by Dana Marton
Her gaze cleared; then her eyes focused on his. “I’m taking back this place. He can’t have my past, or my land, or my fear.”
One of her hands slipped down his front and went to his belt buckle.
He still couldn’t believe they were doing this. “Jess?”
“You think you’ll catch a cold?” She had the belt unbuckled in three seconds flat.
He scoffed. “Navy SEALs don’t get cold.”
“Good. I want you. Now. I don’t care if it’s in a snowbank.”
OK, she really did want this. His hormones fired off a twenty-one-gun salute. “I don’t think we need to go as far as a snowbank.”
He let her down, let her feet touch the ground, let her unwrap him and take him in hand. When he was ready to blow, he dropped to his knees. Then he unwrapped her, pants and panties pushed low enough so he could taste her.
When he looked up, her burning gaze met his. She was clutching his shoulders.
He grabbed her hips and went at her like he meant it. He wanted it all, her heat, her taste, her silk. He wanted her panting moans, and her desperation as her fingers dug into him through his coat.
“Now. Please,” she whispered, as he drove her to the very edge.
She trembled on the precipice, and he trembled right there with her, but he had to say, “I don’t have a condom,” his tone as rough as tree bark.
She pulled away and stumbled back a step. “Oh.” Her cheeks were flushed red as she reached to pull up her pants.
He stood up and closed the distance between them again. “No.” He glanced at the birch tree behind her, but didn’t want to scratch up her naked back. “Turn around and brace your hands on the tree.”
When she did, he reached for her hips and pulled them toward him until she was bent forward. Then he parted her legs as wide as her pants—halfway down her thighs—allowed. He surrounded her with his body from behind. One hand went to her breast, the other to the V of her thighs, slipping into her hot folds, finding her swollen nub with ease. He pressed down then eased up and rubbed tight little circles. Nothing had ever felt as good as Jess squirming in pleasure in his arms.
When her knees buckled, he held her tightly. “I have you, Jess.”
He pushed her over the edge, drawing out her pleasure as long as possible. And then he stayed there, enjoying her little panting breaths, the soft tremors that still ran through her body, the cloud of intimacy that surrounded them. His body still pounded with need, but more than the physical satisfaction, he needed this. This elemental connection was what he hadn’t allowed himself to miss for the past decade.
Jess.
His.
He kissed her nape, letting his lips linger on her hot skin, tasting her.
High above, in the branches, half a dozen crows watched. They could see both the prey and the hunter. This time, the hunter was far behind. This time, the hunter was watching through binoculars.
Chapter Nineteen
Monday
JESS TOOK THE hospital elevator up, a bag of oat raisin muffins in one hand, a tray of four cups of tea in the other. Sex with Derek in the woods the day before had been a kind of catharsis, but she wasn’t sure it’d been the catharsis she needed. The physical release had been sublime. Although, it had been one-sided. She felt guilty about that. All she had this morning were mixed feelings and a lot of questions. Had the physical intimacy solved anything? Or had it made everything more complicated?
Were they lovers now? No. That wasn’t the right word. Lovers implied a continued sexual relationship, and she had no plans to go in that direction right now. Even if the sex had been the best she’d ever had.
Her past had messed up her few previous attempts. She didn’t advertise her attack, but she’d always felt that before she slept with someone, she needed to come clean. Partially, because what if she had a flashback and freaked out? And also, because sex had always been a big deal to her. She wasn’t a casual type of girl. So if she got that far with someone, it meant they were in a relationship and the guy deserved the truth.
Knowing the truth, however, meant that men had often been tentative, almost scared to touch her, too careful, too soft, asking, Is this OK? Is this OK? Painfully aware, while all she wanted was a taste of mindless passion.
Derek had simply taken her in hand, as if nothing was wrong with her. As if he never for a moment doubted that she could take everything he had to give. He’d given her the mindless passion she craved. His primal, raw intimacies had made her fly apart under his hands. She grew hot all over just thinking about him.
So . . . sex did not solve everything. But . . . she wouldn’t have had sex with him if she didn’t think there was hope for the two of them. They would have to figure out together how to move forward from here.
Jess got off the elevator on her mother’s floor. She wanted to deliver her mother’s treats first and chat for a while before heading downstairs to see about Chuck. Zelda was with him. Kaylee was at school.
Her phone rang. Eliot.
“Hey,” she said. “How are things in LA?”
“A three-ring circus, like always,” he said. “I thought I’d check up on you. How are things there?”
“Mom is the same. Chuck had a heart attack.”
“For real? Anything I can do to help? How is he?”
“He’s OK. He’s getting good care.”
“Do you need to stay longer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do what you need to. Just let me know. I could reschedule shooting your scenes to be last on the new movie.”
“Thank you.”
“Jess . . .” He didn’t finish. Silence stretched between them.
She had a feeling he wanted to say something about how his visit turned out.
“I’m glad you came,” she said.
“I wanted to . . .” Another pause. “The way he looks at you . . .”
“I know.”
“It’s like I can almost see the link between the two of you. It wouldn’t have been right for me to try to get in the middle of that.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I think we have a link too, just a different kind of link.”
“Yes.”
“You call me if you need me for anything?”
“I’ll call you as soon as I know how long I’ll need to stay.”
They talked for a few seconds, then said goodbye.
Jess turned down the hospital hallway, hoping her mother would be awake.
Need to remember to ask about the diary. She’d kept the journal on and off from the third grade on—short notes, sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month.
For the past decade, when she’d thought about Taylorville, she thought only about her abduction. But there had been a whole childhood before that. Happy times. She wanted to read her diary to remind herself, to claim that part of her life back. She needed to find balance.
Find your balance had been her first stunt instructor’s mantra, said a hundred times during each training session. Like so many other things Jess had learned from stunts, the advice applied in real life as well.
She walked into her mother’s room and found her sleeping. A frown marred her forehead, as if something troubled her. Probably sugaring, now that Chuck too was in the hospital. Jess made a silent promise to try harder to reconnect.
She came to see her every day, but she rarely stayed longer than twenty minutes, thirty at top. She could do better than that.
She’d barely set a muffin and a cup of tea on the over-the-bed hospital tray when a nurse popped her head in, a new one Jess hadn’t met yet. Her pink hair caught up in a tidy ponytail, her scrubs freshly pressed, as if she’d recently come on shift. Her brown eyes swam in sympathy.
“Miss Taylor?”
“That’s me.” Premonition sent a cold chill down Jess’s spine.
“They called up from the third floor, said you might be here,” she said in a lilting Eastern European accent.
“I think they need you down there, ma’am,” the nurse told her before hurrying away.
Jess’s heart lurched.
“What is it?” Her mother asked from behind her in a sleepy tone.
“I’ll call as soon as I know. They said I’m needed downstairs.” Jess squeezed her mother’s hand, then hurried out.
Chuck is fine. He’s been fine all this time, recovering well from surgery. It’s probably just Zelda’s blood pressure acting up. Maybe she’s dizzy and they need somebody to sit with her.
It’s not an emergency. If it was an emergency, wouldn’t the nurse have said that? She would have.
Instead of waiting for an elevator, Jess ran down the stairs.
Of all people, she ran into Principal Crane. He was coming up, carrying a bouquet of flowers.
His smile was instant. “Stairs are good exercise, am I right? I sit behind a desk all day. I have to move when I can. How are you, Jess?”
The idea of him going up to her mother made Jess want to growl, but she let it go. “I’m sorry. I’m in a hurry.”
“Is Rose OK?”
None of your business, she wanted to say. Instead, she nodded and kept going.
“Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?” he called after her.
She didn’t respond. She took the steps two at a time instead.
She reached Chuck’s door just as the doctor by his bed put down the paddles of the defibrillator and said, “Time of death, ten forty-three a.m.”
The words hit Jess like driving into a brick wall at top speed.
For a second, everyone stopped, one endless moment of silence to acknowledge that Death had appeared among them.
Then Jess caught movement from the corner of her eye: Zelda collapsing as if her soul and Chuck’s had been holding hands and he’d drawn her behind him. Only Jess’s stuntwoman reflexes saved Zelda from hitting the floor.
“Put her in a bed,” the doctor ordered, his voice thick with sympathy. He couldn’t have been older than midthirties, couldn’t have lost too many patients. He was in control of the room, but at the same time, obviously shaken.
An orderly hurried off, presumably for a wheelchair.
“Are you family?” the doctor asked Jess.
Too numb to speak, she nodded, holding up Zelda’s weight. The woman had bird bones. She weighed nothing. A male nurse hurried to help anyway, and they helped her to the nearest chair. She was quietly crying, unaware of what went on around her. Her gaze was lost in the mid-distance, no longer seeing Chuck, not seeing any of them.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” the doctor told both of them, but only Jess nodded.
“What happened? He was recovering.” She wanted to argue her case, to protest, to convince some higher power to rethink this terrible decision.
“Massive stroke. A blood clot. I can’t really tell you more until the autopsy. I’m sorry. I’m Dr. Munabi.” He offered his hand, and Jess took it. “If you have any questions, or need to talk.” He wrapped his other hand around hers too, offering comfort. “If there is anything at all that I can do, please ask one of the nurses to find me.”
He walked out, but the room was still full of people. Two nurses were wheeling out the crash cart, also murmuring, “Sorry for your loss,” as they left. Two orderlies entered with a rolling bed and lifted Zelda on top of the green sheet.
Another nurse, a woman with gray-streaked hair who looked to be around retirement age, came over next. “My name is Carol. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She patted Zelda’s hand. “Let me just quickly take your blood pressure.” As soon as she was done, the orderlies wheeled Zelda out. The nurse went with them. “I’m going to start an IV.”
They didn’t move Zelda far, just to the nearest empty room, two doors down.
The nurse hooked up the IV bag. “She’ll feel better in a blink.”
In the momentary silence, Jess heard herself gasp, as if she’d been underwater for the past couple of minutes and she only now broke the surface. Her mind felt numb, and at the same time her brain screamed with pain. How? Why?
She needed to do something, occupy herself so she wouldn’t just wail about the utter unfairness of Chuck’s death. She pulled her phone and texted her mother. Chuck is gone. I’ll be up when I can.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket, and didn’t pull it again when it pinged over and over. She understood that her mother had questions, but Jess didn’t have answers. She needed a minute.
Zelda looked around, confusion wrinkling her forehead. “What happened?”
“You’re all right.” The nurse patted her hand. “Your blood pressure dropped for a minute there. I think you’ve been a little out of it, but you’re fine now. Can I get you anything?”
Zelda’s gaze cut to Jess. Her eyes immediately filled with tears all over again, her hand clutched to her chest. “Chuck. Oh my God.” A heartbreaking sob tore from deep inside her chest.
“I’ll take care of her.” When Jess moved closer, the nurse stepped away. And then Jess bent to hug Zelda as they cried together.
How many times had she cried in Zelda’s arms as a kid? To have Zelda crying in her arms, their roles reversed, felt out of order. Everything about this terrible day was wrong.
“But he was fine,” Zelda kept saying. “We were talking every time he was awake. He was so young. How could this happen?” She pushed herself to sit, struggling until Jess helped her. “I want to see him.”
Jess wasn’t going to tell her no. She grabbed an empty wheelchair from the hallway, helped Zelda into it, and pushed her with one hand, dragging the IV stand with the other.
There were two people still in the room with Chuck, the older nurse and one of the male orderlies. They didn’t tell Jess and Zelda to go away. Instead, they gave the family privacy.
Zelda took Chuck’s hand and lay her face in his palm.
His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. He looked like he did when he stayed after dinner to watch some show with Zelda and nodded off for a second on the couch next to her.
Chapter Twenty
ON THE WAY home, Jess saw the Crowley’s Sugaring van in a neighbor’s driveway, the prominent logo, the black bird on the red maple leaf. Looked like Don Crowley was still going from farmhouse to farmhouse. Had Chuck ordered anything from the guy? He’d never said. Jess supposed they’d find out when the bill came. She would have to figure out a lot of things, and in a hurry, if she wanted to keep the operation going.
As soon as they got home, Zelda headed to her new downstairs room to lie down. Jess went to find Kaylee to break the news. She’d be home by now. The school bus would have come an hour ago. It usually came at three in the afternoon.
A dozen crows lined the top of the trees at the edge of the woods, she noticed. As Jess walked toward the sugar shack, she could swear the crows were watching her. When she shivered, it was from the strangely ominous sight of the black birds, and not from the cold. She walked faster.
Before she’d left the hospital, she and Zelda had gone upstairs to tell Rose what had happened to Chuck. They had all cried in each other’s arms. But Jess had not yet texted either Kaylee or Derek. She wanted to give them the news in person. In particular, Jess wanted to be there for Kaylee when she found out about her grandfather’s death. Kaylee would need support, and Jess would do whatever it took to help.
I’m so sorry, but I have some bad news for you, sweetheart, she rehearsed as she walked toward the sugar shack. Or, I love you, honey. Something terrible happened. I’m so sorry. Or . . . Tears sprang into Jess’s eyes. She rubbed them away. How did you tell a kid that she’d just lost the only blood family she had left?
In the end, Jess didn’t have to say anything. The second she walked into the sugar shack, Derek and Kaylee turned toward her at the same time, and they knew.
Derek took one look at Jess and pulled Kaylee into a bear hug. Then, wh
en Jess walked up to them, openly leaking tears now, he pulled all three of them together.
Kaylee knew what it meant, but needed to fight the news. Knowing and accepting weren’t the same. Her eyes, her voice, her entire body, begged. “Please tell me he’s not gone.”
“He is, honey.” Jess choked on her own tears. “I’m so sorry.”
This wasn’t Kaylee’s first time losing family. That she would have to go through something like this again seemed so incredibly unfair. Jess wanted to howl in protest.
“I’m sorry.” Derek’s tone turned thick with emotion. “I’m going to be here for you, OK? Always. And Zelda and Rose too. I know it. None of that orphan bullshit. You have family. So don’t even worry about that for a second.”
Me too, Jess wanted to say. She wanted to add herself to the list, to the family. But she was leaving in two weeks, starting a new shoot. The team needed her. Eliot needed her.
Except . . . Eliot was a friend. He was a mentor and an inspiration. But this was family. And family came first.
“Let’s go into the house.” Derek steered them out of the sugar shack and toward the house. “How is Zelda doing?”
“Shocked,” Jess said. “Drained.”
Derek led them inside.
Within minutes, Zelda joined them, shuffling from her new room on shaking knees. “Can’t lie down. Can’t rest. Can’t turn off my brain.”
Derek went to hug her. When he pulled back, Kaylee ran to embrace her next.
Zelda hugged the girl back with a fiercely protective expression. “Oh, honey.”
They collapsed onto the couch together, holding on to each other as if the couch was a raft, racing down a flooded river.
Jess went to the kitchen for the box of tissues on the counter.
“I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of,” Derek said quietly next to her.
The funeral arrangements.
“Thank you.”
Chuck had no relatives around—he’d come to the United States from Mexico alone, at age eleven. He only had vague memories of his life before. For the past several decades, the town and the Taylors had been his family.
