All In (Cedar Mountain University #2)

by Ann Garner

  “Scoot back. Lay down. I’m going to change, and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  When I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he’s sound asleep on top of the covers. Watching him for a moment, my heart breaks a little more for him.

  That’s a lot to carry around inside of one person.

  I move quietly across the room, flipping the lamp off right before I crawl into the bed next to him. I scoot up next to him, wrapping my arms around him before pressing a kiss against his back. I press my forehead against the skin I’d just kissed, closing my eyes.

  I want to help him, but I’m not sure how.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. And not just because the core of the holiday centers around food. Though that doesn’t hurt. To me, Thanksgiving is more a time to be surrounded by family, and less concerned with presents. Not that I don’t love a good present either.

  Now that I’m in college, it doesn’t hurt that I get a week off before I have to start to worry about finals. Of course Delaney had already started studying, which is equally inspiring and nauseating. Last year during Thanksgiving she’d shut us out. This year the three days that were going to bring her to her knees are next week, and I don’t think any of us are really prepared for what’s coming.

  I love coming home. It’s like getting wrapped up in a warm blanket of everything familiar. The house I’d grown up in always smells faintly like lemon, along with the heady scent of whatever wonderful concoction my mother had recently baked. Waking up this morning, it was the tantalizing scent of freshly baked banana nut bread that was wafting through the house.

  Sliding from under the covers, I grab a sweatshirt out of my bag, tossing it on before heading out of the room, and down the stairs. I hear the radio playing softly, already the sound of Christmas filling the house when Thanksgiving had barely just begun. My mother adores Christmas music, and is known to bust it out in the middle of July when the mood strikes her.

  Rounding the corner into the kitchen I pull up short at the sight of her. Studying her, I couldn’t help but think of Donna Reed. She wears a pale blue dress covered with a white frilly apron that she is currently drying her hands on. The image is only tarnished by her bare feet, and the haphazard bun her ink black hair was mostly falling out of. She is humming absently to a jazz version of Frosty the Snowman while slicing the bread I’d smelled earlier.

  “Good morning, Grace.” She greets without even turning around. When I was younger I’d thought she was magic, to be able to know when I came into the kitchen behind her without even looking. Now I understood that she saw my reflection in the window above the sink.

  “Morning, Mama.” I shuffle sleepily into the room. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She hands me a plate with a slice of the freshly baked bread, smiling as she shakes her head. “I’m good for the moment. You can make us both a cup of hot chocolate though.”

  I set the bread on the table before moving over to the Keurig she’d gotten last year for Christmas. I tuck one of the little cups into the machine before flipping it closed. She always drank from the coffee mug that Holden had made her in art class, his sophomore year of high school. It was the ugliest damn cup ever, but she had used it faithfully since he had given it to her.

  After making both our cups of hot chocolate I settle at the small breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen. She fusses over a few things she already has going on the stove, adjusting the temperature of the oven in preparation for whatever it is she’s going to cook next, and then finally comes and sits with me at the table.

  “Well, Gracie Lou, tell me a tale.”

  I smile, taking a sip of my steaming hot chocolate. “What would you like to hear?”

  “How are classes?”

  “They’re classes.” I say with a shrug of one shoulder. “And thankfully this semester is almost over.”

  “Have you given any thought to your major? Your father and I don’t want to push, but you’re running out of time to declare since you’re burning through the core courses.”

  “I actually have thought about it.”

  “And?”

  I pop a piece of bread into my mouth, savoring the taste. I haven’t spoken my thoughts out loud to anyone, and putting them out there makes it real. “Public Relations.”

  She doesn’t look nearly as surprised as I thought she would. In fact her eyes crinkle at the corner as she smiles, reaching one hand across the table to lay it on my arm. “I think that is an excellent choice, Grace.”

  I let out a small huff of air. “Really? Because I’m only like seventy percent sure I’ll be even half way decent.”

  Her hand tightens briefly on my arm. “I think you’ll be excellent at anything you put your mind to, sweetheart.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  I tap my fingers idly along the table top while I try to come up with a way to ask what I really want to know.

  “Do you think it’s been enough time for me to get over Grant?”

  Now I’ve surprised her. Her eyes widen before she leans back in her chair, taking her ugly mug full of hot chocolate with her.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I’ve met someone else.”

  “Ah.” She nods her head. “I see.” She’s quiet for a moment, sipping her hot chocolate while watching me. “Do you think it’s been enough time?”

  I can’t help but groan. “Don’t do that, Mama. Please.”

  “Grace, I can’t answer that question for you.”

  “Mama.” I whine. “That’s not helpful.”

  The oven beeps, indicating it’s heated to the appropriate temperature. She pushes back from the table, moving quickly across the room and putting our traditional Thanksgiving breakfast casserole into the oven.

  Without turning she says, “You were infatuated with Grant Michaels from the moment you met him.”

  “I was in love with him.”

  “No, baby. No you weren’t.”

  “Are you saying I didn’t love him?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. She washes her hands in the sink, drying them on the white apron again as she turns to lean against the counter. “That’s not what I’m saying. I think you do love him, Grace. I just don’t think you were ever in love with him. I love Grant like he’s my own, but he isn’t the one for you, Gracie Lou. He never was.”

  Shocked doesn’t even come close to describe what I’m feeling. I know my mouth has dropped open as I look at her. Shaking her head she moves across the kitchen again, sitting right next to me. “You let yourself get lost in the romance of it all. The little girl crush that you built into love in your mind. Don’t look at me like that, baby. I know you loved him. I know he hurt you. Just as I know you’re going to find the right person, the one you’re really going to fall in love with. It’s going to be beautiful, Grace. It’s going to be the most wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. And it’s going to hurt like hell. Because love is a bitch. It’s the most painful thing you’ll ever feel, just as it is without a doubt the most exhilarating feeling in the world.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything? If you didn’t think he was right for me?”

  “Because what I say shouldn’t matter. It’s what you feel that’s important.” She takes another long drink of hot chocolate before saying, “You’ve always been strong willed, Grace. From the moment you were born you wanted to forge your own path. Your father and I would tell you the sky was blue and you’d argue the point every time.” Smiling softly she adds, “You never had a problem saying exactly what you were feeling or thinking, sometimes to your detriment or at the expense of others.”

  I swallow down my cry of indignation. I know everything she’s saying is the truth. I’m not always a nice person, I hold grudges for way to long over the stupidest shit, and more often than not I don’t think about anyone’s feelings before opening my mouth. Hell,
usually I have no idea what I’m going to say before the words are already coming out and it’s too late to pull them back.

  “When you were little, it was so cute how much you idolized your brothers. We thought it was the sweetest thing that you would follow them around, and mimic them. You were sixteen before I realized that you didn’t have any real friends that were girls and that you spent all of your time with the boys. You wanted to be as tough as them, and as brash and bold.” She takes another drink, watching me carefully.

  I fiddle with my coffee cup for a moment, twisting it left and right. “I met someone else.” I say again. She arches one brow in response. “You have feelings for this new guy, and you’re worried because you don’t think it’s been long enough since Grant?”

  “It’s not just that.” I tell her softly, running one finger around the rim of my coffee cup and not meeting her gaze. “He’s a nice guy, Mama. Like a really nice guy. With Grant, I never worried that I wasn’t good enough, but now? And Jacob makes me feel….” I’m not quite sure how to describe it exactly. “Jesus, Mama he makes me feel. Things I’ve never felt before and it terrifies the hell out of me.”

  “Did Grant ever terrify you?”

  I shake my head. “No. He made me feel safe. And cared for.”

  “Both important things.”

  “But I was attracted to Grant. We, ah, huh.”

  My mother smirks. “Grace, I’m perfectly aware that you and Grant had sex. Just as I know both of your brothers have as well. None of you are nearly as clever at hiding things as you think you are.”

  I clear my throat, suddenly very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. She just pats my arm. “We don’t need to go into details, but being attracted to him doesn’t change anything, Grace. I’m attracted to other men all the time, but it doesn’t detract from how much I love your father.”

  My nose wrinkles in response. “Gross, Mama. Let’s change topics. I can’t discuss sex with you. Or your attraction to dad or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Your Mother is incredibly hot for me.” My dad steps into the kitchen, heading straight to the banana nut bread. “Can’t keep her hands off of me.”

  “Oh. My. God. Please stop talking. I’m going to have to bleach my brain to get rid of these images.”

  “What images?” Cole stumbles into the room, tugging on Delaney’s hand to bring her with him. She’s still a little unsure in the family setting. I’m sure to an outsider we’re a lot to handle.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Apparently Grace doesn’t think your mother and I have a sex life.”

  “Oh, God.” I drop my head into my hands. “How did this conversation go so horribly wrong?”

  “It’s not like we don’t know that you have a sex life.” He points out pleasantly.

  “Jesus.” Holden says, coming in alone. Ally is spending the day with her family and won’t be by until tonight. “Can we make a deal that the word sex is not to be said by anyone in this house for the rest of the week?”

  “Here, here.” I put in quickly. “No more sex talk.”

  “As long as we don’t ban actual sex, I think we’re good.” My dad winks, and I swear I throw up just a little in my mouth.

  “Can somebody please, for the love of all things holy, come up with a new topic?”

  “Grace has decided on a major.”

  Everyone turns to look at me. Suddenly I’m desperate for the damn sex talk again. Flushing, I say, “It really isn’t that big of a deal. We all knew I was going to have to pick one eventually, right?”

  “Well?” Cole demands. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”

  “Grace wants to study Public Relations.”

  “That’s great, baby.” Dad kisses the top of my head as he settles into a chair next to me. “I think that’s perfect for you.”

  “I agree.” Delaney says with a timid smile. “I think you’ll be great, Grace.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I still have to get the actual degree, and we all know how much I despise school.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sneaking into Jacob’s room while he’s sleeping is starting to become a habit. Setting down the bag of leftovers my mother hadn’t let me leave without I watch him shift on the bed. The blankets covering him shift right along with him, and once again I’m treated to the sight of washboard abs and lean hips along with the hint of something more.

  Seriously, who needed coffee to start their day?

  I’d much rather have a naked Jacob.

  Nothing sounds better than pulling the blanket back and crawling in next to him. Probably a little presumptuous of me. He hadn’t made a move on me the night of the charity event when we shared a hotel room. Of course, the evening hadn’t exactly ended on a happy note. The next morning when we woke up it was like nothing had ever happened. It was like he hadn’t confided in me, because there had been no conversation about football, his mother or his sister, or any conversation that might remotely lead to those topics.

  We’d slid seamlessly back into the same relationship as before. Only this time there had been kissing involved. A hell of a lot of kissing.

  But nothing beyond kissing.

  I’m not sure how to get him to let me in, not all the way in. I’d had the same problem with Grant. He’d kept things bottled up inside of him and I hadn’t wanted to push. With Jacob I knew I was going to do everything I could to get all the way in. Because somewhere along the way that had become the only place I really wanted to be.

  There were just a couple more weeks until winter break, and those two weeks would be packed with studying, finals, and Delaney.

  I still hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to explain my needing to disappear for three days right before finals. We’d seen each other every day for the last several weeks, even if for just a short amount of time, so it was going to be pretty obvious that I wasn’t available.

  Luckily for me, that was a worry for another day.

  I don’t crawl under the covers with him, as tempting as it is, but settle down on the bed next to his hip. I tuck a strand of wayward hair behind my ear, chewing on my lower lip as I watch him for a few moments. Shifting again in his sleep the blankets are pulled slightly lower across his hips. Hello beautiful V of muscle.

  How many hours does one have to spend in the gym to make that particular muscle appear?

  Whatever the length of time, it was worth it, that’s for damn sure.

  Almost of their own accord, my fingers reach out and brush against the smooth taunt skin of his stomach. They dance lightly over the ridge of muscle, slipping and sliding over the crevices of skin. This time when his fingers circle my wrist, I’m not the least bit surprised. I tilt my head back enough so that my eyes can lock with his.

  “Good morning, Jacob.”

  A smirk kicks up one side of his mouth, causing his dimple to flash. “It certainly is,” He tells me, his voice still rough with sleep. I shift, moving enough so I can lean up and make my mouth level with his, never breaking eye contact with him.

  “You’re back early,” He says, his fingers squeezing softly around my wrist.

  “Could be I missed you.” I inch just a little bit closer. “Possibly.” A little closer. “Maybe.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Smiling, I finally move close enough so that my lips touch his. “I said possibly.”

  “Let’s see what we can do to make that a definite.”

  I make some sort of sound of agreement low in my throat, but there’s no chance to form words because his mouth is moving over mine. Quite honestly, I don’t want to say anything else. His tongue licks along the seam of my lips, teasing them open so that he can invade my mouth. Words seem like a waste of time after that.

  His hands move up, fingers delving into my hair, as he pulls me even closer. Sighing, I let myself sink against him. The heat from his body seeps into my mine, mingling with the flash of heat that is already burning i
nside.

  Those wonderful hands of his move from my hair, sliding down over the back of my neck, down my back, and up under the edge of my sweatshirt. He isn’t touching bare skin; his fingers are hindered by the tank top I had pulled on that morning. An action I was hugely regretting now.

  I want the brush of his fingers against my skin. Flesh against flesh. I want it more than anything else I can think of. Pulling away from him, I yank at my sweatshirt, pulling it up and over my head to toss it on the floor behind me. When I lean back into him, drawing his lips into another hot kiss, I can’t help the small groan of satisfaction I emit as his fingers finally slide under the tank, brushing against the small of my back. His lips tilt up into another smile against mine at the sound.

  “I’d say we’re quickly closing in on definitely.”

  His mouth moves down along the column of my throat, and I feel my eyes cross. “Definitely what?” I ask on a gasp of breath. The vibrations his chuckle makes against my throat sends shockwaves of desire scrambling over every inch of my skin.

  His hands slide up my sides, pulling the thin tank up with him until the material is bunched under my arms, and my bare chest rubs against his. Pulling back far enough to provide room I lift my arms up, letting him finish sliding the material up and off my body.

  “You taste as good you smell.”

  I blink, “Um, what?”

  “Apricots. You always smell like apricots.” His mouth skims down my neck, over my collarbone, dipping into the pulse at the base of my throat. “Taste like it to.” He murmurs as his tongue slips out to slick across my skin.

  “Jacob.” I gasp out his name as his mouth moves south, slipping and sliding against my skin as he makes his way towards my breast. One of his hands comes up my back, tangling in the short length of my hair, and tipping my head back so that my body arches even more against his. “Please.”

  “Please what?”