by A. O. Peart
“Is it? Alright then. Thank you. You’re Godsend, I swear.”
“That’s what friends are for. Love ya. Good luck.” She hung up.
I stared at the wall, deep in thought. The old book lay open on the bed in front of me, my neatly written notes urging me to look at them once again. I closed it and then mentally slipped my big girl panties on and walked out of the room.
Chapter Twenty
I jerked awake from one of the awful dreams that used to plague my sleep: a wild, rolling fire, structures enveloped in its unstoppable power, collapsing, reduced to misshapen, falling pieces, and charred bodies everywhere—men, women, children, animals. There was a suffocating reek of smoke mixed with the stench of death and destruction. In four years as a Marine, I witnessed more suffering and horror than I cared to admit.
For many months I couldn’t escape these visions. At first, they would invade my thoughts without warning, but after seeing a shrink for a while, my waking hours were mostly free from their curse. I wasn’t completely rid of them—they continued to take over my dreams; but eventually that improved, too. Becoming a firefighter after I served in the Corps was like taking the bull by its horns. It worked wonders for me.
Today was the first time in three months that the nightmare returned without warning. I lay on top of the covers where I’d fallen asleep after Willow walked out unexpectedly. My heart raced, and I tried to steady it by taking slow, deep breaths. I draped my arm over my eyes and stayed still, concentrating on bringing my adrenaline levels down.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face. It tickled my skin, and I grabbed onto that feeling. Finding something outside the visions to focus on was the shrink’s advice. There should be another bead of sweat somewhere else. I tried to locate it. Sure enough, I found one running down my underarm and another, lazily sliding from my belly button and around my waist. That one tingled more than the others, and my muscles contracted in response.
The nightmare was finally gone. Tomorrow, I was scheduled to return to work for my next shift. Instead of going for a run today, I made a mental note to run on a treadmill at the firehouse and take a shower now. I wanted a shower not only to get clean, but it somehow made me feel as if the water cleansed my spirit and eased my mind, too. I sat up, stretched my back and neck, and rose from the bed.
In my bathroom, I pulled a fresh bath towel from a tall cabinet. Before I closed the cabinet door, my eyes fell on a small tin box with a circus scene printed on the lid. I smiled and picked it up.
Inside were some items that would probably look like a random junk to anyone else. To me, each was a small treasure from my childhood. I picked a flat, black rock and marveled at how smooth its surface was. When I was about six, my older cousins—the twins—Brooklyn and Ryley, taught me to skip rocks on a lake. That was eighteen years ago.
A large, neatly flattened candy wrapper was stapled to a yellowed note from my grandma Ruth. It always made me chuckle. Grandma would sometimes reward us ‘bratty rascals’, as she called us, with chocolate candy bars or a box of bubble gum and a handwritten note. That only happened when she decided we behaved exceptionally well, which was close to never. She was a character and still the center of our huge family.
Very carefully I unfolded the note. It read, ‘One day you may finally grow up from your nonsense, Jack. But today you did surprisingly good’. For those who knew our Grandma Ruth, this kind of note meant the highest stamp of approval, which, in turn, was as rare as a clean pair of underwear in my drawer back then.
I grinned stupidly, and pulled the items one by one out of the box and examined them as if seeing each for the first time. Such a small box and so many treasured memories. When I took a tiny, pink envelope out, my grin disappeared. Small roses were printed in each corner. Right in the middle, in a neat handwriting was my name with a heart next to it. I pulled a piece of a thick paper out from the envelope. It read, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER. WILLOW.
A sharp pain stabbed through my heart. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, taking a shaky breath. She left that note under my pillow one day, and then called me to let me know. I slept that night, clutching it in my hand until morning. That was exactly one week before she broke up with me. I knew I deserved the break up, but it still hurt remembering what we’d lost.
Forever. That word echoed in my head, raising all kinds of questions. I wanted to see Willow, but I had to give her whatever space she needed.
I put the note back in the tin box, replaced the cover, and returned the box into the towel cabinet. Next, I turned the shower on and stripped out of my jeans. The shower’s glass walls quickly steamed up. I stepped inside and embraced the heavenly feel of the hot water on my skin.
Maybe I was an insensitive bastard, but I couldn’t quite understand Willow’s reaction. Apparently, something upset her enough to flee the room, leaving me puzzled and concerned. Although I’d already thought it through before falling asleep, I still wanted to ponder her escape in order to have a better idea how I could make things right again.
I realized I kept rubbing the soap in my hands and the running water was carrying the suds straight down the drain. The soap was getting smaller. I ran it over my chest and arms then moved to my pits and shoulders. I did the best to reach my back and winced as an old shoulder injury made itself known.
A few minutes later, my hair was washed and I was thoroughly rinsed. I turned the water off. Wrapping the towel around my hips, I stepped out of the shower and went to brush my teeth.
I returned to my bedroom to pull on a pair of comfortable, old sweatpants. Suddenly, I smelled the faint fragrance of Willow’s perfume. I stopped in the middle of the room, slowly inhaling it and remembering our time together, right here on this bed. It was too much to handle, and I felt a roar of anger building. I hated it when I got like this. My past haunted me—a past that I desperately wanted to forget; a past that had taken the one thing from me that I’d cared about most—my Willow.
No, I couldn’t blame the breakup on anyone but the impulsive, hotheaded, young man I’d been— and could still be—if I didn’t maintain tight control over my temper. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. What most people remembered as their innocent youth, I thought of as an insane, self-destructive one. I was glad I had grown up.
I took another slow, deep breath, catching the faint fragrance of the woman I’d never stopped longing for.
Chapter Twenty One
I hesitated by Jack’s bedroom door. I knew this was going to be difficult; but, until this very moment, I was driven by a determination gained from discussing the problem with Rita. Now, all resolve left me, and I was afraid I would make a complete fool of myself by mumbling incoherently and not making any sense.
I inched closer to the closed door and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again, my heart racing. Did he go somewhere? Maybe I should check the garage for his truck. That sounded like a good idea, probably because it was an excuse to get away from Jack’s bedroom door.
I walked to the garage and stuck my head in. His truck was parked right where he’d left it earlier after bringing dinner from the Chinese restaurant. So he was home, unless he left on foot—maybe he went for a run? I crossed my arms and tapped my index finger on my arm, looking from side to side. He might have been taking a nap and didn’t hear me knock.
I returned to Jack’s bedroom door and lightly tapped on it again. Still no answer. I pressed on the door handle and walked in. The sound of the shower stopped me dead in my tracks. Should I stay and wait for him here or should I return later? I would be lying if I insisted that I wanted to leave. Jack was in the shower. Naked!
“Oh, get a grip,” I scolded myself. But despite my conscience screaming at me to stop, I took a few tentative steps toward the bathroom. “Just one peak,” I promised myself.
I stuck my head in, careful not to alert him of my presence. Jack stood, facing away from me, arms raised and bent at the elbows, head tilted back. He was rinsing his hair, his hands w
orking the thick, dark strands. I marveled at his chiseled, strong body, at all those thick, corded muscles. He was beautiful—tall and well proportioned, with his confident stance and purposeful movements.
My heart pounded in my chest. I was scared he would sense me and turn around before I could tear myself from where I stood and run. Although, truth be told, I didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay and watch him. Well, not really. Who was I kidding? What I really wanted was to take my clothes off and join him in the shower, to run my hands over his body, to kiss and caress him, and feel him all around and inside me. But I wouldn’t do that, because that would be stupid and immature, and it would only serve to confuse us both. So, I quietly walked out of the room and waited in the kitchen until he was done with his shower.
It didn’t take long before the door to his bedroom opened and Jack walked out, wearing only a pair of loose, gray sweatpants. They sat dangerously low on his narrow hips. My eyes trailed over a thin line of black hair that ran down from his belly button and disappeared into the pants. Why did I have to complicate the situation so much before? If I hadn’t freaked out and run off, it would seem very natural if I went to him and explored his gloriously chiseled body.
“Hey,” he called out, stopping in his tracks. There was smile in his voice and in his eyes, but his mouth looked uncertain. “You okay?”
I managed a small smile in response. My hands were sweaty and my whole body shook. I was nervous like a schoolgirl on her first date. “Come sit with me, Jack.” I indicated the chair next to me. I thought it would make things easier if the table wasn’t between us.
“Sure.” He nodded and, without taking his eyes off me, quickly lowered himself onto the chair.
I wiped the palms of my hands on my jeans and felt really warm. Did the temperature just jump up several degrees in here, or was that just the result of Jack’s proximity? I took a deep breath, hoping to calm down, but it didn’t help one bit.
Jack came to my rescue. “So, I did something to spook you, right? You know I’m just a big lug with a small brain.” He grinned.
He blamed himself, even though he could have just waited to see what I was about to say. That made me all soft and mushy inside. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and hold him tight, but I stayed still.
“No, you didn’t really spook me. And you’re so much more than just muscles and a small brain. Come on, Jack, we both know that.” This time I smiled wider. I started to relax—just a touch, but it was a start.
He spread his arms wide and slowly shrugged his shoulders, smiling sheepishly. I knew he was trying very hard to put me at ease and make me feel empowered. What other guy would do such thing? I had to give him that—he was a sweet and considerate man.
“Okay, let me just get to the point fast, before I … uh … get confused. I’m sorry, you must think I’m a basket case.”
“If that’s how basket cases are, it’s right up my alley.” Jack playfully narrowed his eyes, one corner of his mouth curving up in a sexy smile.
Water dripped from his wet hair, dripping in tiny, rivulets down his shoulders and chest. I wanted to kiss them away and to catch them with my tongue, chasing the droplets wherever they went. That thought made me squirm inside. I wasn’t nervous anymore. What I felt, right now, was pure desire. But that wasn’t what I needed. I had to refocus.
I tore my eyes away from Jack and centered my attention on Cora. She was laying quietly on the sofa in the family room, curled up on a blanket. From time to time her eyes opened as if to check and see if we needed her assistance, then she would close them quickly and return to her nap.
Jack waited patiently, winding and unwinding a string from the waistband of his sweatpants around his fingers.
“This whole thing with us is complicated,” I started. “My mind and my body disagree about how things should be going here. I kind of got ahead of myself … don’t get me wrong, it was wonderful, and sweet, and …” I shook my head, briefly closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and continued, “You made me forget about everything. It was just us. But this is not … not …uh, help me out here,” I finally pleaded, looking straight into his handsome face.
The fact that he was half-naked didn’t make it any easier for me. There was no denying I was totally attracted to Jack. One word from him and I might’ve thrown caution to the wind and straddled him.
Jack leaned slightly forward, his stomach muscles tightening into a well-defined six-pack. He rested his bent elbows on top of his thighs and said, “I’m not a player, Willow. I don’t take you for granted. You’ve always meant the world to me, and nothing has changed, no matter how many years we’ve spent apart. I didn’t realize that until today. But now I know for sure how I feel about you … about us.”
I didn’t expect such a blunt declaration. I stared at him, open-mouthed and paralyzed. All that Rita told me about Jack made a complete sense now. Remembering the boy I’d known made the man he’d become very hard to discern. This was not the same Jack I’d once known, and I had to come to terms with the fact that he was a different man. He was, most likely, a better man, but also an unfamiliar one.
“What are you saying, Jack?”
He spread his arms to the sides. “What you see is what you get. No games, no hidden agenda. I want you, Willow. You walked back into my life, and I want you to stay.”
“But … this is all so sudden. I just can’t switch gears so abruptly,” I protested.
“Why not? I can.”
“Maybe you can, but I’m having some difficulty comprehending everything that’s happened. I need to analyze the situation, to think it through.”
“Take your time. I’m not gonna pressure you,” he said quietly.
“I’m not saying that I’m not attracted to you, because I am. A lot. But, if I understand correctly, you want more than just sex from me,” I said.
“Of course.” He nodded. “Also … Willow, I need to say this, so there are no misconceptions—I didn’t plan for us to end up naked when I offered you a place to stay. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than helping you out. I hope you believe me.”
I watched his face. His eyes darkened as if the light went out of them, his shoulders squared, and his chin lifted up slightly. He wasn’t taking this declaration casually—quite the opposite—I was more and more convinced that Jack McCoy was a solid man.
“You have nothing to fear from me.” Jack’s dark eyebrows drew together. The skin on his high cheekbones seemed to get tighter. He was serious, and all traces of humor were gone from his face.
I nodded, looking away. I felt embarrassed, like someone who had blamed a person for lying and cheating without any grounds. That was a nasty feeling. “Jack, I need time. I’m not myself lately, I hope you understand.”
“I do understand. But promise me that you’ll give me a fair chance to prove that I mean what I said.”
Our eyes met, and I was momentarily lost in the depths of his soul. He gaze held me captive, and I knew I would surrender if I didn’t look away immediately. There was a lot to learn about this man, and I was ready to discover who this new Jack was. The connection between us was still strong—too strong to ignore. I wondered if it had ever been broken.
A warm, soothing sensation stirred in the pit of my stomach. Very slowly, it rose all the way to my chest, putting me at ease, and giving me a strong sense of confidence in Jack. By now, I was becoming familiar with that feeling. It had happened more than once since the moment Jack knocked on Rita’s apartment door. How could I keep denying what my body already knew—I could trust Jack.
Chapter Twenty Two
I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t let her slip away, again. What started mainly as surprise at having her back in my life, morphed into strong sense of protectiveness, and then solidified into an undeniable passion. But this wasn’t just lust. It was so much more—respect, devotion, and even simple desire to have her around.
I had to restrain myself from trying to hold her, touch h
er, and kiss her all over. She was all I wanted in my life. My old feelings toward Willow were very much alive, but now they seemed like a foundation on which to rebuild. Starting fresh with another woman would be so much different from this. But starting anew with Willow was the best of all.
She was hesitant, and I understood her caution. Everything was happening way too fast for her, and I was the one to blame for at least part of it. I should’ve backed away today. Making love actually set us back, but I couldn’t restrain myself. She was irresistible. It wasn’t only about sex, of course. It was so much more than that. Sex was always easy to get. Plenty of willing women would be more than happy to sleep with me, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Willow was the only one I wanted in my arms and in my heart. But would she have me?
She sat next to me, her eyes open wide and staring at me. She visibly struggled with her emotions. I wasn’t going to push her. Willow needed to make her own decisions. She had to find her own way to let me back into her life. Sure, I wanted to bang my head against the wall and scream in frustration. But where would that get me? Straight back to where I was six years ago—alone.
I raked my hand through my wet hair. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
Willow gave me a strange look, as if I asked her to stand on her head and whistle. Then she took a deep breath, smoothed her jeans with her hands, and casually said, “Yeah, sure. Maybe something to drink? A soda?”
“Just soda, or something stronger? I’m gonna have a beer. I’ve got wine and all kinds of liquor to choose from. Whatever you feel like.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “I’ll try some wine then.”
I wanted to exhale with relief. The tension between us seemed to ease a notch. That was a good indication that Willow was keen to try what I’d asked her—to let me prove that I wanted much more from her than just sex. Now the ball was in my court and I had to be careful to play it right. I might not have another chance if I screwed this up. No pressure, Jack, I almost chuckled to myself.
