Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  Greta holds my arms. “What is going on, Dee?”

  I shrug, fighting the tears, but they keep coming until one spills down my cheek. Greta gently wipes it away.

  “Have I told you yet, American beauty, how I like the new makeup you wear?”

  I shake my head, looking down at my white boots. “I’m not—I’m not wearing makeup. Well, I’ve got mascara on, but—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I see. I see you now. And you are more beautiful than—”

  When I begin to shake my head like I’m a maniac, she grips my arms more.

  “Dee, my friend, tell me what is wrong? If those men are hurting you—”

  I clutch at her, realizing what a horrible impression I’m making. “No. They’d never hurt me. They’re so good to me. Too good.”

  Greta cradles my face, smiling. “Never too good. There is no such thing, sweet girl.” She blinks, looking confused.

  Finally, I let it all out. “I—I’ve never really had a serious relationship. I thought I had. But the guy cheated on me with my best friend. And—”

  “Why don’t you think that relationship was serious?”

  “Well, we weren’t married.”

  “So? No one gets married any longer. We all have serial monogamous—yes? This is what it’s called? Serial monogamous relationships. What makes you say you weren’t serious? Did you love him?”

  “I thought I did.”

  “Did you think he loved you?”

  “Yes.” And David, that long ago boyfriend, had said as much often.

  “Then—?”

  I shrug. “Well, my mother said it wasn’t—”

  “Was she in the relationship with you?”

  “No.”

  “Then she doesn’t have a right to judge.” Greta’s eyes are on fire with fierceness. “No one has a right to judge, dear Dee. Oh, but they do. I know all too well, they do. So that is why I want to be closer to you, my friend. You do not judge me, and this is rare. The way you treat me and others is the way we’re all to interact with each other. But, instead, we judge. We’re petty. We’re always comparing. But you are not.”

  “That was beautiful.”

  Both Greta and I jump when we hear the words uttered.

  There’s Fran, crying, holding a store basket filled with—can you believe it?—prenatal vitamins. I know she’s getting them for me. And I burst into tears.

  While blubbering, I say, “Greta, I’d like you to meet my friend, Fran.”

  Greta turns and the two women instantly hug.

  “That was beautiful, Greta.” Fran sniffles. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I saw Dee and couldn’t help but want to know what was going on. I’m a nosy—”

  “No.” Greta smiles. “I would have done the same.”

  They laugh and look at me, embracing me.

  “Because of our friend, Dee,” Greta says, her cheeks coloring a hue of pink, “I’m thinking of becoming an American.”

  “Moving here?” Fran wraps an arm around Greta’s shoulders. “I can help you find a place.”

  Greta squeals. “That would be wonderful!” Then she looks at me. “But first, help me figure why Dee is so sad.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Something has been bothering you.” Fran frowns. “I didn’t want to ask, but something lately has gotten you to be…quiet. Maybe sad too, yeah.”

  I glance past my two friends. Through the thick Plexiglas of the pharmacy, I can make out H’s pickup. Jay and H are standing by the front bumper, talking. They look grim. We’d just had great sex, but they look like it’s the end of the world.

  “You think they’re too good for you?” Greta asks, looking in the same direction I am, seeing the same men I am.

  They’re strong and sweet. The sweetness surprises me every time. I—as much as I loved my father and brother, I never thought them sweet. They both could make me laugh and feel safe. But I also thought they didn’t quite know me. However, I could overlook all that for the safety I felt when in their presence. When they were around, my mother wasn’t quite as brutal. But was that because of them? Or because my mother also loved them—loved them so much that she didn’t feel the need to tell me what I had done wrong at that second?

  I nod without thinking.

  Fran tsks. “No, honey.” She touches my shoulder. “Now, I never asked what kind of a relationship you have with those men, and it’s none of my business. But some things are obvious. They love you.”

  “They’ve never said that.”

  “They will.” Greta smiles.

  “How do you know?”

  Both Greta and Fran lose their grins.

  While Fran’s still holding one of my arms, Greta takes the other and says, “Sometimes, dear friend, you have to ask.” She looks around the store, but her husbands are hiding somewhere we can’t see. “Men, as we all know, are not the best at talking and sharing how they feel. So, you have to ask.”

  * * *

  I’m back in the pickup with H and Jay, driving to the one hospital in Ennis, and we’re silent. Only, filling the quiet is this crackling tension between us.

  Jay sips in a breath. “Are—are you okay?”

  I know he’s gearing this question toward me. H glances at me but then back at the road.

  I nod. “Yep. You?”

  “It looks like you were crying.” Jay turns more toward me, twisting his huge torso in the process. I know what it feels like to rest against his chest. He’s hard as granite but so warm. And when he sleeps his muscles loosen. Those giant strong muscles slack, making for a perfect pillow. Except when I want to sleep on H.

  I shrug. “It’s just a big surprise to see Greta,” I explain, the coward that I am, not revealing what I’m really thinking. “I didn’t expect—she’d—you don’t mind that I asked her to come along, do you?”

  “No,” H says quickly. “I think the more people who show they care about you and Baby, the better. And Fran’s going to be there too?”

  I nod. “You don’t mind? I mean, in the examination room it will be just us, us three.” Then I pause, thinking of how to say what I want to. How to ask if they care enough, if they might love me. But all that comes out is, “Unless you don’t want to be there. I mean, I hope you don’t feel pressured to—”

  “Pressured?” H’s voice is louder than usual, and there’s a twist of pissed off in his tone.

  Jay puts his hand on my leg. “I was wondering if you wanted us there at all.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Of course she does.” H’s voice is even louder, turning sarcastic now.

  I glance at him. He shaved his beard off a couple weeks ago but is growing it back at my request. Still, the stubble isn’t nearly as thick as it used to be, and I can see his jawline kicking.

  “You don’t have to do anything for me, H.”

  He looks at me, his dark gaze flared with anger, his face tense. “I know I don’t, Dee. But what if I want to—fuck.” He swerves from the middle of the road back to his lane, narrowly avoiding a honking tan sedan.

  At first, I just see the passenger of the car, a man obviously swearing and waving his hands in the air. But then I see the driver. It’s her hair that catches my attention as it always has. It’s so light it’s almost white. Her bob is getting longer, but there she is. My sister-in-law, Jane, who’s suddenly smiling and waving at me.

  “Oh holy hell,” I mumble and try to wave back.

  “Who’s that?” Jay asks. I hadn’t noticed, but when H was swerving, Jay clamped onto my belly, holding me as if he’s a human seatbelt, even if I am wearing a literal one. And H has done something similar. One hand on my hip, holding me firmly in place.

  Then Jane’s honking more and slowing down. In the middle of the street. In any other city, there’d be enough traffic to cause all sorts of havoc. But this is Ennis, where no one else is driving Main Street at this second. Of course. Just my luck.

  “Jane,” I whisper.

  “Y
our sister-in-law?” H asks.

  “The one who’s with three guys?”

  I give Jay a scowl, but when gazing at him, I realize he didn’t mean it in a derogatory way.

  He’s looking over his shoulder. “She’s getting out of her car and running towards us.”

  H had already stopped, clenching his teeth even more, making his jawline look like a beautiful marble sculpture—hard angles, masculine lines. He’s so breathtaking.

  “Three guys are getting out too,” H says through gritted teeth.

  “Should we get out?” Jay asks. “Do they look pissed? Can we take them?”

  “Can you take them?” I ask, bewildered.

  H makes a scoffing laugh. “One of them is really built. Actually, all of them are. And one’s pretty tall.” Then he looks at Jay with a smile I’ve never seen before—it’s predatory and fierce. “Of course we could take them, but it’s not a good impression to make on the in-laws.”

  “Wait—what?” My voice is a tad too high, even for me. I’m sure dogs and coyotes and the far-off wolves are the only ones who can hear me.

  “They don’t look pissed.” H clears his throat and starts to roll down his window.

  Jane pops into view, smiling, looking like she’s refreshed from the mountain air. Her cheeks are pink and the tip of her nose too. She’s laughing like I’ve never seen her do before.

  “That is you!” She’s giggling, reaching over H to hold my hand. She squeezes it affectionately. “My sister! I’ve missed you so much.”

  My heart crushes itself. Oh, to hear those words from her. I always worried she thought of me merely as Tim’s younger sister, while I’d adored her. She’s sleek and sophisticated but not in an icy way, like my mother. She is so beautiful from the way she looks to the way she chooses every word she utters.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “Where are you going? Can I come along? And who are these friends of yours?” Jane’s peppering of questions are so…not like her. She’s not talkative. She’s quiet to a point where I usually feel uncomfortable and feel like I need to fill in the silence with my incessant babbling.

  “This is H.” I point to my driver, then nod toward the man still holding my waist. “And this is Jay.”

  Jane shakes hands with H. “So nice to meet you.” With Jay, she has to reach across all of us to hold his hand. H and Jay say something nice back and the introductions and shaking of hands is awkward but Jane’s just laughing in a carefree way that has me a little on edge. My brother made her laugh. I know he did. I saw it. But this—this kind of laughter coming from her is new. It’s light and comfortable. And I’m not sure who my sister-in-law is any longer.

  “It’s so wonderful to meet the both of you.” Jane glances back to her car. “I’d introduce my boyfriends, but they’re glued to the Camry, looking at me like I’m an alien.” She glances back at me, laughing again. “I think I just screamed your name then put the car in park—in the middle of the road, no less—and ran to you. I’m such a weirdo. Oh no, there’s another car coming. Shoot. But, hey, where are the three of you going? Can we come along? Lunch? I’ll pay.”

  I think I’m blinking at her and trying to hide the fact that I don’t know who this Jane is. She’s bubbly and fun. She’s enthusiastic and silly. And I love her even more.

  “I—I’m going to my first OB/GYN appointment here in town.”

  Jane’s eyes grow huge as she glances down at my belly, still being held by Jay. She squeals and jumps up and down, and I’m sure she’d start clapping soon if it weren’t for the car coming on her side of the road.

  “Can I—can I come too? Oh my god, how are you? How’s that baby of yours? Can I come? Not in the examination room, of course. But can I come along?”

  The old Buick brakes not far from Jane, and an older woman glances at my sister-in-law with a patient expression like this kind of thing happens all the time. She inspects one of her red lacquered nails, looking a little bored.

  I can’t believe I live in a town where people allow others to talk in the middle of the street. I live between two tough men who will do anything to make me orgasm and think they can take out three other men. And I worry they really can with their training. But they almost never talk about their time in the military, and when they do they look at me with a huge smile and say something about how they’d forgotten what hope felt like and how good life could be. Until I came along. They say they don’t want to spend too much time talking about what was because what is is so much better.

  I’m lost in my emotions and pushing through my tight throat to say, “Sure, you can come along. Just follow us.”

  Jane squeals again. “Yay! I’ll turn around and follow you.” And she’s gone, running back to her car.

  Did Jane just say yay? I’ve never heard her like this and I’m a little lost as I look forward again at the road. H isn’t driving yet but waiting for Jane to make a U-turn, and, yes, in the middle of the road where the Buick is still waiting imperturbably.

  “So,” H drawls, “we have Greta and her two husbands, Fran, and now your sister-in-law and her three—did she call them boyfriends?—coming with us to the doctor’s appointment?” He slowly drives forward.

  “I—yeah. Sorry.”

  Jay squeezes my knee. “It’s okay. It’s all good.” Then he removes his hand. “You need all the support you can get since you apparently think H and I are in this because we’re some idiotic do-gooders.”

  29

  H and I have had a few arguments over the last few weeks, and H and Jay have too. I always had the idea that it was because H was more confrontational, more argumentative. Jay’s always been a calm rock.

  Until now.

  He crosses his mammoth arms, glaring at the road before us. Oh, he’s really pissed. Even more pissed than the one time H slept on the couch. And to me, Jay’s anger, feels cold. So cold I wonder if I might freeze.

  I know this feeling. This is how I feel with my mother. Eventually, my heart will clench, and I’ll do everything in my power to see if I’m lovable. I’ll perform tricks. I’ll feel like a circus act. Look at me contort myself into this tiny box. Look. Look. See? I can fit in here for you. You just tell me how narrow you want the dimensions and I’ll fit. I’ll do anything to fit into the box. If I fit, then maybe you’ll love me.

  Only, I’m not sure I can perform that same circus act any longer. I’ve done it for far too long. And I have a baby to look out for. A baby who’s making me strive to be a better person, who’s more functional and emotionally healthy.

  However, as much as I’m trying to channel Gandhi right now, I’m still angry Jay’s put words in my mouth.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I think you know what I mean.” Jay’s voice is low and quiet, unnerving me. I’d rather he yell. I hate cold anger.

  The thing is, I’m not going to cower like I would with my mother. I love Jay and I never want to see him like this again. So, I say, “No, I don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Look,” H says quickly. “We’re almost there. Maybe we can talk after. When we’re more calm.” He doesn’t glance at me, but at Jay, a warning flashing through his dark gaze.

  “I’m fucking calm,” Jay roars.

  Because he’s so close to snapping, because he’s no longer cold, I turn to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He instantly tries to push me away, but I cling.

  “Why are you with me?” I ask, my voice shaky and just a whisper.

  I did it. I asked the million-dollar question. I’ve finally stopped being so scared. Or actually, I’m terrified, but somehow I got through it. However, all my strength is gone now. Jay can easily pull me from him.

  “What?”

  “Why are both of you with me?” I look down at my lap. “I want to know.”

  “Fuck,” H hisses. “Greta and Fran beat us.”

  I glance up to see Fran, waving us into a parking spot like she’s one of those people who directs air
planes. Greta and her two husbands are laughing. Fran’s so cute and funny, and usually I’d laugh at her antics, but right now I want to cry.

  The hospital is less than a block away from Main Street, so it would be impossible for even Greta and her husbands to miss. While we'd stopped and talked to Jane, they must have gone ahead. They’re all excited, I can tell. They’re here for me and my baby, and something about that is so intense, so unfamiliar I don’t know how to wrap my head around it.

  All my life, I’ve been envious of people who had families who were in each other’s lives. After my father died, I felt cast to the wind and clung to my brother. I called him my best friend, and he was always good to me. Always. He’d listen and try to give me advice. He was there whenever I called. But he never let me be his best friend. I don’t know. Maybe he thought, as my older brother, he shouldn’t burden me with his problems.

  In my family, we were all islands. All separated by an ocean of miscommunication and abandonment. So, of course, I idolized families who would sit down and have dinner together, watch TV, hang out. Be there for each other.

  Jay, H, and I eat dinner together. Breakfast too. Sometimes we sit in front of the TV while eating fast food because Baby is dying for Taco Bell. H already shakes his finger at Baby after I’ve vomited, telling my child to take it easy on me. Then he stretches his hand across my belly, his fingers spreading wide, saying, “You make me so happy. But be more gentle on Mom, okay?”

  I glance at Fran and Greta and her husbands as they are all now directing us to the parking spot. Do I have the kind of family I’ve always dreamed of? They’re all here for me and Baby. They want to know how we’re doing. They care.

  My throat tightens uncomfortably. But for once, I’m not going to cry. I think I have control over it.

  H parks and looks at me. “I’m here because it’s you. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  This isn’t what my idiotic heart wants to hear, even if it is wonderful. I want to hear how he loves me and will never leave me. Never. He’ll fight death and always be here for me. I want both of them to say something like that. My knights in shining armor, or at least tattooed armor, I want them to say—