Long Road Home

by Stacey Lynn

  Nineteen

  Destiny

  * * *

  It’s not like I didn’t know Christa’s parents ran the restaurant. I must have had a mental brain fart about the possibility of seeing her. When I had the idea to come here, I assumed she wouldn’t work here anymore.

  “I didn’t know she’d be here,” I said, ignoring the scathing tone in Jordan’s voice.

  “Well, she owns it now, so she pretty much lives here. Her parents retired a few years back and live most of the year in Scottsdale. They asked if Christa wanted to buy it from them, and she jumped at the chance. You’re also avoiding the question.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His history lesson in the life of Christa was so fantastic I wanted to puke into what had always been my favorite meal. Chicken pot pie, absolutely nothing special, but spectacular at the same time. I tried for the last decade to re-create this meal and could never get it right. She had to have a magic ingredient that made it not too salty, a bit of sweet with this tiny kick of spice. My mouth watered thinking about good it would taste.

  Now I wanted to dump it in the trash and go home.

  Christa had had a crush on Jordan longer than I’d known he existed. She’d been scrawling his name and hers into hearts on her notebooks and even once onto the bathroom stall walls since she could write and long after he and I started dating. She and Jenni Akers, someone I despised more than the summer Houston humidity had been two peas in a pod, vicious in their attacks against me. They were done quietly, and only when Jordan was never around, but Christa’s fake smiles moments ago were exactly why I couldn’t stand this town.

  We’d had art class together and one day when I was asking the teacher a question, they’d put a blob of red paint on my stool so when I stood up after class after returning to finish my project, I had red paint on the butt of my white jeans, making it look like my period had leaked. I hadn’t known for hours later until Jordan noticed it after school. I’d spent three hours that day, walking around with a splotch of what looked like blood on my jeans and not a single person told me.

  It had explained the snickers and points in my direction that day, though, for sure.

  When Jordan saw it, held me while I cried and pounded against his chest, he’d demanded a list of everyone in my art class so he could take care of it. But like he’d do anything to Christa, who had always been decent friends with Rebecca. Telling him would have only made things worse for me.

  Jordan never understood that. He might have wanted to defend me and protect me, but every time he tried, when people saw how much he cared about me, their attacks became sneakier, but no less hurtful.

  And Jenni Akers had always led the charge on that one.

  “I was surprised to see her is all.” I scooped a bite of pot pie into my mouth and almost groaned from the fusion of flavors. It was as good, if not better than I remembered.

  Damn Christa.

  “You’re lying.”

  I set down my fork and blinked a few times to hide my bubbling emotions. “I’m not lying. I’m avoiding. I was surprised to see her and anything that happened was a decade ago. Let it go.”

  “Keeping things from me won’t work this time, Destiny.”

  He hadn’t touched his burger. Not even a single curly fry, which he could eat by the pound back in high school. I saw him do it multiple times.

  “Since I’ve been back,” I said, leaning in and making sure I was quiet enough so anyone nearby couldn’t hear me. “I walk down these streets, and I go to the stores, and I drive past the school and all the memories of how horrible life was for me hits me like a brick to the face, every single freaking day. I’m trying, Jordan, but I don’t always want to rehash everything and sometimes the memories are harder than others. I’m not hiding anything, I’m trying to move past it and this, I do not want to talk about.”

  His eyes moved from mine to the restaurant, his jaw ticking the entire time. God, I hated making him mad. I hated I knew he was fighting against demanding to know exactly what I was talking about, and I’m sure a part of him wouldn’t believe Christa could be anything like she was to me.

  She was always so sweet, so kind to everyone. Until it came to me.

  “Is this about her friendship with Jenni?” Jordan asked, and it was like he knew. His gaze turned inspecting and he dragged them from me to the kitchen and back to me.

  “Please, drop it,” I whispered.

  “They’re not friends anymore. Haven’t been since high school. Jenni went to college, Christa stayed here and since Jenni came back afterward, she’s essentially become one of the most hated women in Carlton.” He leaned forward as he caught my eyes roll. Please. Women ganging up to hate one woman in this town was nothing new. Like he did know what I was thinking, Jordan’s voice lowered further. “Jenni’s a cunt, Destiny, and I’ve never used that word to describe another woman in my entire life. I don’t know what it is you’re upset about right now, but I will one hundred percent guarantee you whatever Christa did to you in school when she was with Jenni, she most likely regrets a thousand percent. She’s not the same.”

  I snorted at the thought. People didn’t change. They got better at hiding it.

  “It was a decade ago, I would like to think we’ve all changed and grown since then. Haven’t you?”

  My nose wrinkled. Somehow he managed to take my thought and twist it so now I was feeling bad about being rude to Christa.

  “Yes,” I admitted, my tone heavy with defeat. He had a point, after all. “Yeah, I’d like to think I’m different.”

  “And I’m asking for you to keep in mind that other people might be too. Especially tomorrow. Okay?”

  He had such damn hope in his eyes. I still felt like we were fighting a losing war, one where both of us were left destroyed on the battlefield. But like I’d always done, I clung to his hope, hoping it was enough for the both of us.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good.” He nodded toward my pot pie. “How’s your meal?”

  I couldn’t hide my grin. “Best pot pie I’ve ever eaten.”

  * * *

  Conversation changed while we ate, but never recovered. Jordan talked about his life after baseball, his decision to return to Carlton instead of doing something in sports, like broadcasting. He insisted he didn’t want to end up in a small market or on the media platform, dissecting all of his former friends and other player’s abilities when he’d been injured in a way he couldn’t fully compete again. He felt that made him a douche, and without a lot of options, he came back and decided to invest in his home community.

  I figured there was more to the story, but since I’d shut him down on pushing me, I hesitated in doing the same thing to him.

  Eventually conversation shifted back to Toby, which was always easier, but it was like every other conversation we’d had so far.

  So by the time our food was done, Jordan paid, and Christa gave us what seemed like a friendly wave goodnight, I’d had all the drama and walks down memory lanes I could handle.

  Basically, I’d ruined our first date in a decade because I couldn’t get past high school crap that didn’t even matter anymore. The more that lingering thought swam in my brain, the more I hated myself for falling into the trap.

  Some backbone I had.

  Jordan pulled into the driveway of Tillie’s home, one I was slowly beginning to think of as mine until disastrous date number one occurred. We couldn’t even get through a meal together. How in the heck could we ever be anything more?

  “I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” I said. My keys were already in my hand, my escape seconds away from Jordan’s heavy sighs and tense shoulders. He’d kept his hands on the steering wheel on the way home.

  No touches to my skin that radiated to the apex of my thighs or my nipples like on the way to Down Home.

  He shoved the gear shift into park and without looking at me, opened his door. “I’ll walk you in.”

 
Still the gentleman he always was, he came to my side of the SUV, but I already had the door open and was hopping down before he could help me. We walked next to each other, the clinking of my keys in my hand and the whistling of the breeze through the trees the only sound in the air. It felt like a lead weight to my shoulders and I was slumped and defeated by the time I unlocked the doors and stepped in. I moved back in case Jordan wanted to come in.

  He did, and I could barely look at him as he walked in, eyes straight ahead toward the kitchen, one hand on his hip and the other at the back of his neck.

  “Any chance you have beer?”

  He probably needed another drink after that disaster. “Yeah. I got some on the way home from Rebecca’s today.”

  Jordan went straight for the kitchen. I kicked off my heels and followed, smiling when I found him. He’d pulled out a bottle of white wine and grabbed two glasses and was opening the bottle.

  “Changed your mind about the beer?”

  “Thought you and I could share a drink instead. Want one?”

  After the flood of emotions all day? “Yeah. A big one please.”

  He went to work on the wine bottle, veins popping on his forearms as he worked the corkscrew. There was something so damn sexy about the simple gesture of opening and pouring a bottle of wine and how manly he looked doing it that flooded me with regret all over again.

  “I’m really sorry about tonight. About Christa. I know it was a long time ago, but it was so hard at the time, and I guess I’ve never really dealt with that.”

  He slid a wineglass in my direction and lifted his own. “I know what it’s like to be talked about, you know. When we were together, after you left, when I came back after getting injured. I wasn’t immune to people saying shit about me, and I’m still not. I just don’t give a shit what people think who only know a sliver of the truth.”

  “Yeah, well.” I flicked out my free hand. “That’s because you’re you.”

  “I’m not some God, Destiny.” He winked at me. That wink went straight to my chest. “Although I always liked that you think I am.”

  “It’s still different,” I insisted. He was from the beloved and wealthy Marx family. Came home even wealthier and because of him, he created jobs for people who might otherwise leave for bigger towns and cities.

  “I know what you think, and I know why you think that.” His eyes warmed along with his tone. His hands braced the edge of the counter and those veins went pop, pop, pop from the back of his hands until they disappeared beneath his short sleeves. Good gracious. “Eyes up here,” he murmured. He wiggled his fingers until I met his gaze.

  I snickered. “So I like the way you look. That’s not a surprise.”

  “I want you to think about something else. Something you sort of said earlier.”

  “What is it?”

  He took a sip of his wine. “What if all the people who were mean to you didn’t give a shit about your mom or your past.”

  “That’s absurd—”

  “Maybe. But hear me out.”

  “Jordan—”

  “Babe. Listen to me. You said it yourself tonight. All those girls who always looked at me like they wanted me or whatever. I never noticed it, but you did. What if they were mean to you because they were jealous of you, and used your mom and your past and shit you had absolutely no control over to make you think you weren’t good enough for me. What if their bullshit was just that? Lies and ridiculous crap girls spread about people to make them feel better about themselves. I gotta tell you, I’ve seen you women in action plenty, overheard conversations at the restaurant that makes my ears bleed. Women can be vipers. And I imagine you master those skills when you’re teenagers.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. That couldn’t be. Who in the hell would be jealous of me?

  “Is it? And don’t give me an answer until you take two minutes to consider it.”

  I was nothing. Came from nothing. Raised on second-hand clothes and drugstore shampoo and groceries. Even when Tillie tried, it’s not like we ever had a lot. It wasn’t even until I started dating Jordan that anyone gave me a passing glance —

  “Jenni Akers and Christa and their friends cornered me before you ever knew I existed, Jordan,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but think back and you’re wrong. Because I knew who you were before then, and I’d already planned on asking you out, but you were so quiet and kept to yourself I was afraid you’d say no, so I went to Ryan at a party one night and told him. Tons of people were around then, Destiny. Any of those girls could have heard.”

  That afternoon when he’d come and sat by me and complimented my right hook, I’d been so nervous. He’d been so kind. So determined. He’d assured me after when I was self-conscious that he’d seen me before that day.

  I just never believed it. And he’d definitely never told me that about him and Ryan. But it would explain why Christa suddenly became so mean, what with her dreams of never being able to do more than scribble their initials in pink hearts on her notebook dismantled.

  “You did?”

  He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m guessing here, Des. I’m giving you another way to look at things. I have no fucking clue why those girls chose that day to corner you and I don’t fucking care anymore. We were kids, and kids are mean little assholes and then, sometimes, we grow out of it.” He licked his lips and paused. “Except for Jenni. She’s still a bitch.”

  I chuckled and sipped my wine. I took the time to consider everything he’d said. A different perspective.

  Like Rebecca had given me. God. How screwed up was I?

  “It pisses me off how smart you can be sometimes,” I muttered and sipped my wine, eyes drifting out the window. If that had been the case, then I’d twisted reality for years. Believed it and based a life off it. I pressed my hand to my forehead and sighed. “I’m such a disaster, Jordan. A complete mess. I honestly don’t know why you bother.”

  “Because when you let your guard down and let people see you, you’re still the most stunning woman I’ve ever met. You only have to start believing it.”

  I dropped my hand as pleasure whipped through my veins. He was always bold and confident. I wasn’t used to this new bluntness. “It’ll take a while.”

  “I’m a patient guy. And I’m hoping that at the least, you’ll start to believe how I see you, and the rest will come. You just have to trust me this time. Can you do that?”

  Could I trust him? God, I’d trust him with my life. It was a ridiculous question. None of the decisions I made were because I didn’t trust him. It was simple self-preservation.

  “I can do that,” I finally said.

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He grinned.

  I blushed.

  We were ridiculous.

  “So what happens now?” I asked.

  He gestured to my almost empty wineglass. “Would you like another?”

  “No. It’ll probably put me to sleep.”

  He took his to the sink and dumped it. I drank the last two sips while he rinsed out the glass, cleaned up the small mess we’d made and resettled the wine in the fridge.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said once he turned and headed in my direction.

  “Now,” he said, and he shot me that smoldering look of his. Furrowed brows, head dipped, heat in his eyes I remembered oh so well, and continued, “We’re going to make out on your grandma’s couch like we used to. We kiss until we can’t breathe. Maybe, if I’m lucky, you let me feel you up a bit, and then I go home with a hard-on like I used to, and tomorrow, we try to do better than we did tonight.”

  His hands hit my hips. His head dipped. A furious heat swam on my cheeks and spread, warming other parts of me with precision like my libido was directly connected to his voice.

  And as his lips brushed my cheek, went to my neck, his hands slid up to my waist and I fell into him, the feel of him, his touch, and the way he moved s
o slowly and seductively, there was really only one word I could give him.

  “Okay.”

  Twenty

  Jordan

  * * *

  Destiny was a handful. I didn’t always understand why she was so hard on herself, but as she whispered her consent into my ear, I determined I’d figure it out, and soon.

  I could have paused to ask her if she was sure, gave her more time like I used to, but we were kids then. She was still lacking the self-confidence I never understood, but she was also a woman who knew her body and what she wanted.

  And in my hands, hers pressed at my sides, her breath skating across my throat, I did the only thing a decent red-blooded man would do with Destiny in their grips.

  I brushed my lips over her cheek, down to her jaw, and back up before sealing my lips to hers.

  She was stiff at first, a futile attempt to fight the attraction buzzing between us. I slid my hands up and down her arms until she loosened, became more pliable. As she surrendered to the feel of my mouth against hers, a riot of emotions in thunderstorm proportions exploded beneath my skin.

  She drove me crazy. Her body, her hair, the sweet airy scent she wore. It was new. Different. Better than the cheap shit she wore back in high school because she couldn’t afford much else.

  “Destiny,” I whispered against her mouth. “Let yourself go.”

  A shiver rolled down her spine, vibrating against my body. “I’m afraid if I do, I won’t ever want to get back up.”

  “I’ll help you. I promise.”

  Shit would continue to hit us from all sides. We’d dodge the mines when we saw one, but I wouldn’t live my life hesitant to take the next step forward.

  I could have hated her. Should have, maybe. But this was Destiny. My Destiny. The girl who’d taken my heart and kept most of it with her until two weeks ago.

  I grinned against her mouth and nipped at her bottom lip, slid my hands to her neck and cupped her jaw.