The Color of Jade (Jade Series Book 1)

by Redding, Mae

  “I’m sorry, Jade. At the assembly, it wasn’t my intension to upset you. I just… I needed to get you home before something bad happened… When you wouldn’t go… I just couldn’t let you win that one,” he said, as an intriguing smile curled his lip. “You are pretty head strong when you want to be.”

  I looked at Gage confused, still unsure of what to say, unsure of how I felt. I remembered that day at the assembly, the way Gage insisted I leave, the way he took me home, the forcefulness in his words and actions. I was sure his actions were deliberate, to let me know he wasn’t interested, that I was nothing more than Kane’s little sister and he was there to make sure I got home, the way my brother would have wanted. When really, he did whatever it took to protect me from Damian and Rubin, even if it meant offending my stubborn pride. Damian had been so bold before, how he came to my house to get to me, to get to Kane. There was no saying what he would do on his territory with the Militia to back him up. I wondered why I read Gage’s intensions so wrong that day.

  “I hoped to finally talk to you. Too many years had gone by,” he paused, as it all suddenly became clear. “I saw you at Zach’s funeral with your dad… That was the last time I saw you before we moved away.” My eyes followed him as he moved next to me on the bed. “Zach used to talk about you all the time… I know we knew each other before, but that accident changed something in me, when I saw you there… At his funeral, for some reason, after that I never forgot you, Jade.”

  I remembered the death of my young friend as I my gaze drifted from Gage to the mesmerizing flicker of the fire. “Zach,” I smiled half-heartedly, “if he hadn’t pushed me ... I was only six when he died, I think he was eight.”

  “Yeah, he was five months younger than me.”

  “He died because of me.”

  I closed my eyes and pulled my knees up to my chest, reliving the horrific events of how he died. The pain from that day, the burden that I’d carried why Zach really died, still cut sharp like a knife. Hit by a car, headed right for me. Even though he was far enough away, he put himself in front of the car so he could push me out of the way.

  “No he didn’t. He died because a drunk driver that shouldn’t have been on the road was,” he said, then poured the last of the already steeped tea into a cup. The steam curled into the air.

  “Is that what they said happened?”

  “That is what happened, Jade.”

  “The car wasn’t going to hit him. He pushed me out of the way. It was supposed to be me… How does an eight-year-old boy react like that? I mean… Was he able to understand what he was doing? Everything happened so fast.”

  “He knew what he was doing,” he said, and handed me a cup of tea. I drank from it, not really registering what I held in my hand, too encroached in our conversation.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “How?” I asked, as I brought the cup to my lips and sipped slow.

  Gage shrugged his shoulders. The softness in his eyes told me he understood my need to know why Zach would have done such a thing and how hard it was for me to accept it as it was. “He cared about you… I would have done the same,” he said. The sincerity in his eyes held my gaze and the seriousness of his words hit me in waves, as if he caught me with a powerful, churning turbulence that caused my head to spin.

  I remembered the day of his funeral. I couldn’t see over the top of the casket so my dad picked me up and I stared at Zach. I couldn’t believe it was him. It didn’t look like him at all. He was a dusky color under the makeup, applied to cover up all the marks. He was bruised and swollen; especially his eyelids and he had cuts on his face. I heard people say he looked good. I didn’t think he looked good at all and saying so didn’t make him any less dead. I could tell, even as young as I was the comments were made as an attempt to comfort his mom.

  Dressed in his Sunday clothes, he looked less like himself as well. He had some of his favorite things in the casket next to him, his favorite hat, his glove and his baseball. He loved to play baseball and we would spend hours playing out in the fields.

  Tears had rolled down my little round cheeks still too young to fully understand. Heavy with a plaster cast, I put my arm around my dad’s neck. I unfolded a piece of paper and asked Zach’s mom if I could give it to him. As I tilted the paper so she could see it, tears flooded her already wet eyes. It was a picture I drew of us playing in the field, I had wrote, “I love you, Zach. Thanks for being my friend, love Jade.” I set it in the casket and said goodbye to Zach.

  I wanted to remember him in faded jeans with his grass stained knees and a tee shirt. With his cheeks smudged with dirt from our less than clean endeavors throughout the day on the farm. I had to fight to keep that memory. I couldn’t even see his face in my mind anymore without looking at a picture, and the harder I tried the blurrier his image got. The first image that came to mind whenever someone mentioned him was how he looked in the casket.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up Zach. I’m sure it was hard for you,” Gage said. He pulled me from my thoughts as I turned suddenly to look at him. I blinked and the glassiness in my eyes faded instantly as a dull ache formed behind them.

  “It’s okay, he was my friend. It just seems weird to talk about him because I never did really, not even to Trey. He wouldn’t talk about it.”

  My mind whirled as I tried to muddle through the fog in my mind, back to where I was. Here, in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, with Gage, Zach’s cousin, my brothers’ friend. It all seemed strange for some reason, complicated.

  My body shivered and I pulled the blanket around my shoulders but I barely recognized the cold. Gage stood. The hollowed sounds of his worn boots against the old wooden floor as he walked over to the stove echoed amongst the foundation of the cabin. He put a couple logs on the fire as he noticed my chill then he moved in front of me with his eyes fixed on mine. With low rafters of the roof just inches above his head, he rested his hands against it. The swell of his biceps drew in my gaze then shifted to the black and silver pendant that dangled sending me into a mesmerizing trance as I watched it.

  “Jade…” His voice, distant trailed off. I looked at him.

  Suddenly, his presence filled the tiny cabin and surrounded me. Gage was here, not Zach, and the intense blueness of his eyes searched mine deeply for some kind of resolution. His bronze skin, darkened in the hues of the dim lantern light as the slight slope of his shoulders and the curvature of his chest cut down to his contoured waist, outlined by the tightness of his tee shirt. The way he spoke with confidence, the way he curled his lip slightly when he smiled, the sincerity in his eyes, and the movement of his body as he walked, encouraged me. His fiercely protective but chivalrous mannerisms’ spoke to me in a way that rendered me speechless and burned warmth through me like nothing else I’d known, hotter than the tangible fire in front of me.

  I’d watched him, and our eyes had met many times, at school, passing my house and at Marge’s and now here at the cabin. I felt drawn to him and now we were here together, alone, with nothing to distract us. Not a crowded hallway at school, not Kane or Trey, not Damian or some stupid assembly full of Militia, not a memory of an old friend or life’s interruptions and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt drawn to me too.

  “So… What you’re saying is… I’m not just Kane’s little sister to you?” I wasn't sure where it came from, but dared to ask the question. My eyelids grew heavy as my heartbeat quickened and stole my breath. I bit at my bottom lip as I waited for what his answer might be.

  “No,” Gage said as relief settled in his eyes. His gaze dropped to my lips and lingered for a moment, then he looked up as a smile tugged softly at the corners of his, “you’re not just Kane’s little sister. Not to me.”

  “Oh…”

  Why was it so hard for me to believe that this gorgeous guy in front of me, could like someone as plain as me? My inexperience was obvious. I'd never sat in this position before and
I had no idea what to do next.

  A hushed silence filled the air between us as I tried to absorb what he said. A whirlwind of words in my tangled mind, mingled with the fragrant scent of chamomile and mint along with its dizzying effects dulled the pounding in my head. He said it, he more than liked me, I think. I glanced at the cup in my hand, almost empty. Most likely the reason why my mind suddenly felt stuck in a fog.

  “I feel funny,” I said, as I glanced up at Gage and handed him the cup. My hand trembled and my arm felt weighted as a wave of warmth moved through me. He let his hands drop from the rafters. His fingers brushed against mine as he took the cup. He chuckled under his breath as I gave him a scowl through hooded eyes and sank into the bedding. “Did you give me tea on purpose?”

  “Did you have a headache?” He asked as he averted my question.

  “Yeah…”

  “Do you still?”

  “It’s going away,” I said, my words thick in my mouth as I grew tired.

  “You need to rest your mind.”

  “I don’t want to,” I paused, as I closed my heavy eyes, unable to hold them open any longer. I rubbed at my temples in an attempt to draw my fading headache away. “I like talking to you.”

  I felt the bed shift under his weight as he moved next to me, the warmth of his body close. He pulled my hand away from my head and I let it fall as he resumed massaging my temples.

  “So, where did you learn to ride like that?” He asked, his voice low and husky, soft in my ear. Before I could answer, he spoke again. “I watched you ride every day when I walked by your house.”

  “I know,” I said, I pulled my eyes open briefly.

  “You know?”

  “Yeah, I saw you... I guess you weren’t the only one watching.” I smiled, as a pleased look crossed his face and he smiled back. I let my eyes close as I relaxed under his touch, entranced by the sounds of his steady breaths. I felt myself fade into the depths of sleep, his voice distant and faint like a dream, maybe it was a dream. A dream I didn’t mind getting lost in.

  “Sleep beautiful…”

  ***

  The hum of the bowstring vibrated through the cool mountain air as Gage released the arrow. His ability to shoot a bow and his sharp accuracy far better than he led on as he struck the bulls-eye or near it every time.

  He handed me the bow and another arrow, his expression modest as he encouraged me to take it, I was glad he didn’t rub it in. He chuckled under his breath as I huffed out of frustration and took it slowly. I chided myself about teasing him earlier, about me teaching him how to shoot a bow. I’d never shot a bow in my life and it became apparent after my first few shots, the last of which strayed far from the target, completely missing the tree.

  “If we were shooting clay pigeons…” I let my words trail off as I pulled the bow up to my cheek. I didn’t want to make an excuse but was irritated with myself that I couldn’t shoot a bow as well as I could shoot a gun.

  “Come here, I’ll show you,” he said, his arms folded as he leaned against a tree watching me. I walked towards him as he stood upright and moved behind me. His arms surrounded me and he positioned my hands as he put his over mine. I pulled the string tight and he moved my finger with his to support the arrow.

  “Loosen your hold on the string and straighten your arm,” he said as he positioned my arm with my hand and the string closer to my cheek. “Smooth release… don’t jerk the string.”

  “Okay…”

  I aimed just above the target and let the string slip though my fingers. The arrow cut through the air and carved itself into the center of the bulls-eye. The string hummed as it whipped back and forth releasing the tension.

  “Just like that,” he said, softly in my ear, his voice low and husky. Chills rose up my spine and into my hair with his warm breath on the back of my neck.

  His arms fell slowly to my waist, his hands rested feather light on my hips. My breath caught. I still held the bow as I lowered my arms with his close. I turned my head slightly back, his lips framed with the roughness of his whiskers, next to my cheek. I looked up into his eyes. An intense feeling rushed through me as goose bumps pinpricked my flesh and butterflies rose in my stomach. It wasn’t nerves I felt, no, he didn’t make me nervous though my heart pounded violently. It was something more, much stronger, new. I smiled apprehensively and he stepped back after he reluctantly let his hands fall. My hips felt cold from the sudden absence of his touch.

  “Now try it without me,” he said. With a slight curl of his lip, he offered a grin and handed me another arrow.

  My arms felt like Jell-O as I lifted the bow up and aimed the arrow at the target again. The thin wooden arrow felt like it weighed the equivalent of dense river rock. I took a deep breath. He watched me and kept me distracted as I released my breath and sucked air deep into my lungs. Somehow, I steadied my hands as I released the string and let the arrow cut through the air once more. I prayed it hit the target. If the arrow found the tree, I would have been happy since I didn’t think I could hit the broad side of a barn at that moment. I closed my eyes and froze. I couldn’t bring myself to watch and I heard Gage laugh.

  “How bad is it?”

  “You didn’t see it? What did you close your eyes for?”

  “I couldn’t watch.”

  “Well look!”

  He surrounded me with his arms while he pulled me towards the target. We walked up to the tree and looked at the arrows, not really registering. The two looked like they grew right out of the tree from the exact same place.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “Beginners luck,” I said proudly.

  “I guess.”

  “Don’t ask me to do it again, I won’t be able to,” I laughed.

  “Oh yeah… I’m going to expect it every time now,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. I gave him a shy smile, a little embarrassed and he laughed.

  “Do you feel up to a hike?”

  “Sure… I feel fine.”

  “We won’t go far.”

  He followed the trail and led the way with me not far behind him. We didn’t say much, both comfortable with the gentle tranquility and quietude between us. When the trail became steep, Gage offered his hand and I gladly took it just for a chance to touch him. The trail narrowed and as I slipped on loose rocks, he quickly pulled me close. My breath caught and I laughed at my clumsiness as my heart fluttered high in my chest like a thousand butterflies trying to escape.

  Grey clouds hugged the peaks of the mountains and sent a light shower, barely enough to settle the dust but more than enough to dampen my hair and clothes. The cool drizzle moistened my skin, causing goose bumps to crawl over me from the chill. I looked up at the sky as it stopped briefly, and then started again. It came in heavy drops, faster, sheets of rain, and left nothing in its wake untouched.

  I looked at him with his dark hair, black with a slight natural curl that bent at the ends from the moisture. His grey tee shirt increasingly darkened almost black, as tiny tear shaped splotches appeared from the rain. Each one left its own mark. Rapidly trying to connect with another until there were so many, they interlocked into one.

  He grabbed my hand and we ran for the shelter of the trees. I laughed when the rain slowed just as we found cover but not before we were completely saturated. His smile grew and he laughed with me. I wiped a wet strand of hair from my face. Beaded drops of rain from his hair ran onto his eyelashes and down onto his cheeks.

  His smile faded, he held me in his gaze as if he forced himself to look into my eyes and nothing else. His jaw clenched tight and the longing I saw in his eyes sent a shiver through my body. I looked down at my shirt only to see it just as wet as his and myself, apparently cold. I crossed my arms in front of me and rubbed my goose bumpy limbs with my hands as I tried to draw the obvious coldness from my body. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled quickly as he pulled his eyes off me and shook the water from his hair with his hands.

  He glanced at me ag
ain as an uncontainable smile curled at the corner of his lip. His eyebrows lifted and he pursed his lips together in a failed attempt to force away his smile. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled, unable to contain his amuse, he moved closer and reached for my arms. “You cold?”

  I looked at him as I shivered, dripping wet as the cold puckered my skin. “Yeah…” Heat radiated from his hands, which moved in slow, deliberate motion over my arms, warming me as forced friction pulled the chill away. He took a step in as he pulled me closer, erasing the space between us. My breath caught. His strong but gentle grasp on my arms sent a surge of sensationalized warmth through me that touched every inch of my body. I didn’t dare turn away from his intoxicating hold for fear he would disappear right before me. My breaths quickened with my heart as I craved to feel his lips. I recognized a longing in his soft blue eyes as he searched mine with anticipation.

  The sudden howl of a coyote pulled me from my dazed state and I jumped, startled. The desire in Gage's eyes shifted quickly to defense and I looked behind me as he looked past. I couldn’t see anything, everything blended, everything looked grey and I felt slightly tense.

  “Maybe we should get back,” he said calmly, with a hint of worry in his voice. I looked at him as disappointment grew inside of me. Tormented by the smoldering rush he gave me with no means of release. An all-knowing smile tugged at his lips, his eyes lit with the remnants of an unsatisfied need of his own.

  CHAPTER 16

  I walked outside and found Gage by the stream. The morning, warm already and the sun bright. He turned around when he heard me and gave me his smile that I loved so much. Warmth surged through me and I smiled back.

  I remembered the time when I told Kane I would never have a boyfriend. I laughed a little as I thought about my childhood idea. I hoped he forgot all about our conversation when I was younger. Eleven years old at the time, in sixth grade. I ran faster than any boy in my class. There was only one boy I couldn’t beat at an arm wrestle, and that was Trey, even though I tried, many times. I was such a tomboy then. I liked to do things boys liked to do and I played their games well, well enough to beat most of them. I was never interested in boys in any other way before, or ever had my eye on one, until now.