On the back of my bike is where I've done most of my thinking for most of my life. Today I feel like nothing is what it's supposed to be, and I just need to take a ride back in time.
As I drive through the streets of Bowling Green, I don't even realize where I'm going until I turn on what once was a very familiar street. I come to a stop, gazing up at the place where Bianca and I began.
The little apartment we lived in before we built our house.
This place, this tiny little apartment, was the start of so many hopes and dreams.
For some reason, I'm reminded of one of our first Christmases together.
"Jagger!"
I hear a whisper, but I'm so damn tired. I've been putting in a lot of hours at the shop.
"Jagger!"
This time I realize it's Bianca. "Yeah, babe," I roll over, putting my arm around her shoulders. "What's going on?"
"Jagger," she pokes at my chest. "It's Christmas!"
One of my eyes pops open, allowing me to look up at her. Her long hair falls around us like a curtain. I clear my throat. "Is it?" I tease.
"You know it is," she pinches my side. "Why are you being such a butt?"
A laugh escapes my throat. "So, I guess you want me to get up?"
"Yes! I want you to see what I got you!"
I'm playing it cool, but I want her to see what I got her too.
"Let's go," I push the covers off.
She grabs my hand when I put my feet on the carpeted floor. Pulling me into the small living room, I see she's obviously been up much longer than me. The Christmas Tree lights are on, there's the smell of cinnamon rolls, and coffee mugs are already set out.
"How long have you been up?"
She purses her lips. "Two hours, I've been trying to be patient."
Little does she know, I had only been home for an hour when she got up. "You did good, babe," I kiss her on the forehead.
"I love you, Jagger," she wraps her arms around my middle, snuggling in deep.
"Love you, too. So should we eat the cinnamon rolls first, or open gifts. I'm slightly hungry," I chuckle, rubbing my stomach.
"You can open and eat at the same time."
Minutes later, a plate of rolls on my lap, and a cup of coffee at my side, I'm watching her scamper over to the tree. This morning she's wearing a pair of red and green plaid shorts, with a 'Naughty' shirt on. This year, she's taken the Christmas spirit to the max.
The two of us, we've never been into all the materialistic parts of Christmas. We've given each other gifts that matter, and that's apparent again today. There are a total of three presents under our tree, and two of them are mine to her.
It's never bothered me, and that's what I love most about B, she gets me like no one else ever has. The love we have means more than anything else ever could.
"I hope you love this," she walks over, handing me a package that's been meticulously wrapped. The paper matches the plaid of her shorts, and there's a huge bow on it, almost as big as the package.
"Did you make the bow?"
She blushes. "I did, didn't mean for it to almost be bigger than the package, but..." she shrugs letting the thought trail off.
Slowly I take the bow off, she's been making them for me lately, for any occasion that gives me a present. She probably doesn't realize I've been keeping them, but I have.
"Rip into it," she giggles. "I've had this for a month, and I've been dying for you open it. The suspense is too much for me to take!"
"Oh, okay," I make a production of rolling my eyes, before digging my nails into the paper and pulling.
My heart pounds as I pull the paper back, exposing a smaller box. It's slightly heavy as I test the weight in my palms. "Should I try to guess what it is?"
"No, Jagger. Open it!"
I love to give her a hard time, especially when she's so excited about something.
"Okay, okay."
Peeling back the top of the box, I gasp as I see what's inside.
"B, is this what I think it is?" Not long ago I complained to her about having so many notebooks full of lyrics. I mentioned it would be awesome to have a leather-bound journal that I could add pages too. There was one I had my eye on at a local shop but it was more than I wanted to spend. Knowing she did this for me means the world.
She sits on her knees leaning forward, a grin across her face. "Yeah," she bites her bottom lip. "I could tell you really wanted it, and I know you, you wouldn't have bought it on your own."
"This is just..." I trail off not sure how to put my feelings into words. "This is more than I expected. This was expensive, babe."
"I know," she smiles. "But I knew it was something you really wanted."
Opening the journal, I run my hand along the pages. They're thick and smooth, ready to accept the ink I put to them. Reaching out, I grab hold of her waist, pulling her over to me. My hands move to her face, running them up into her hair.
"I love you, B. You don't try to change me. You love every scar, every tattoo, my sinner's heart. All of it."
"I do," she grins, leaning forward to kiss me.
Shaking my head, I reach into my saddlebag, pulling the beat-up journal I still carry, out. It's gray now, instead of the black color it originally was. There are scratches embedded in the soft material, the pages are leafed back now. The original ones replaced with new ones, but still lovingly bent and used. I've written poems, journal entries, songs, and everything in between on these pages. There are boxes at the house of used pieces of paper. They sit with the bows she's made me.
The ache in my sternum gets stronger, stabbing, and causes me to lose my breathe slightly. I miss her, I miss the way life was before all of this started.
If only I could get her to see my side of the story, but right now we don't see eye-to-eye with one another. Part of me wonders if we'll ever get that back.
Another part of me is scared to death that we won't.
Reaching up, I grab at the cross around my neck, trying to understand, but I just can't. I can't understand how she can't see the brother we loved for so long. Everything for her is black and white, there's no gray.
Looking down at the journal in my hands, I recognize that this journal is the gray. The outside of it. It's seen things, and maybe this is the thing that will help me explain to her, exactly what I'm going through.
Chapter Four
Jagger
I pull up into the parking lot of the school and take a look at all of the kids leaving. I miss this. Being this young and not having any of the problems I have now. As I sit on my bike I look at the kids waving goodbye to one another. Buses go in one lane and another are kids who probably just got their license. There are even a few couples getting last-minute kisses and hugs before they go home for the night.
A grin works its way across my face. I definitely would have been one of those boys, and I would have been getting a kiss from B. The smirk turns into a frown as I think about the situation we've found ourselves in.
Glancing at my watch I figure she should be out pretty soon. She doesn't have any other work to do today and she's not on bus duty. My heart thunder is against my chest as I think about seeing her again. It's only been a few hours but I don't like for us to be argumentative with one another and truth is the last few months have been difficult.
She spots me as soon as she walks out of the school. Her heels click against the blacktop as she makes her way to me. Once she's close enough to speak she asks softly. "Jagger, what are you doing here?"
"I can't do it," my voice is just as soft. "I can't let Travis ruin our relationship. I've loved you for a fuckin' long time, and I refuse to let this break us. So what I want is for you to hear me out and then I'll hear you out and like the married couple we are we'll reach an agreement in the middle."
Her arms cross over her chest her, jaw tightens with a look that is specifically of my wife. But I'm used to this look and it doesn't scare me anymore.
"Hop on," I tilt my head, in
dicating the back of my bike.
"I'm not dressed to ride a bike," she protests.
"Come on babe, when's that ever stopped you before?"
I can tell she's weakening.
Riding on the back of my bike has always been one of her favorite things to do.
"C'mon," I try again, but this time I reach out, grab her hand with mine. "Please, come with me."
She relents, I can tell in the shift of her shoulders. They're no longer stiff, she allows me to pull her. "Okay, I'll come with you."
For a moment, I allow myself the joy of putting an arm around her waist, pulling her into me, and giving her a kiss I've wanted to give her all day. "I missed you today," I pepper her lips with kisses as I say the words.
Her arms come around my neck. "I missed you too, Jagger. I hate fighting with you. Believe it or not, I didn't want it to happen."
"I know you didn't. We're all trying to get our footing and figure out where we stand now. I get that, and while I want all of you to see my side of the story, it hit me, I should see yours too."
"It's not even about sides of the story," she digs her fingers into my hair. "I just think we all need to be open about how each other feels. I wasn't there," she combs my hair, it's almost enough to make me growl in the back of my throat. "Honestly I shouldn't be judging you, because I don't know what it was like in that warehouse. I don't know if Caelin had a chance not to shoot, but I would like to think he wouldn't have made that decision in haste."
"And I don't know what I would have done, if I were him," I admit. "To be honest with you, that's not even what this is about for me. All I want to do is mourn my friend, and be allowed to do so."
She nods, but doesn't say anything. We stare at each other for a moment, and just when I think she's not going to come with me, she gets on the back of my bike.
"You know, ever since the first night I got on your bike, I'd go with you anywhere, Jagger Stone."
Reaching down, I rest my gloved hand over where hers are secure around my waist. "I know, and I'm beyond thankful for it."
Starting the bike, we ease out onto 526 beside the school, and then drive further out into Warren County. She doesn't know where we're going. Not many people know about this place. I was the one who took care of it after everything was said and done, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm one of two or three who know.
Turning onto 185, I gun it slightly, grinning when she tightens her arms around me. I still get one of the biggest thrills out of doing that. You'd think after being married for as long as we have, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But it is. After going a few miles, I slow down, turning onto a road that doesn't even have signage. It's slow going down a gravel drive, but when we come to the end, I drive us through a small patch of woods, before we come out on the other side into a clearing.
"Wow!" Bianca gasps so loudly I can hear her. We're on a bluff and below us, we can see the river.
Here is where we stop. Once we're both off the bike, I turn her attention to a small plot of dirt that's been turned over in the past few months. There's a headstone. Reaching into my saddlebags, I pull out some flowers.
"Is this where he's buried?" She whispers, grabbing hold of my free hand.
"Yeah," I swallow roughly. "I haven't been back here since the small funeral we had, but he's been on my mind lately."
"Did Christine come to the funeral?"
I glance at B. "I figured the two of you would have talked about that."
She shakes her head. "Chris doesn't want to talk about it. It's almost like she'd prefer we forget Travis, but I think that's so that she doesn't have to face he's not here."
I nod, ambling over to the headstone. "I get that," I drop her hand, cleaning off the leaves that stick to it. "But I'm past the point of where I'm shocked by what he did. I'm mourning my friend."
"And you're upset that none of us seem to be doing the same thing?" She finishes for me.
"Yeah, I'm upset," I admit. "And I'm pissed. Regardless of what he did, he was still our brother, still a member of our family. We don't turn our back on family."
"But Jagger, we also don't lie about who they are."
I squat down, setting the flowers down. "He wasn't the greatest of men, because none of us are. But we still have to be able to pray for each other, B. He deserves at least that."
"You really think so?" She comes to stand next to me.
"I do."
And no one will be able to convince me of anything different.
Chapter Five
Bianca
My heart is in my throat as I see Jagger kneel at Travis' grave. Jagger's the man who captured my heart all those years ago, and he still is. Whether we're disagreeing over something or not, but seeing him kneel? It's not something he does often.
I watch, my eyes taking in every move, every breath, as he leans into the headstone, putting one hand on the top of it. His other hand comes up to his neck, and I know without looking he's grabbing hold of the cross he wears there. My husband will always be a man conflicted, more sinner than saint, but still able to talk to God when he needs help. It hits me out of the blue, maybe that's the issue. Perhaps it's not his ability to forgive, but my inability to seek forgiveness for my own actions.
It hits me like a ton of bricks. Kneeling beside him, I wrap my arm around his bicep, my fingernails gripping his skin. =
He turns to me, his light eyes moving up and down, seeking out my stare.
"B?"
My throat is clogged with unshed tears, my chest aching because I've turned from him when I should have turned to him.
"I get it," I whisper. "Your forgiveness of Travis. I get it."
The smile that spreads across his face is a reminder of the young man he used to be, and the older one he is now.
"It's not about him," he speaks softly.
"It's about me," I answer for him.
"Yeah," he nods, turning to take me into his arms. "Without the ability to forgive others for their transgressions, whatever they may be, who are we, Bianca? We're no better than the people who thumb their nose to spite their face. Forgiveness and love go hand in hand, and I know Travis," he runs his hand over the headstone. "He'd forgive me, he'd forgive you, and if he had been himself, he would have died to protect all of us."
My voice is strained. "Which is what he did."
"Which is what he did," he repeats.
Tears sting the back of my eyes, for the first time since all of this happened. "Do you think he meant for it to end the way it did?"
"I don't know," Jagger shakes his head. "The only thing I do know is some major shit was going on in the months leading up to what happened. He wasn't himself, and I kept trying to get him to go talk to Doc Jones. I asked him, so many times, but he kept saying he didn't need to. In some way, I feel like I'm to blame for this. Because I took up with Heaven Hill, he found my sister, and my sister fell in love with him, only to have him end up in a grave, shot by one of our own."
"You can't blame Caelin," I reach over, running my hand along his jaw. "This isn't his fault."
"That's where I'm fucked up," he continues. "Because I am blaming Caelin, and I know he's a kid. There's a part of me that keeps arguing, he had a choice."
"But what if he really didn't? What if doing what he did seemed like the only way out?"
Jagger gets a far-off look on his face. "Tyler said I should talk to Caelin, and I might be surprised. I feel like I should."
I think about how this right here was a light-bulb moment for me. "I encourage you to do it. If you hadn't brought me out here, and continued making me see what was right in front of me, even when I didn't want to..." I trail off. "I don't think I would have gotten it."
"I'm scared," he admits, his voice soft. "Scared that I'll let my anger snap on him. Above all, he's Tyler's kid."
"And he's a kid," I add.
"Right, but he's a kid who made a very grown-up decision, I know it's got to be eating at him."
Jagger
stands up, walking over to look at the water. Slowly I get up, following him, but at the same time giving him room, in case he needs it.
"The only way you're gonna know is if you ask him."
He turns, a smirk on his lips. "Look at you. You figure out what I've been trying to tell you for months, and you all of a sudden are an expert."
I roll my eyes, grinning. "Of course I am. You didn't marry me for my looks, it was totally for this smart mouth."
When he reaches out to grab me, I don't make a run for it. Typically I make John Edward chase me, but not today. Us being at odds with one another sucks, and I want more than anything to be in his arms. It's one of my favorite places to be. He holds me tightly, before bending down and taking my lips with his.
To this day, I still think Jagger Stone is the best kisser in the world. He isn't a wham bam thank you ma'am peck kiss type of man. No, not my husband. His kisses are a slow seduction into not remembering where you are, or what you're supposed to be doing. There's always a slight taste of something sweet and tobacco. His beard scratches against my face, as he works against my lips, turning this way and that to make sure he takes advantage of every space. He adjusts his stance so that I don't have to reach up to get to him, and he doesn't have to bend down.
For hours, it feels like, we stand here on this bluff kissing. Unspoken apologies rush between us. My lips, my fingers, they tell him in ways I never could how sorry I am to have pressured him, to have not seen his perspective.
His do the same, and when he pulls away, breathing hard, he brings his hand up to my jaw, tilting it so that our foreheads touch. Don't let him ever tell you he's not romantic.
"You scared me, B."
"You scared me, too."
"But we're good now?" He raises his eyebrows.
Doing so shows the wrinkles in his forehead and the crow's feet at his eyes, reminding me of how long we've been together. How much time and effort we've put into being a couple. We've outlasted a few, and I have no doubt we'll survive some more.
"We're good now," I confirm. "But promise me you're gonna talk to Caelin. Obviously he's not going anywhere."
Jagger (Heaven Hill Shorts Book 5) Page 2
