by Piper Reagan
“Slow down, babe. You hit your head,” I say soothingly.
“Don’t call me… ouch.” She grips her head.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” I go to grab her, and she jerks away again.
“Sorry… I, ah, I can walk on my own.” Her voice has an edge of hysteria.
Her rejection stings, but I hold my hands up in surrender and decide she needs to get inside. I walk around and open her door, and she reluctantly goes, on her own, into the clinic.
As she lets Caleb sit down with her, I sign her in as Gineva Dean and hand the receptionist my credit card, letting her know we’re from out of town and I’ll be paying cash. I do this, knowing it’s the only possible way they’ll give me her medical information, and I pray she doesn’t figure it out before they tell me how she’s doing.
Thirty minutes later, by the grace of God, a nurse pops out to tell me we can go and that I need to watch her for the next twenty-four hours in case of a concussion. Gin comes from the exam room with an ice pack on the back of her head and goes right for the front desk. I get up there just in time to hear the receptionist tell her that her husband has already paid the bill. Gin’s mouth opens then closes, then she turns away and heads for Caleb’s car, refusing to even look at me.
“Fuck,” I mutter and head for the door.
I get another dose of her attitude when I find her in the front passenger seat of Caleb’s truck. I swallow down my irritation at the bullshit she’s throwing my way and decide right then and there that we will be hashing this crap out.
I walked away from this girl once without asking what the hell her words and actions meant, and that’s something I’ve deep down always regretted. I’m sure as hell not going to do it again.
“Where to?” Caleb pulls out of the clinic’s parking lot.
She and I speak at the same time.
“Your place.”
“Sway’s.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter,” she adds. “Really, I’m fine.”
That polite, indifferent tone pricks my skin like a thousand needles. I slide to the middle of the seat and lean forward, practically into the front now. My pulse is racing like a car on the strip, and I’m trying my best to keep my anger at bay. “You need to be watched for the next twenty-four hours. So like it or not, you’re coming home with me.”
She pulls the ice pack down from her head and stares out the window. The huff she expels lets me know she’s not going to give in easily. “This is ridiculous.” She refuses to even turn her head my way. “I bumped my head. I’m not a frickin’ invalid. You’ve met Sway, so you know there’s no way in hell he won’t stalk me all night long. You don’t need to do me any favors. I’ll be fine.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The way she said favors does not sit well in my gut. I know we didn’t end things right. I know this. But she’s as much to blame as I am.
She shakes her head. “Caleb, I really appreciate you giving me a ride. If you would please take me back to my car, that would be great.”
“Goddammit, Gin, you’re not going to your fucking car!” I have well and truly lost my shit. Have I mentioned I don’t do well under this sort of stress?
The force of the brakes slamming sends me almost to the dashboard. I’m stunned briefly as to what just happened. I haven’t been brake-checked since I was, like… eight?
The truck pulls off to the side of the road and Caleb slams it in park. “Listen up, kids. I’m tired of the fuckin’ arguing. I’m stepping out of this car for five minutes, and when I get back in, you’re going to be getting along like adults, and not little brats.” He gets out, slamming the door behind him.
We both sit there in stunned silence, then burst into laughter at the same time.
“Ow.” Gin grabs her head again. “Laughing hurts.”
“Baby…” I take her head and she flinches at my touch. “Please don’t do that.” My voice is soft, but even I can hear the hurt in it. “Let me help you.”
“Why?” She turns, and I’m finally blessed with her face. Her bottom lip quivers a little, and I can tell she’s trying to control it. “You know I’m okay. So honestly, what’s the point?” Her voice breaks and shatters my heart.
Words leave my lips in a whisper. “Spending time with you. Helping you. Holding you. That’s what.”
She closes her eyes. “And then taking off?”
“Gin—”
“Ya know what?” She keeps her eyes closed and shakes her head. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. It’s just a little bump. Let me get back to Sway’s and get my checkbook. I’ll reimburse you for the medical bill and we can forget this ever happened.”
“Will you just stop with the bullshit?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re doing it again.” I’m too pissed to sugarcoat this shit. “Pulling the goddamn indifference act. It’s been nine years, and it’s time we clear the air between us.”
“There’s nothing to clear.” She goes back to staring out the window.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Don’t think so, Jarrett. I think we need to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Give me twenty-four hours. If by this time tomorrow you never want to speak to me again, I’ll let it drop. I’ll never bother you again.”
She shakes her head.
“Please? Come on, at least fill me in on what you’re doing here. To say I was shocked to run into you would be the understatement of the century.” I’m stunned by how much I want to be with her. Every time I considered looking her up over the years, I reminded myself of the way she hurt me. But now that fate has thrown us back together, the idea of going our separate ways feels like an acid bath to my gut.
She finally surrenders. “Whatever. I don’t have the energy to fight with you. And if there is one thing I know for sure, you’ll stand by that promise. You’re a rock star at leaving and never looking back.”
Her words infuriate me and put me in defense mode. What gives her the right to be pissed at me? She’s the one who pushed me away. Before I can open my mouth to argue, Caleb pulls the door open.
“So where are we off to, kids?” He buckles his belt and puts the truck in gear.
“I want to bring Gin to your place for the next twenty-four hours if that’s okay?” I look at her, glad she keeps her mouth shut.
“Sounds good. Honor is expecting us.” I don’t miss the cocky grin on my cousin’s face. That prick already knew how this was going to go.
Nine
Gineva
I let Jarrett lead me into the stunning home. Windows upon windows make me anxious to see the view from the inside. The structure’s beauty momentarily distracts me from my dread of spending the next twenty-four hours in his presence.
“Hello.” The cutest blonde, who can’t be much older than me, greets us at the porch. “I’m Honor. You must be Gineva.” She offers a warm smile. “Please come in and sit down, I made some food.”
My stomach rolls at the mention of food, and I wince as a slight wave of nausea takes hold. “Hi, Honor.”
Jarrett must sense something, because he jumps right in. “Do you think it would be okay if I just take her up and let her lay down for a while? I don’t think she’s ready to eat.”
At his thoughtful words, and due to my level of exhaustion, I make a mental note to put up my white flag for the next twenty-four hours. I’m way too tired, my head still hurts, and I don’t have the energy to argue with him anyway. Besides, he always was great at supporting me when I needed it. At doing anything for me. He also exelled at skipping town and never looking back, which is exactly what I want him to do when this Operation Watch Gin is over.
Only this time, I won’t be shocked or devastated when he never looks back. His tail lights will be a sign of his promise to leave. Not a reflection of my bleeding heart.
***
“Wake up, tea cup.” Fingers rake through my hair, pulling the sweaty strands off
my face.
“Leave me alone.”
“Not a chance.” Lips connect to my forehead. “I need to see your eyes, then you’re going to have to stay awake for a while.”
“Go away, Jui—Jarrett.” His nickname almost slips out in my state of half consciousness.
I open my eyes, startled by how close he is to my face. His bright blue orbs haven’t dulled a fraction over the last nine years. The black lashes still fully frame them, making their presence even more of a glowing contrast. His blond hair cropped tight on the sides but longer on top and currently falling over his forehead. It would make him look like a boy, except his perfectly trimmed beard is one hundred percent man.
My head is foggy as I search the depths of my brain, trying to remember exactly why I’m here and how I ended up in a bed with Juice sitting over me. I stroke his beard. It’s slightly darker than his hair, but still blond. The texture is so much softer than I thought it would be, and when I feel his breath hit my face and his lids slam shut, I realize how inappropriate my subconscious actions are. I pull back as embarrassment burns my cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say, and I wish he would back away and give me some space. Having him this close makes feelings from past and present collide in a mash-up of confusion.
“You can touch me anytime you want. However you want.” His eyes fix on mine, and for a moment, I get drunk on his expression.
Behind the bright blue, I see him in there. I see my best friend, and I want to weep. I want to wrap my arms around him and cry for all the years I’ve missed him. And then I want to smack his face as hard as my palm will allow, hopefully causing permanent damage. A visible scar for the one he left on my heart after our night together. That was the most beautiful and loving experience of my life… until it wasn’t.
You’re as much to blame. You forced him away.
I never thought he would actually go.
Why wouldn’t he? You made it impossible to stay.
But he was my best friend.
Why won’t my brain shut up! I need to know. I need to ask… “Jarrett. Wh-why did you lea—”
The bedroom door flies open as Sway comes barging in, hands waving frantically. “Oh, my sweet drink of Gin! How are you, child? Oh! I was so worried!” His screech is renewing my headache. “I couldn’t get here fast enough, but that sexy Neanderthal fighter man wouldn’t let me through.” He plops on the other side of the bed and leans right in front of Jarrett, who still refuses to move away.
“Can you both just back up for a second?”
Now that I’m fully awake and out of my Jarrett fog, I assess the situation. I look down to see that I’m in a huge Parks Oil Team T-shirt. I still have my bra on, so no one is going to get murdered, but I give Jarrett my best scowl and motion to the shirt. He just shrugs. I sit up in the bed and can tell that I only have my underwear on, but since I’m still covered by the sheet, I decide to table that discussion for later.
“Are you ready to go, Gin Gin? Sway is here to take you home.” He stands and tugs at my arm.
“She’s not going anywhere.” Jarrett’s words are a threat and even I’m slightly startled by his tone.
“But she’s staying with me, young man.” Sway crosses his arms and pops a hip like a pissed-off diva.
Jarrett shakes his head then lifts his chin in defiance. “She’s not leaving this fucking house until my watch is up, then she can go if she still wants to.”
Still wants to?
“But—”
“Not gonna happen, Sway. But if you want to help, go grab her clothes from your house and bring them back here. As much as I like having her in my shirt, I think she might appreciate a pair of shorts that won’t need duct-taped to her body.” Sway goes to argue, but Jarrett takes him gently by the arm and leads him to the door.
“Oh, my lumbersexual stars! I’m sorry, Gin, but Sway can’t argue with this hunk of a man. I’ll be back, child.” He sends me a few air kisses as the door gets slammed behind him.
Before Jarrett can even make a full turn back, I thank the Lord my headache is fading again—because he’s about to get his ass reamed.
“Where the hell are my clothes? And who undressed me?”
He sighs like he’s tired of fighting.
Well, guess what? I’m tired of fighting too! Fighting these feelings that having him near are causing me. And with every second I spend in his presence, I can feel that fight leaving my body. Which is exactly why I need to rally. I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself get lost in him only to have him leave. I barely made it through the first time. I’ll never survive it again.
He sits back on the bed and faces me, planting one hand across my body and settling next to my hip. “You know that’s my shirt, you know that I undressed you, and you also know that you are currently comfortable.” His stare burns into me. “I would never do anything against your will, but after you practically passed out when you hit the bed, I decided you needed to be comfortable. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
He takes my hand and places it back on his beard, rubbing my palm up and down the soft but coarse bristles that cover his cheek. I close my eyes at the feeling and wonder what it would feel like to press my own cheek to his.
Dammit! I hate the affect he still has on me. After nine years. And why, after he left the way he did, is he acting this way?
He only left because of you.
Shut up!
I grip my head, trying to stop my brain. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” He pulls my palm to his lips and kisses the center of it. Then he returns it back to his cheek. “That’s not true. I do know. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
His kiss sends a jolt straight up my arm and into my chest. Never in a million years would I have thought such a simple gesture could be so erotic. “And what is that?”
“What brought you to Hope Town?”
That catches me off guard. “What?”
“As you’ve probably figured out, this is my cousin Caleb’s house. You remember me telling you about him?”
“Yeah… uh…” Hazy memories, stories of his extended family fill my mind.
“I’m visiting him and some of my other friends that live here. I have a race this weekend in Atlanta. That’s why I’m here. What brings you here?” His soft tones lull me back down to the bed, and my defenses settle down a little.
“Oh, I’m just here for a couple of weeks, helping Sway with his business plan.” I yawn and fight my eyelids to stay open.
“Rest up. I think it’s safe for you to take another nap.”
The press of his lips to my temple is sweet and confusing at the same time. Deep down, I know I hurt Juice in a way that doesn’t deserve the kind of compassion he’s showing me right now. But the stubborn part of me, the one that works hard to protect my heart from shattering again, won’t allow me to enjoy this time with him.
It’s too risky.
The idea of loving him then seeing him walk out the door, even if I shove him out it, re-awakens my headache. I pull the comforter up and around me, using the heavy down to protect my body and hopefully protect my heart from ever having to bleed out again. I close my eyes and allow sleep to take me away, praying I wake up with a little more strength than I have right now.
Strength to say goodbye to Juice.
***
“Gin.”
A sense of deja-vu overtakes me.
“Wake up. Time to check on you again.” Juice’s soft voice sends tingles down my spine.
Shit! I need to get out of here. I can feel myself backsliding with every hour that ticks by, every caress of his touch. I need to get away and get some clarity.
The room is bathed in a soft glow from the lamp, the shades pulled over the windows. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight,” he says.
“P.M.?”
“Yep. Time to check on you again.”
This has to stop
. He’s being so nice, and with each passing moment, I feel worse and worse. I can’t explain what I’m feeling right now, and I think that’s what is bothering me the most.
“I’m feeling a lot better actually. My headache is gone, so I think I’m safe to head back to Sway’s.” I swing my feet off the mattress, but am stopped before I get any farther.
He grabs my forearm. “Hey, wait. You need to be watched for twenty-four hours. It’s only been, like, six.”
“I’m fine, I promise. I need to get back.”
“Will you please stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you?”
Stubborn. He always used that word against me, which just pisses me off. This is good—pissed off is what I need. “Dammit, I’m fine. Please, just let me go.”
“Jesus, why do you always do this? Stop pretending like there's nothing left to talk about. Stop fucking pushing at me until I snap and do something I’ll regret!”
“Something you’ll regret?” I know he’s not talking about physically hurting me, though the anger in his voice would give a stranger another impression. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re damn good at manipulating me to give you what you want. You know exactly what to say to push me in any direction you desire.” He curses under his breath. “But I’m not letting you do that this time, not until I get what I want.”
I hate that he’s calling me out on the carpet. I haven’t felt this vulnerable since the last night we were together. “And what is it that you want?”
“I want a do-over.”
“A what?”
“A do-over.”
He breaks my heart and infuriates me with that statement.
“If you think I’m going to throw myself at you again, just so you can screw me and take off, then you’d better think again.” Son of a bitch! I can feel the tears trying to break free, but I refuse to let them surface.
