the bar called and asked me if I wanted to take some extra hours.”

  For a fraction of a second, I wonder if he’s having second thoughts before I realize he might be having financial concerns. “Yes, I still want to keep our date for Friday night . . . but I’ll understand if you need to make some extra money.”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy and smiles. “Over a date with you? No way.”

  My heart flutters, and warmth fills my chest. “Then it’s confirmed. You and me. Date. Friday night.”

  I leave him in the kitchen and fire up my laptop in my office. I study my outline and sit paralyzed until Raine brings me a steaming bowl of his macaroni and cheese.

  “I thought you were going to call me?”

  He shrugs. “I figured this would be easier.” He hovers over me, waiting until I take a bite. I blow on my first spoonful. My taste buds ignite when it reaches my tongue. “Holy crap! This is the best mac ’n’ cheese I’ve ever tasted.” I shovel in another spoonful while trying not to burn the roof of my mouth.

  His face lights up with delight, and he leans in to kiss the top of my head. “Enjoy. I have to leave early to meet my project group.” There’s worry in his eyes when he steps back to look at me. “Will you be okay tonight?”

  I smile. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. See you when you get home.”

  “’Kay,” he says, and disappears through the doorway.

  My fingers sit immobile on the keyboard. Becca and Drew have gone silent in my head. Ever since Raine’s comments they’ve stopped talking to me. I resist the urge to panic. The road to finishing this first draft suddenly looks a hell of a lot longer.

  Dammit. I should have never let Raine see those pages.

  I stare at the blank screen and sigh. Since my characters refuse to speak to me, I’ll tap into my personal well of grief. Maybe it’s time to write the scene where Becca loses Drew. If Kitty’s right, then I’ll have the strength to get it onto the page. And if I get stuck, all I have to do is think about losing Raine, and the words should come.

  Chapter 25

  Jillian

  “OH, HELL, NO,” I hear from behind me.

  I turn away from the mirror to see Raine striding through the doorway, looking mouthwatering with his hair sweeping down to his shoulders and wearing black tailored dress slacks, a silky button-down, and leather loafers. His face is almost completely healed with only a faint shadow around his eye.

  “What?” I glance down at my outfit—a peasant skirt, a flowing top, and high-heeled sandals. He passes me and enters my closet. I hear him flipping through the hangers, and my face screws into a frown. “What are you doing?”

  He pops his head out and holds up a short skirt. “I’ve waited an eternity to take you on a date. Can you please take pity on me and show some leg?”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “You seriously don’t want me to answer that question.” He tosses the skirt onto the bed, and disappears back into my closet.

  “Hey! Get out of my closet!”

  He emerges with a pair of superhigh heels and a clingy top and tosses them onto the bed on top of the skirt. The shoes were an impulse purchase five years ago . . . for bedroom use only. Before Robert was diagnosed with ED when we were willing to try anything.

  I plant my hands on my hips. “Are you nuts?”

  He wraps his arms around me, pulls me close, and lays a kiss on my nose. “Yes, about you. Now, will you please put on something that doesn’t resemble a potato sack?”

  The blue of his eyes shines, and I melt against the hard planes of his chest, resting my pelvis against his. A smile escapes me. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  “I do.”

  “Modest, too.”

  “Totally.”

  I eye the clothes on the bed and release a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure any of those fit.” I give him a mischievous look and kiss his bottom lip. “By the way, those shoes aren’t meant for going out in public.”

  A deep chuckle rises from his throat, and he puts lips to my ear. “I guess that’s why they call them ‘fuck-me’ heels,” he whispers and nips my earlobe.

  A rush of warmth floods my core. Maybe we should skip dinner.

  With a good-natured grin, I push him away. “Get out and let me change.”

  He grins back and closes the door behind him.

  I look at the bed again and shake my head. Crap. I’ll look like I belong on a street corner. I pass the bed, scoop up the shoes, and head back into my closet. I swap the bedroom heels for ones that are sexy, but slightly lower, and decide I can live with the skirt and top. Luckily, they fit.

  After a three-sixty in front of the mirror, I pluck a thong from my underwear drawer and trade it for my bikinis. I smile, glad that I’m still smooth down below from the Brazilian.

  Another glance in the mirror. Better. Actually, not half bad, and no panty lines. My legs have some color from lying out over the summer, so I skip the pantyhose.

  I fluff my hair and give it a good shake.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Jillian, we need to leave if we’re going to make our reservation.”

  “I’m almost ready.” I yell through the door. “Be out in a sec.”

  With a deep breath, I open the door.

  Raine fills the doorway and his eyes widen. “Wow! Now that does you justice.” He reaches out to me. “Come on.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask. He’s been tight-lipped about our destination, refusing to tell me even with my incessant prodding. I’m glad I insisted on keeping our date. Being with him is the only thing that makes me feel alive lately.

  “Be patient. It’s a surprise.”

  He drives my car, and we park in the center of Morristown. He escorts me into Roots, an upscale steak house. It’s dark and clubby inside. I’m touched, but also concerned that he’s spending so much on dinner. I’ve been here many times, and it’s not inexpensive.

  He holds the door open for me and then gives the hostess his name.

  She smiles pretty at him, sending a shiver of jealousy over my skin. We follow her to a table for two.

  Raine holds my chair out for me, and the waitress leaves us with two large one-page menus.

  He rubs his hands together nervously. “Is this good?”

  I smile, and reach my hand across the table. He takes it in his and I give him a squeeze. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  He beams at me. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to take you somewhere nice for our first real date.”

  The servers approach; one is introduced to take care of our drinks, and the other for food.

  “Would you like a bottle of wine?” he asks and glances at the menu.
We settle on a Shiraz and our servers fade away with our order.

  I lean forward and fold my arms on the table. “Is this where we ask each other first date stuff?”

  He grins. “Makes it a little hard when we already know hundredth date stuff about each other.”

  “There’s got to be something you’d like to know.”

  He gazes into my eyes and gives me a sexy grin. “There’s definitely one thing, but I’m hoping I find that out later.”

  His words make me quiver. I confess, I’ve reached the limit of our flirtation. I’m dying to run my hands and my tongue over his naked body so much that I can almost taste the delicate skin at the base of his neck.

  “Besides that,” I say.

  He hesitates for a moment then leans forward. “If this is too personal, you don’t have to answer it. Is there any reason you and Robert didn’t have kids?”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat and arch a brow. “Can’t we start with something easy, like my favorite color?”

  “I said you don’t have to answer it if it’s too personal,” he says coupled with a look of innocence.

  Since I plan to strip naked for him later, too personal isn’t the issue. “It’s not so much that . . . it’s complicated,” I say.

  His eyes spark with interest. “How so? Did you want them and he didn’t, or something like that?”

  I shake my head. For the first time, I wonder about Raine’s expectations. Silly that I didn’t think of it sooner, I know. But part of me doubted we would even get this far. “No. I . . .” The words get caught in my throat, so I clear it. “ . . . couldn’t.”

  “Oh,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I guess it wasn’t very sensitive of me to ask.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the server chooses that moment to come and pour our wine. We each glance briefly at the menu and give the food server our orders. I opt for a salad and salmon, even though it’s a steak house, and Raine chooses a NY strip.