Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  Jay and I would hold hands, laugh, and kiss while H drove, which was unfair, he told me with furrowed brows. So, when we made a pit stop for food and bathroom runs, I attacked him, making him laugh from my clumsy kisses and trying to feel him up in the middle of a gas station.

  At one point along the drive, Jay asked when I was seeing my obstetrician next, which was a huge dose of reality, slapping me into a near speechless stupor. I told them that I was thinking of trying to find an apartment or something in Ennis, something much cheaper than the lodge, and maybe have the baby there. Maybe live here.

  Jay nodded and held my hand. “I like Ennis. Close to the park, so it’s got this outdoorsy feeling to it. It’s also got this great artistic thing too. You could set up a gallery for your pictures.”

  “Can I go with you to your next obstetrician visit?” H asked quickly. He wouldn’t look at me but the road, his knuckles turning white while he waited for me to answer.

  “Do you want to?” My voice was rough, trying to cover up how moved I was by the request.

  “I want to go too.” Jay squeezed my hand.

  We never finalized any plan during the rest of the trip. But, oh god, it was amazing to think of moving to Ennis, of H and Jay being with me, of going into the OB/GYN office and not being embarrassed because I’m alone. To not feel alone was—is…celestial.

  I race to Fran and give her a hug; although, I hardly know her. I’ve only seen her twice now, but I do run to her. She squeezes me so hard something cracks in my back, which makes me laugh.

  “How’s my favorite tenant?” she asks, making my already glowing heart feel even warmer. That’s why I like her so much. She calls me her favorite and who doesn’t like that? “I worried about you,” she says, “since I didn’t see your Jeep in the drive last night.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I look over my shoulder at Jay. “We decided to stay at Mammoth what with the weather. But it didn’t snow nearly as much as I thought it would.”

  “Hardly snowed here at all.” Fran looks around the acreage that is hers to keep, the different shaped cabins here and there, the icy white wash on everything. The sun is setting—rustic orange and bursts of pink set against the blue-black sky.

  “But that’s the park for you,” Fran says. “It could snow a few feet there, but only a couple inches here.”

  I nod and realize Fran and I are still close, our arms are almost touching, and I want to hug her again. Like I did with Greta, I wonder what life would have been like being raised by her. A woman whose long strands of silver and brown hair seem comforting and elegant, who seems grounded and earthy, who calls me her favorite. I wonder if I would still suffer from my lack of self-esteem, if I would be able to find love and give it back.

  I glance at Jay, wondering how he feels about me. It’s too soon to ask something like that. But when I’m pregnant do rules like that apply? Maybe I should ask if he thinks he could fall in love with me. Maybe I’m a fool for even thinking that because I’m not just kissing and fondling him but also his best friend. And he knows it. He watched me do it.

  Does he respect me now after seeing me hold his best friend’s cock in my hand? And what if we have sex? Will he want me after? Or am I some itch he wants scratched?

  “Right,” I say, reminding myself that we’re merely talking about the weather and not thinking about life-changing plans. “Crazy snow.”

  Fran smiles at me then Jay. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never got your name.”

  Jay extends a hand. “Jay, ma’am. I’m Jay Sanders.”

  “I’m Fran Jerome. But just call me Fran. You and your friend been taking good care of Miss Dee?”

  I can’t help but worry if Fran suspects that all of us are in some weird, deviant relationship. That is what it’s called, right? Deviant. A ménage. Not normal. God, all my life I knew I wasn’t, but I craved to just fit in. And now my one romantic relationship where my heart flutters constantly and I’m thinking of crazy stupid things like love is with two men. Two. I should get used to labels like deviant. But I hate them. And I wonder what the heck Fran thinks.

  “Been trying, ma’am.” Jay’s voice is low, soft, calm.

  “She take good care of you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She squints her eyes, assessing Jay. “Military, are you?”

  He nods. “Was. Honorably discharged a few months ago.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a navy man.”

  He gives her a small smile.

  “My Herbert was a navy man.” She grins at me. “Can’t beat a sailor, Dee.”

  I laugh. “No, you can’t.”

  I’m not sure, but I think Jay might be blushing a tiny bit.

  “Well,” Fran clears her throat. “I came down to invade your privacy because I was worried and wanted to give you some banana bread I baked. I hope you like banana bread.”

  “Love it.”

  She smiles. “And I wanted to let you know you’ve had a few calls. One by a very nice but pushy German woman.”

  “Greta?”

  “That would be her, yes. She gave me her phone number, said because of the weather her tour group thought it best to leave early and that she’s sorry she won’t see you to say goodbye.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment is easy to hear in my tone. I liked Greta. I would have liked to say goodbye to her in person too. So I’ll give her a call as soon as I can.

  Fran smiles. “And there was another message from your sister.”

  My heart beats quicker as I ask, “Jane?”

  “Yes, a Miss Jane Emory. She said she’d like to come and see you. Maybe soon. Lord, but the days are flying without my Herbert to help me with the place.”

  Jane’s coming here? Why? But it’s not like I can ask Fran for the answers; however, I do ask, “How is that going? And how’s Herbert and his back?”

  Fran smiles and pats my arm. “He’s doing much better, thank you for asking. But it’s hard on me. This is the off-season, so there aren’t any able bodies to help with the plowing and handiwork and—”

  “I can help,” Jay says quickly. He squares his powerful shoulders. “I’m good with that kind of work, did it before I enlisted and did construction too.” He points over his shoulder at H. “And H, my friend, can help too. He’s an engineer. Built houses. Whatever I can’t fix, he can.”

  “I don’t just need handiwork, but plowing, and keeping up with the snow.”

  Jay smiles. “I’m good with a shovel.”

  “Well, I’ll have to pay you.”

  He shrugs and my heart squeezes. He was going to offer his services for free, kind man that he is. He really is a throwback from some other time, a time when men were…gallant. He is more a knight than his tattoos reflect.

  “Ma’am,” Jay begins slowly. “Dee and H and I were discussing moving here. If you could help us—”

  Fran squeals. God, I love her for squealing like I’ve given her a forty-carat diamond tiara and she’s the new Miss America. She hugs me. “I knew it. I knew Ennis would hook you. And I’m so glad, Dee. I can’t wait until we’re neighbors. I’ll come by and have coffee with you and you can tell me all about the photographs you’ve taken.”

  “You know I’m a photographer?”

  Fran covers her mouth for a moment. “I—I knew your name sounded familiar, so I looked you up on the internets. And sure enough, I saw that photo in that one magazine where they show more gritty details of life. Anyhoo, I saw you when an IED went off. Afghanistan, I think. I saw the pictures you took of that too, but that picture of you…I never forgot your face. And then I looked up your other pictures—”

  Jay holds my hand. “You were near an IED? When it went off?”

  I nod.

  Fran fetches her cell phone from a back pocket, and touches the screen a few times, then shows Jay who squeezes my hand so hard it hurts.

  “Jesus,” he whispers.

  There I am, war-torn, with blood coming out of my nose and an ear. My face is di
rty. My hair’s whipping around me. In that shot, I always saw how my makeup had smeared, revealing a few of my freckles. I always saw my faults. Now, for some reason, I see a pretty and strong woman. I know she was watching the dust settle from the bomb, wondering if she could be of any help, wondering if anybody was hurt, praying—praying so fucking hard that everyone was all right.

  I’m proud of that woman. She’s me and I’m a little stunned by that.

  There’s a low grunt behind me, like someone’s getting hurt, and I turn and look at H. He’s gazing at the picture of me on Fran’s phone, frowning.

  “Where was that?” His voice is raw.

  “Afghanistan.”

  “Who took that picture, honey?” Fran’s voice is soft.

  “The journalist I was traveling with, a real prick. But he got that shot pretty good. He was farther back in the caravan and ran up to make sure I was okay, which, I guess, isn’t that prickish. But other than one time, he was a real dick to me, ordering me to get that or this in a shot, trying to feel me up whenever I wasn’t watching him. Anyway, he ran up and tried to take my camera from my neck, but got that shot instead.”

  Fran’s smiling at me, so I don’t notice that H has stepped closer and grabs me in a strangle-hold of hug. I make an odd noise like I’m suffocating and he loosens his grip.

  “I don’t know what to say, I’m just…” H’s voice is still so raw, so vulnerable with his concern for me.

  “She’s a tough little warrior,” Jay says, still holding my hand and giving me a squeeze again.

  H finally releases me. “Yeah, she is.”

  I chuckle and shake my head, not sure what to say to my men, not sure if I should say anything anyway since we’re in the midst of a woman who’s very nice but must be wondering about H and Jay and our weird group dynamic. I mean, I would be wondering.

  “Fran, ma’am,” Jay says, “This is my friend, H.”

  H extends his hand. “Henry Henley, but everyone calls me H.”

  Fran shakes his hand, smiling at H and Jay, looking like she’s trying to figure out just who they are.

  “H, Fran has some odd jobs she could use help with. Handyman jobs, plowing and things.”

  H nods. “I’ll help.”

  Fran shakes her head. “Bless your soul, you’re just as nice as your friend. But I’m going to pay the both of you, especially since you’re moving here, now.”

  H’s dark brows shoot up, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “The two of you could work here until my Herbert gets better, then he could help you find work with a construction crew. If you want the help, that is.”

  “Yes, ma’am, any help would be greatly appreciated.” H smiles at her, and I wish he’d look at me. I want to know if that’s what he really is thinking. I want to know if he’s just being nice. I want to know if we’re moving too fast, because I’m fairly certain if he looks at me I’ll see doubt on his face.

  As it is, I’m worried doubt is on mine.

  “Well, then, H and Jay, would you like to start working tomorrow?” Fran asks. “Say around nine in the morning?”

  H is nodding, when Jay says, “Fran, we’re also interested in looking at apartments, houses, things like that.”

  Both H and I look at Jay, but I have to look away, too afraid my doubt, my worry might be transparent.

  Fran smiles yet again. “I happen to have a lot of cabins.” She waves her hand around the darkening environment.

  I grin while shaking my head. “But those are for tourists, right?”

  She points to a large cabin closer to the river. It’s the only home with a large wooden privacy fence around it, but it’s a tall enough structure to see the vaulted ceiling, similar to the gigantic lodge I’m renting.

  “That cabin right there was supposed to be for my son, Brian.” Fran smiles slowly. “But he lives in New York City with his husband, Frank. The both of them are city boys through and through. I’d love for my Brian and his Frank to come back to me, come back home, but his heart is in that big city and I know he loves it. When he comes and visits, he stays with me and his father anyway. So it’s about time someone started living there.”

  I shake my head, unaccustomed to so much generosity.

  Fran takes hold of my shoulders. “Honey,” her voice is firm but caring, “You just think about it. Before you say no, just consider it, all right? We can work out all the details later, but for now, Miss Dee, I think you need to relax, rest, and just think.”

  I nod, a knot in my throat, making it so I can hardly peep a word. “Okay and thank you.”

  Fran hugs me, then reaches out for H and Jay too. We’re trapped in a bear hug from the most generous woman I’ve ever met. I’m going to cry soon, thinking about Fran and how she happened to say the things that I’ve been trying to get myself to do—relax, rest, and think.

  She lessens her grip on us, smiling and laughing. “Oh, Dee, I almost forgot the big message.” She purses her lips and her feminine brows knit together. “Your mama called a number of times, asking all sorts of questions about you. Now, I know what it’s like to be a protective mother, but I figured if you wanted her to know your business, then you’d tell her. Anyway, she said she was coming down too.”

  24

  We enter the lodge completely quiet. I don’t understand why my mother would say she wanted to come for a visit. Through the four years of boarding school, the four at college, the years abroad after that, she never visited. I doubt she’ll come. Maybe she said something to Fran to appear like the doting mother.

  But I’m mainly speechless because everything I want to talk about is a jumble of a mess going through my mind. I want to ask, Do you really want to…? Are you serious about…? But what if…? And don’t forget…

  My brain is a quagmire of questions. But mainly I don’t understand how in just four short days two men are asking about moving to Ennis to be closer to me. Not only that, there’s the innuendo that they want to move in with me, that they want to take care of me and my baby. And I have no idea what to think.

  It’s just too soon.

  If I weren’t pregnant, then…?

  Or would they still…?

  “That was my mom on the phone,” H says, almost startling me from my thoughts.

  I look at him. Somehow, I’m near my bedroom, but I’m just standing close to a wall, and there’s a part of me that wonders if I need to hold onto it, hold on to something stable because my knees feel so weak. I should feel tired too. I haven’t taken a nap today, and my baby is all about the sleep. But I’m wired. And shaking. Am I trembling from fear? Probably. But so much of what’s tumbling through my brain and body excites me.

  “How’s your mom?” I ask, my voice sounding funny and far away.

  H gives me a tiny smile. Just one side of his face crinkles from the grin. He shrugs as he looks down at the couch he’s close to. “She wants to come up here too.”

  “Yeah?” My voice is still odd-sounding, so I try to clear it.

  “Yeah.” H nods. “She wants to meet you.”

  After everything that’s happened in the last few minutes, it’s this that makes the most impact. I want to clutch over my heart. I want to fall to the floor. I want to cry. And I might.

  A mom wants to meet me.

  It’s what I’ve always wanted. Except I didn’t want to meet a mom when I’m already pregnant. And pregnant with another man’s baby. Geez, I should give Brad’s mom a call one of these days. Maybe she’d like to know her dead son is having a baby.

  With that thought, I can hardly contain my feelings. I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t understand how two men could just land in my life. And I don’t know if I can trust what’s happening.

  “I’d love to meet her.” My voice is stronger now, but I’m not sure if that’s how I feel. Or maybe it is, because, oh, how I’d love to meet her. I hate that I’m meeting her under these strange conditions, but I want to meet the woman who raised H. “Did—did your
mom give you cookies after school?”

  H glances up at me after his thorough examination of the couch’s arm and nods.

  “She was there after school, giving you snacks and things?”

  He nods again.

  He probably thinks I’m a freak for asking something like that. But what’s always surprised me is how something normal like that, something someone has taken for granted, I would have done anything for. When I was fourteen and coming home to an empty house, or a nanny I’d long since outgrown who I loved but was never sure if she loved me or if it was just her job, something like coming home to someone who gave me a cookie, showed me she gave a damn about whether I was hungry or not, was something I’d probably have done almost anything for.

  I can’t look at H any longer. I don’t know if someone who had such a caring mom, such a normal life would understand. And I don’t know if he’d want me any longer if he knew how something so small like that means so much to me.

  “You get snacks and things after school?” Jay asks. His voice sounds off too.

  I shake my head. “You?”

  He nods. “Aunt Moe always made sure I did. My mom was studying or busy a lot of the time, but Aunt Moe was always there for that.”

  I feel like an outsider. But I always do. I don’t know if people who had dinner at a table with their family will ever know what it was like to eat alone most of my life. I ate in my room, even though my mother would frown at me and tell me I must be eating too much. But eating in my room was better than being somewhere my mother could see me and criticize the way I ate and what kind of food I was eating. The noises I made while chewing.

  “I—I want to be that kind of mom.” I look down to the carpet, staring at a stain. It’s not a dark stain. It’s just a small smudge of something that’s been cleaned and almost matches the surrounding fabric fibers, but not quite. I wonder if I’m a stain.

  “You’ll be a great mom.” H somehow crept up on me. He’s only a few inches away, standing on the stain. I’m going to have to tell him that his training has made him too stealthy for my heart to take. But I can’t right now. I’m so close to crying if I say one more damned word.