Jagged cm-5

by Kristen Ashley

  “She said much the same thing when I stole her number from your cell and we had our chat,” he informed me.

  That was good to know.

  “The ring is beautiful,” I kept blathering.

  His arm gave me a squeeze. “Glad you like it, cookie.”

  “No, I mean it’s really beautiful.”

  “Love that you think so, darlin’.”

  Finally, I shut up and held on to my man.

  He held me back.

  We did this for a while, that was to say, we did it until Ham was done doing it.

  “We gonna stand here huggin’ in the hall all night or are you gonna pick where we start? Break in the livin’ room or fuck in bed?” he asked.

  A shiver slid through me and I pulled my head back to catch his eyes.

  “Dining room table,” I gave him my decision on an alternate location and I watched his eyes flash in a way I liked a whole lot.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “I wanna smell my roses while you’re inside me,” I whispered and I got another flash before he dipped his head and his mouth was on mine.

  “You got it, cookie,” he said there.

  And he was right.

  I did.

  I had it.

  I had everything I needed.

  For the first time in my life, even though with the life I lived I never thought it would happen. And for the first time in my life, it happened without me having to work my ass off to get even close to it.

  In other words, for the first time in my life, I just plain had everything.

  * * *

  “Cookie?” Ham called

  We were in our bed in our new bedroom, my new-old one. We were spooning and I was nearly asleep.

  Still, I had the scent of roses lingering in my nostrils and the feel of Ham still lingering between my legs.

  “Yeah, darlin’?” I answered, my voice sleepy.

  “Just sayin’, want that day to come soon that you got my name so you best get on that.”

  I smiled into the dark.

  “You got it, mein herr,” I teased.

  His arm around me grew tighter.

  “Babe?” he called again.

  “Right here, honey.”

  “You take my name, you do it knowin’ you’ll never lose it.”

  My hand found his at my belly. I linked my fingers through, feeling the band of his ring biting lightly into my flesh, and I sighed a contented sigh.

  Then I replied, “I know.”

  “And you know what it means.”

  I knew what it meant to Ham.

  Ham giving me his protection. His money. His love.

  Him.

  “I know what it means,” I confirmed and I did.

  I knew it meant everything.

  So I didn’t yet have everything.

  But I was going to.

  I felt Ham’s face burrow into the back of my hair.

  “Zara Reece,” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Fuck yeah, it does.”

  “Ham?” I called.

  “Right here, cookie.”

  “I’m uncertain I can take you gettin’ any awesomer,” I admitted.

  His body stilled for a brief moment before it started shaking then the rumble began and, shortly after that, his laughter filled the room.

  I smiled again against my pillow.

  Still chuckling, he pulled me even closer and muttered, “You got a lifetime to get used to it.”

  I did.

  I finally did.

  Thank God.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Survivors

  One week and one day later…

  “This is gross.”

  These words were spoken by Zander, who was standing in Ham’s and my kitchen and squirting devilled egg yolks through a pastry bag into the waiting halves of hardboiled egg whites.

  The house was filled with people, every available surface groaning with food. The bar separating the kitchen from the dining room/living room also had food, a big devil’s food cake on a tall cake stand (Xenia’s favorite), a massive spray of red roses, and all this was intermingled with framed photographs of Xenia.

  It was Xenia’s memorial party.

  Zander might have missed his mom’s funeral but when I told Aunt Wilona about Kami’s idea, we agreed that it should happen and I gave the green light for plans for liftoff so I could have this and Xenia could have this, but more, so Zander could.

  “It’s not gross. It’s delicious,” I contradicted Zander.

  He squirted some devilled yolks into an egg, didn’t do a very good job of it, and I didn’t care. Then he looked up at me.

  “I don’t like eggs,” he informed me.

  “No?” I asked, loving every smidgeon of information I learned about my nephew, even the knowledge he didn’t like eggs, and I didn’t care one bit if that made me a freak.

  He kept sharing the wealth. “My breakfasts of choice are pancakes or waffles or Nona’s hash brown casserole.”

  Although I found the concept of Aunt Wilona’s hash brown casserole intriguing, I returned, “Eggs make you strong. Rocky Balboa drank raw ones before going out for a run.”

  Zander scrunched up his nose.

  “Raw ones?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “That’s gross… er,” he decreed, then asked, “Rocky who?”

  “Rocky Balboa,” I answered.

  “Who’s that?” he queried and I blinked.

  “You don’t know Rocky Balboa?”

  Zander shook his head.

  Therefore, as any conversation about Rocky Balboa was wont to make you do, I tipped my head back and cried in a deep guttural tone, “Adrian!”

  When I was done shouting, I knew eyes had come to me but I only had eyes for my nephew, who was laughing and staring at me.

  “You’re crazy,” he declared, still laughing.

  “That’s what Rocky shouts after his big fight against Apollo Creed. Adrian is his woman,” I told him.

  “Is he a cage fighter?”

  I shook my head in mock disgust, leaned down to him, and allowed myself to do what I’d wanted to do during both of the dinners Ham and I had shared with him and Aunt Wilona at her house.

  I ran my hand over his hair and cupped the back of his head, dipping my face close. “Rocky is a movie. A great movie. One of the best movies of all time. And, if you want, you can come over, I’ll pour a bunch of stuff in bowls, all of it not good for us, and we’ll eat and watch Rocky Balboa be awesome.”

  “That’d be cool,” he said quietly, his eyes having changed. He looked somewhat uncertain but at the same time not uncomfortable and also pleased.

  It was not lost on me in the time we’d shared with him and Aunt Wilona that she was affectionate with Zander. She wasn’t fawning and he was a growing boy so she didn’t get into his space being too motherly. That didn’t mean he didn’t get many indications in a variety of ways that he was loved.

  But he’d never had one like this from me.

  And, if I was reading him right, he liked it.

  So I pushed it, lifted up, kissed the top of his head, and then moved quickly away so as not to freak him out.

  My eyes swept through the house as I did but they stopped on Ham, who was across the room, beer in hand, talking to Latrell and Jeff, but his eyes were locked on me.

  And his mouth was smiling.

  I smiled back and then turned my attention to dumping stuff that was not good for anyone into bowls in order to replenish the generous but swiftly disappearing food supply.

  “Are all these people really my mom’s friends?”

  These words were asked by Zander but his voice was quiet and strange.

  I looked down to him to see the eggs done, the pastry bag still in his hand, but he was looking over the bar into the house that was a crush of people, rock music on low drowned out by happy chatter with spurts of laughte
r.

  “Yep,” I answered.

  “She knew a lot of people,” Zander noted and I again got close to him but not too close.

  Conversationally, I said, “Yeah, she did. She knew a lot of people but these aren’t just people she knew. These are her friends.”

  He set the pastry bag aside, tipped his head to look up at me, and remarked, “She had a lot of friends.”

  I went down in a mini-crouch so we could be eye-to-eye and told him, “Your mom was funny. She liked people and showed it. She was generous and she’d do just about anything for anybody. And people liked her because of all that. If you’re like that, you get a lot of friends and that’s what she did.”

  Suddenly, his face changed again, definitely uncertainty and something I didn’t get until he spoke.

  “I’m scared to go out there,” he whispered.

  Surprised at this admission, I asked, “Why?”

  “Because they liked her so much. What if they don’t like me?”

  My heart squeezed and it dawned on me why, since Aunt Wilona and Zander arrived half an hour ago, he’d stuck to her or me like glue.

  He was nervous and he wanted his mom’s friends to like him.

  Carefully, I asked, “Why wouldn’t you think they would like you?”

  “’Cause you said I’m not like her. They’ll be expectin’ me to be like her.”

  I shook my head even as I smiled.

  “You don’t look like her,” I clarified. “But you told me you have a ton of friends. You’re funny. You’re open.” I got closer and dipped my voice low. “As far as I can see, you’re just like her.”

  When his eyes lit with hope, my heart squeezed again and I lifted a hand to curl my fingers around the side of his neck. Feeling the warmth of his skin, his pulse beating against my palm, for some reason I fell in love with him more just because he was so… very… real.

  “You go out there, they’ll love you,” I promised. “But I’ll stick close anyway.”

  He tipped his head to the side but did it careful not to break contact with my hand.

  Yes, he didn’t mind affection from me and, knowing that, I sent my thanks to the heavens.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Okay,” he murmured.

  I gave him a grin and a squeeze and left it at that, even though I wanted to kiss his hair again. I’d had enough for now and I didn’t want to push it.

  I straightened and I did it just in time to hear the loud thud of a motorcycle helmet hitting the countertop.

  Both Zander and I turned our eyes to Ham, who was now standing with us in the kitchen but his eyes were on Zander. Ham had gone to Carnal to buy Zander the helmet just the day before.

  “Try that on for size, kid,” he invited.

  Zander’s head whipped to the helmet, then back to Ham.

  “No way!” he yelled.

  “Way,” Ham replied.

  “This is so cool!” Zander shouted.

  His hands darted out to the helmet and my heart didn’t squeeze at Ham’s actions.

  It warmed.

  So I gave him a huge smile.

  Ham’s eyes took in my mouth and his lips twitched.

  Zander pulled the helmet on then tipped his head back to Ham. Lifting his hand to the kick-ass visor, he pushed it up.

  “Does it fit?” he asked.

  Ham crouched in front of Zander, put his hands to the helmet, moved Zander’s head around, checked for snugness, then gave the top of the helmet a mild smack before he answered, “Yep.”

  “Cool,” Zander breathed.

  “We got good weather, kid. You want a ride?”

  “Really?” Zander asked, rocking up to his toes in excitement.

  “Sure,” Ham replied.

  “Totally!” he shouted but then dashed around Ham, still yelling, “Nona! Nona! Look what Uncle Reece got me!” He gestured to the helmet. “He’s takin’ me for a ride!”

  Aunt Wilona’s head whipped around at Zander’s shouting. She spied the helmet, her face went straight to alarmed before she smoothed it out and forced a smile at Zander.

  “I’ll have a word,” Ham murmured to me. “Put her at ease. We’ll go easy.”

  “Okay, darlin’,” I murmured back.

  Ham moved in, touched his mouth to mine, and, when he lifted up, I smiled at him again.

  This time Ham gifted me with a smile back.

  Then he moved out of the kitchen and toward Zander and Aunt Wilona.

  I put the devilled eggs and bowls of snacks out and me and a variety of other people followed Ham, Zander, and Aunt Wilona out the front door. We stood in a group and watched Ham throw a leg over his vintage Harley that he’d obviously moved out of the garage for this purpose earlier and unbeknownst to me. Then we watched him instruct Zander how to get on behind him.

  I got close, as did Aunt Wilona, and when we did, we heard Ham order, “You hold on to me tight and don’t let go for any reason. You with me?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Reece,” Zander agreed instantly, wrapping his arms around Ham’s middle.

  My belly fluttered and I got a little tingle between my legs.

  Ham’s eyes came to me, and my physical reactions must have shown on my face because his eyes got dark and then he grinned a sexy grin.

  That got me another tingle between my legs.

  Two seconds later, the bike roared, they took off, and, even over the roar, we could hear Zander’s shout of glee.

  “Dear God, save me,” Aunt Wilona muttered.

  I burst out laughing and for the first time in my life, touched my aunt in affection of my own accord.

  I reached out and slid my arm around my aunt’s shoulders, pulling her close.

  “It’ll be good,” I assured her.

  “I hope so,” she said to me, eyes pinned to where we last saw Ham and Zander.

  My voice was firm when I stated, “Zander means everything to me. I mean everything to Ham. And anyway, Ham thinks Zander is the bomb. He’d never let anything harm him.”

  Aunt Wilona turned her head to look at me, the fear downshifted to worry in her face, then she smiled and slid an arm around my waist.

  And it was then I had the weird sensation that, even when you thought you had everything, life found ways to give you more.

  I pulled her closer and we walked into the house, following the partygoers who had already gone back inside.

  I let her go after a squeeze and went to find my beer.

  I’d located it, pulled back a drag, and dropped my beer to find Arlene standing right in front of me.

  “Mindy’s pregnant,” she announced and I stared.

  Then I whispered, “What?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me,” she declared, then walked away.

  After she did what Arlene was prone to do, dropped a gossip bomb, my eyes flew around my living room until they caught on Mindy. She was standing with Becca and Bonnie. She was smiling. And she was drinking lemonade.

  I felt my face split in a huge smile.

  The doorbell rang.

  I set my beer aside, moved through the crowd to the door, opened it, and there stood Pastor Williams.

  Knowing from Ham what he’d done, I buried my desire to fling my arms around him and give him a big kiss. Instead, I just smiled.

  “Hey, Pastor Williams,” I greeted.

  “Zara.” He smiled back.

  I stepped aside. “Please come in.”

  He moved in, and I shut the door and threw out an arm.

  We walked toward the crush, stopped at its edge, and I asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Unfortunately, I still have work to do on tomorrow’s sermon, so no. I just have time to stop by and pay my respects.”

  “Bummer,” I replied.

  He looked down at me and grinned.

  Then he looked through the crowd, his face softening.

  “I suspect your sister would enjoy today’s gathering,” he remarked.
r />   She totally would.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  He kept looking through the crowd before, cautiously, he turned to me. “It seems there are some who haven’t yet arrived.”

  I felt my back straighten when I asked, “Mom and Dad?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No.”

  I studied him then got it. “Zander’s out for a ride with Ham on his Harley.”

  His face cleared, and he nodded once and mumbled, “Ah.”

  “It’s all good, Pastor Williams,” I told him.

  “Good,” he replied.

  “Okay, no. That isn’t right. It’s all very good,” I shared and he again smiled.

  “Good,” he whispered with feeling.

  “Thank you,” I whispered back and watched his face change again before he socked it to me.

  “I have been waiting years, Zara, turning it over in my head, talking to God, trying to find answers, my way to intervene,” he stated and I took in a deep breath at understanding his plight, knowing that Mom probably spoke to him or maybe he saw what other people didn’t see and knowing that he must have grappled with his powerlessness against it. “I still struggle, what I… when I spoke with Nina…” He paused. “I’m uncertain it was right.”

  “It was right,” I assured him.

  He shook his head. “When you make a decision to help one, or two, or five, but doing so might harm just one, it isn’t right. But it’s just and you simply hope that God can assist you in living with that balance.”

  He was talking in circles, trying not to expose anything, but from what he said, I surmised, “You’re worried about Mom.”

  “That I am, Zara,” he surprisingly confirmed. “Your father is a man who likes to get his own way. It’s crucial to him to control any situation with an iron fist,” he told me something I very well knew. “He’s lost access to a variety of targets. Therefore, his focus on the one he has left will be more acute.”

  I didn’t like this for my mom but I’d long since learned the only person who could save her from being a target was herself. And for reasons I’d never understand, she was unwilling to do that. And for reasons I really didn’t understand, she was willing to put others in her path so when Dad’s attention turned to doing his worst, he’d focus on those targets rather than her.

  So there was nothing I could do. But more, with my life the way it was, my sister gone, and all that had gone on that Mom might have had no control over, but still, doing nothing made her a party to it, there was nothing I wished to do.