by SM Koz
“Kristen and I are going to volunteer at the homeless shelter.”
I smile. I couldn’t imagine them doing anything else. The two of them are like Mother Teresa and daughter if Mother Teresa weren’t a nun and was allowed to have kids. “That’s nice of you. Maybe I’ll see if my dad wants to do something like that.”
“Any cutting?”
“No.”
“Any urges?”
“No.”
“Are you still taking your meds?”
“Yes.” Daisy whines because I stopped petting her for a moment. I reach back over and scratch behind her ears. “Will I be on those forever?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll keep them as is for another six months and then we can try slowly decreasing them.”
“Alright.”
“You’re doing really well, Kelsie. I couldn’t be more pleased at this point.”
“Is JC doing as well?”
She chuckles like she does every time I work him into our therapy session. “Actually, he’s doing much better. That scare at the first hospital put some fight back into him. He was giving up before then. As awful as it sounds, that might have been exactly what he needed. That and your letters.”
I’m shocked by how much information she gave away. She never tells me anything. I’m not sure if she’s being serious about the letters, but I’ll allow myself to revel in that good news for a while anyway. “Is he still in the hospital?”
“He was released today.”
“That’s great!”
“Yes.”
“Will you still see him regularly?”
“We’ll be transitioning to phone calls like I do with you.”
As happy as I am for him, that information disappoints me. That means I won’t be able to write him again. Of course, one goal all along was to help him get better and he’s now better. If I played any role in that, then I’m happy. I’ll try to ignore the other goal of convincing him to bring me back into his life. That was probably a long shot anyway. “Can you tell him I’m proud of him?” I say quietly.
“Certainly.”
“And I’ll miss writing him.”
“Sure. Are you going to be okay, Kelsie?”
After a long pause, I sigh and say, “Yes. I’m glad he’s doing well. That’s most important.” I don’t bother telling her how hard it will be to find someone else as perfect for me as he is. She knows it anyway. Once upon a time, he knew it. At least he has my address and phone number. Maybe someday when I least expect it I’ll get a call from him.
We spend the rest of our session discussing how I’m doing in school and the progress of my college applications. With my dad’s advice, I decided to expand my search to a few other nearby schools. We both agreed UCLA was out, which made me love him a little more.
As soon as we hang up, my dad is standing in the doorway. “Ready?”
“Can I shower first?”
He looks at his watch and then says, “Make it quick.”
I never realized my dad loved planes so much. I guess that explains why he owns one.
I rush through my shower, grab breakfast for the road, and then forty-five minutes later, we’re parked at the private airport and walking into the terminal.
When we clear the automatic doors, I look back and forth. “Which way?” I ask.
“There are some rocking chairs and a big window this way,” he says, leading me to the right. “It’s where we used to sit.”
I follow him and then plop myself into a chair when we reach the viewing area. We’re the only ones here. I put my feet on the window sill and rock myself back and forth, wondering how long we’re going to stay.
“That’s a Cessna 162 Skycatcher,” he says, pointing to a plane taxiing out to the runway. “Less than 300 of those were made.”
“Why?”
“It was relatively expensive and not a very good plane.”
“What’s your plane?”
“First of all,” he says, pointing his finger at me, “it’s a jet.”
I roll my eyes. “What kind of jet?”
“Gulfstream IV.”
For the next thirty minutes we watch planes come and go. My dad identifies each of them and provides extra information on more than half. He’s really excited so I try to ask as many questions as possible.
“Hey, that looks like yours,” I say pointing to a jet landing on the close runway.
“It sure does. It’s the same model.”
“It’s the same colors.” I squint as it slows down and rolls past us. “The number is the same.” I can’t believe I realize that, but on my trip back from North Carolina, I sat at a window that gave me a direct view of the number on the engine for the entire six hours. It must have become ingrained in my memory.
“Huh. One of my partners must have used it this weekend.”
“You don’t monitor where your plane is?”
“Jet. And I’m on sabbatical.”
“Should we go say hi?”
“They’ll come through here on their way out.”
I follow the jet with my eyes until it rounds a corner. My dad has two partners, but I only ever see them at the year-end holiday party. I thought they each had their own planes since the three of them are rarely in the same place, but I must have been wrong.
After another ten minutes, my dad stands and then raises his hand to wave. I look the same direction as him, expecting one of his partners to be walking towards us, but what I see at the end of the hallway knocks the breath out of me. I literally feel like I’m going to fall down and have to grab my dad’s arm to steady myself.
Chapter 39: November 15
He’s holding a bouquet of daisies and what appears to be a candy bar. He reminds me of the old JC—the one I knew in the woods—although his hair is much shorter, practically nonexistent. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but he looks even better than I remembered. He strolls confidently towards us, carrying a heavy bag and even stopping to help Nana and his mom down the stairs.
“Omigod,” I whisper. I squeeze my dad’s arm as my knees buckle again. “What’s he doing here?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” He pushes me in their direction, but I resist. The last time I saw and talked to him, he didn’t want me near him.
I gulp and watch them walk closer. My eyes wander over each of them, not believing they’re really here. When I finally land on JC, his eyes meet mine and his face comes alive with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. It spreads to his eyes, leaving no doubt about his feelings.
The look on his face is like a magnet. I’m pulled in his direction, slowly at first, but there’s no way I could stop it even if I wanted to. The closer I get, the stronger the draw until I’m running in an all-out sprint.
He drops the bag and holds his arms open for me. When I reach him, I jump into him, wrapping my legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He reaches under my legs to hold me up.
Before we say anything, his lips are on mine, urgently moving against me and causing my head to become light and my heart to start racing.
It’s like our one night of kissing in the woods, but not. The passion is the same, if not more, but today, he tastes like peppermint, not campfire and dirt. Plus, we’ve endured a lot since then. This kiss stands for so much. Hope. Strength. Determination. Patience.
He lets go of me with his right hand and draws it to his chest. In one fluid motion, he signs “I love you.”
I reply automatically. That’s one phrase I practiced over and over again.
“You learned sign language, too?” he asks. His voice is rougher than it used to be and he talks a little slower, but if you didn’t know him before and didn’t know anything had happened to him, you could easily think it’s normal.
I stroke his cheek as I feel the prickle of impending tears.
“Are you going to cry?”
I nod. “I’m s-so h-happy.” I’ve dreamed about something like this happening for months, but never really believe
d it would. This is the first time my life has ever changed for the better in the blink of an eye. It’s usually for the worse.
He kisses me again, softer this time, and then wipes away the tears with his thumb when they start falling.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he says. “More than you can imagine.”
I use the ends of the black scarf around his neck to dry my cheeks.
“How are you lovely ladies doing today?” my dad asks, grabbing the women’s bags.
When they start chatting, JC lowers me and hands me the flowers and a Snickers, but immediately reaches for my hand. “I don’t plan on letting go of you for at least a month,” he whispers in my ear.
“Just a month?”
“Two?”
I nod, but then think about what he’s saying. “You’re going to be here in two months?”
He uses his free hand to push my messy hair behind my ear. “I’m not going anywhere without you. I’ve done that and didn’t like it at all.”
“You’re moving to California?”
He nods.
“Nana and your mom, too?”
“Yes. Your dad found Mama a job. One of his friends needed a cleaning person for an office park complex. She starts tomorrow.”
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“They’ll be staying in our guest house until they get settled,” my dad says, leading us out of the terminal. “Remember,” he adds, looking at the women, “there’s no rush. You can stay there as long as you like. We never use that space anyway. Plus our home is kind of quiet with just the two of us. It will be nice to have some more people around. Don’t you think, Kelsie?”
I nod, probably a little too enthusiastically. JC will be living like 500 feet from me for the foreseeable future and this time we won’t have crazy Bling trying to kill him or Kris threatening to send us home if our legs happen to touch. We can actually be love struck teenagers. I squeeze his fingers and again marvel at how such an ordinary day could turn into something so wonderful.
When we reach the Land Rover, JC helps Nana into the back and then I climb in between the two of them. His mom sits up front with my dad. Once we’re buckled in, he drapes his arm over my shoulder and I lean into him, unwrapping the Snickers.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a bite.
“That’s my way of apologizing.”
“For what?” I hold out the candy to him.
“Being mean to you,” he says and then takes a bite.
“It was understandable given the circumstances.”
Kissing the top of my head, he says, “That’s kind of you, but I don’t agree. I’m sorry.”
“Tyrell—” Nana starts, but JC cuts her off.
“Mike.”
“Mike?”
“Michael Smith, pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending his hand towards me.
“Seriously? That’s what you picked? That has to be one of the most generic names of all time,” I say with a laugh.
“Exactly.”
“JC,” Nana says, apparently preferring that over Mike, “I think we need to talk to Mal about the precautions the detective gave us.”
“What precautions?”
JC squeezes my shoulder and says, “You can’t tell Marta I’m here when you talk to her.”
“Why not?”
“No one besides Detective Green, you, and your dad knows. He also doesn’t want you to have any social media accounts. He’s afraid you’ll post a picture telling everyone how awesome your boyfriend is and Crew will somehow see it.”
The word boyfriend makes me smile involuntarily, but then his words sink in. “Damn,” I mutter, “this is serious.”
Elbowing me in the ribs, he says, “Nana doesn’t like cussing.”
“Sorry, Nana,” I say, handing the rest of the candy bar to JC. Using my phone, I open Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. After a few moments, I lower it with a flourish. “Done. I’m no longer a slave to social media.”
*****
When we get home, I introduce JC and his family to Daisy and then show them to the guest house. I was worried it would be dusty and the beds would need to be made since no one has been in there for months, but my dad must have gotten everything ready when I was at Elise’s yesterday. He even added a vase of fresh flowers to the small table in the kitchen.
While his mom and Nana organize the room they’ll share, I sit on JC’s bed as he unzips his bag and starts pulling things out.
I know I’ve got the stupidest grin on my face, but I can’t control it. I haven’t felt this happy in years, maybe ever.
“I love your smile,” he says, tossing a pair of pants into a drawer. “In the woods, it was always the highlight of my day whenever I could draw out that elusive smile.”
“I can’t seem to stop now.”
“Good.”
He throws a pile of shirts on the bed.
“Can I hang those up for you?”
“Sure.”
I grab them and move to the closet. I throw each over a hanger and then organize them by type, short-sleeved or long-sleeved, and color. After a few minutes, JC stands behind me and places his hands around my waist. “You really are OCD.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“Yes, that is the final straw. I can handle everything else, but putting my shirts in rainbow order is too much.”
“They’re not in rainbow—“ I start to say, but then realize he’s right. Without even thinking about it, I’ve arranged them from blues to yellows to reds. “At least it looks neat and organized.”
“It’s perfect.” He nuzzles my neck, so I turn around to face him.
“Are you done unpacking?”
“Almost. Just my bathroom things left.” He kisses my cheek and then returns to the task.
I sit back on the bed while he pulls toothpaste, shampoo, and deodorant out of his bag and places them on the duvet. When he gets to a square box, I frown. It’s like the first day of Wilderness Therapy all over again. Casanova.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like this kind?” he asks, picking up the box. “It says ‘for her pleasure.’ I thought that’d be good for you.”
“Me?”
“Of course you. Who else will I be using these with?”
“No more Casanova?” I ask, as that delightful tingling starts developing in the pit of my stomach.
Laughing, he sits next to me, our legs touching, and then brushes my hair out of my face. His hand lingers on my neck. The sensation of his warm skin on mine makes my heart skip a beat.
His thumb slides over to my lower lip as he says, “That ended the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Right,” I gulp, my cheeks suddenly feeling much warmer than they should in the air-conditioned guest house.
“It actually did. Of course, the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere and then I was in a coma and then I couldn’t talk or walk for months might have all played a role in that.”
I smile as he drops his hand. “So it was lack of opportunities that made you a changed man?”
“Coupled with meeting the most amazing girl in the world.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead. It’s a totally innocent kiss, but my body reacts to his touch like it’s something much more. The earlier tingling has spread up to my chest and through my arms and legs. My heart is pounding and there’s a fluttering deep in my belly that I haven’t felt since our last night in the woods.
“Maybe we should see if their advertising is correct,” I whisper, resting my hands on his chest.
“Yeah?” he asks, his body tensing beneath my fingers.
“You’re not going to be a tease this time are you?”
“Never again.” He jumps up to shut and lock the door. “We’ll have to be quiet,” he says, launching himself onto the bed, landing on top of me, and making me giggle at his eagerness. “Think you can manage?”
“That could be difficult.”
He smiles and there’s a wicked glint in his e
ye. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Does that mean you won’t be quiet?”
“My bigger concern is going slow. I’ve wanted you for so long, I can see myself tearing off your clothes and having my way with you right now.”
His words further ignite the fire that’s been building inside me. I don’t need him to go slow. I’ve been waiting just as long and want this just as much. “Go ahead,” I say, spreading out on the bed and moving my arms overhead, giving him easy and complete access to any part of me he wants.
I expect him to remove my clothes in a split second, but he takes his time, starting with a kiss. His lips mold to mine as he wraps his hands around the back of my head, pulling me towards him. Although he’s moving slowly, he’s not hesitant. There’s confidence behind his actions like he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly the effect it will have on me.
And he’s right. I part my lips wider as a whimper involuntarily escapes. His warm breath mixes with mine. His tongue explores my mouth, and suddenly I’m the one urging him along by moving his hands to my chest.
He slides them under my shirt, slowing pushing it up to uncover my belly. Then he leans over and kisses one of the scars there, gradually running his tongue along its length. I bite my lip and groan as his movement wakes up parts of me that have been dormant for a while. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite this alive in all the times I’ve done this.
“JC?” a voice asks from the other side of the door.
I gasp and tense. The words are followed by a knock.
“We need your help, honey. Can you move our suitcases to the top shelf of our closet?” his mom asks.
“I’ll be right there,” he says, his body still poised over me, his lips sinking lower on my belly and brushing against my skin with each word.
I pause, not sure what to do, but he continues kissing me. When his mom doesn’t say anything else, I reach for his shirt, yanking it off. I run my hand from his collar bone, along his smooth pecs, to his six-pack, blatantly admiring his incredible body.
He catches my eye and smiles before moving lower so he can unbutton my pants. When he starts drawing them down my legs, all thoughts disappear from my mind as he brushes his fingertips against my sensitive skin from hip to inner thigh to knee. I close my eyes to enjoy the deep fluttering that has spread from my belly elsewhere.
