by M. Leighton
“Then where were you? Why the secrecy?”
I watch his smile die. “I don’t know if you’re ready for my answer yet, hon.”
My frown deepens. “What’s that supposed to mean? What could you possibly have been doing that I wouldn’t be ready for?”
“It’s not so much what I was doing as much as who I was with.”
A million scenarios run through my mind, only one of which is even slightly bothersome. “As long as it wasn’t a hooker, I don’t think I’ll care, Dad. Just tell me.” After a heartbeat, I add, “Unless it was a hooker.”
“Violet Leigh, what’s the matter with you?”
“What? It’s a legitimate . . . fear.”
Dad shakes his head and walks past me toward his bedroom.
“Seriously?” I say.
“What is it now?” he calls from what sounds like his closet.
“You’re just gonna walk away like we were done?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact it is,” I snap, becoming as aggravated as I am curious.
A knock at the door interrupts our discussion, and since Dad’s in his bedroom, I go to answer it. I yank open the door in agitation, not even pausing to look through the peephole.
But I wish I had.
Although I doubt it would’ve prepared me.
Standing on the doorstep, looking as surprised as I feel, is Jet.
We stare at each other for at least a full minute before speaking. And then, when we do, we both speak at the same time.
“What are you doing here?” we ask simultaneously.
Neither of us bothers to answer; we simply resume staring quietly at each other. Then finally, after such a long pause that my nerves begin to jangle, I break the silence and ask again, “What are you doing here?”
“Ummm, I . . . your father left this in my car.” Jet hands me a cell phone that I recognize as my father’s. I’m pretty sure no one else in the history of the world has a plastic iPhone cover that looks and feels like Astroturf. Leave it to a landscaper . . .
I take the phone from his fingers, even more confused. “Why was my father in your car?” Jet doesn’t answer. He just watches me. Cautiously. I prompt him, “It’s not a trick question.”
“I know it’s not. I just . . . I didn’t . . .” Jet stammers.
I feel like strangling him when he just trails off and doesn’t continue. “You didn’t what?”
Jet sighs. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what?” I ask, taking a step back, my defenses suddenly on high alert.
“It’s nothing bad, Violet,” Jet explains, his tone making me feel like a silly girl.
But then I get a little defensive. How dare he act like I have no reason to be skeptical. Once burned . . .
“Don’t pretend like that’s a foregone conclusion. You don’t exactly have a sterling record of full disclosure.”
He has the good grace to look sheepish. “You’re right. And I deserve that.”
I feel guilty for my dig, even though I really shouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” I offer, closing my eyes and rubbing the back of my hand over my forehead. “It’s been . . . I’m a little . . .”
I don’t finish. I don’t know how to explain to him that he turned my life upside down. Twice. And that I’ve been a mess for weeks.
“Don’t apologize,” Jet says softly. “You have nothing to apologize for.” I glance back up at him. His eyes are a deep, soulful blue that makes me ache right behind my ribs, all the way through to my back, like I’ve been shot. His lips pull up into a sad smile, and he continues. “Just let him know I dropped it off.”
With that, as if no other explanation is required, he turns and walks away.
I watch Jet until I can no longer see him. I feel torn. Part of me wants to go after him, to call out to him and ask him to come back. Or at least to wait. For what, I don’t know.
Another part of me, however, is still stinging. And still hopeful that one day . . . one day . . . I might be able to get over him.
Maybe . . .
When I hear an engine start somewhere down the street out of my line of sight, I close the door on the night. And on Jet.
Rubbing my thumb back and forth over my father’s phone, I’m still standing at the door, lost in thought, when he comes out of his bedroom.
“Who was that?”
I look up to meet his puzzled green eyes.
“Jet.”
He doesn’t look surprised or worried or . . . anything really, he just asks, “What did he want?”
I hold up his phone. “He said you left this in his car.”
Dad pats his right leg, as if automatically feeling for it in his pocket. “I hadn’t even realized I dropped it.”
I don’t move, so my father walks to me and takes the phone from my fingers, sliding it into place in his pocket. We stand, staring silently at each other for a couple of minutes before I speak.
“Do you have something that you want to tell me, Dad?”
He shrugs. “Not really.”
“Well then maybe you’ve got something that I want you to tell me.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”
“When were you with Jet, Dad? And why?”
“I was with him tonight, not that it’s any of your business.”
My mouth drops open. I’m incredulous. “Are you kidding me? How is it not my business?”
“Since when is every friend I have your business?”
“Since that ‘friend’ is a guy I used to . . . to . . .”
Dad holds his hand up. “Stop right there,” he says, closing his eyes and cringing. “I don’t want you to finish that sentence.”
“I wasn’t going to say that, Dad!” I feel my face flame. “I just don’t quite know how to characterize our relationship.”
“Good. I might have to kill him if you’d said—”
It’s my turn to stop him. “Don’t say it, Dad. Why don’t you just tell me what you were doing with Jet so we can put this whole conversation behind us?”
“What if he doesn’t want you to know?”
Again, my mouth drops open. “Why would that matter? I’m your daughter!”
“I know that, hon,” he says kindly. “But I know how you are. I know how hard you can be sometimes.”
“What? When am I ever hard?”
“I’m not complaining, Vi. I’m just saying that you’ve had a lot of years of bad examples and it’s understandable that you’d have a tough shell by now. But sometimes, a parent has to do what he thinks is best for his daughter. Whether she approves or not.”
“And just what is it you think you’re doing for me?”
“Not me, per se.”
“Dad, just cut to the chase. Tell me what’s going on before I get mad.”
He watches me for several seconds, his eyes searching mine. “He’s been taking me to AA meetings for the past few weeks.”
Of all the things I might have dreamed, imagined, or even guessed that my father might say, his answer was nowhere in the mix.
I have only one response. “Why?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a bit of a drinking problem.”
I eye him in warning. “Dad, you know that’s not what I meant.”
My father steps closer to me, winding his fingers around my upper arms. “Violet, that boy’s in love with you.”
My heart flutters in my chest. But then, just as quickly as it began, the weight of reality stops its excited movement and crushes it instead. “Sometimes that doesn’t make a difference, Dad. You know that.”
I see the pain flicker across his face. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that, sweetheart.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know what he’s done that’s so unforgiveable. I probably don’t even want to know. That’s why I’m staying out of it.”
“Going with him to AA meetings is hardly staying out of it, Dad.”
“If you hadn’t fo
und out about it . . .”
“But I did. So tell me what’s going on.”
“He just wants to help you, Vi. Even if he can’t tell you he’s doing it, even if he can’t be with you, he wants to make your life better. And he knows how much my . . . problem bothers you. How much it affects your life. How much it always has. And I do, too,” he admits, casting his eyes down. “I never meant to hurt you, hon. I guess I just never thought of how my drinking impacted you. I only knew it gave me an escape when I needed one.” He falls silent, a long pause stretching between us. Finally, he looks up at me, his expression serious. Pained almost. “But he did, Violet. He knew how much it hurt you, and that’s why he wanted to help.
“He came to me while I was working at his father’s place and asked me if I’d go with him. Said he had some problems and that he’d hurt you because of them. He said that we both had a chance to make your life easier, better. I never really thought of it that way, never really thought of you as a reason to get cleaned up. But he did. He only saw what was best for you. And I should’ve, too. So I went with him.”
I pull free of my father’s grip. I walk to the sofa, standing over it rather than sitting down. I think back to all the tiny and not-so-tiny things, all the seemingly coincidental and not-so-coincidental things that have happened in the past weeks, and I realize that not everything Jet did was to get my attention. Had Tia not cancelled on me, had I not needed to keep busy, had I not parked around back, I might never have known that Jet was taking my father to AA. He wasn’t doing it to make a statement. Or to get credit. Or to win brownie points with me. He was doing it just for me. Seeking nothing more than my happiness, with or without him, he did it. Just for me.
My heart is crying out for me to act. It’s on fire for me to take the risk, to say to hell with the smart thing, to just go with my gut and give Jet another chance. It’s screaming at me, telling me that it’s not only the right, the forgiving and the mature thing to do, but it’s what I want to do. Desperately. Deep in my heart.
So I do.
Whirling around, I run for the door. I don’t know where Jet went or how I’ll find him, or really what I expect to find when I open the door; I just know that I have to move. To do. I have to go after him.
I hear my father’s voice as I jerk open the door.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t answer him; I just take off running down the walk to the street. It’s when I get there that I realize I have no shoes, no keys, no purse and my car is parked around back.
Breathing hard, I turn a helpless circle, wishing I’d come to this conclusion just a little bit sooner. When Jet was still here.
It’s before I turn and start to head back inside that I hear the slam of a car door. I jerk my head left, following the noise down the street. That’s when I see Jet standing in the dark, bathed in the glow of moonlight reflected off the shiny black hood of his car.
I stop and stare, my heart swelling at the sight of him.
He steps onto the sidewalk and moves closer to me, walking slowly, cautiously, until only a few inches separate us. “Please tell me you were coming for me,” he breathes quietly.
I’m shocked. And thrilled. And excited. I’m caught in the surreal moment like light caught in the facets of a diamond—trapped in the brilliance, in the beauty. I do the only thing I can and nod, turning to face him more fully.
“Tell me,” he whispers. “I need to hear you say it.”
My heart is pounding so loudly, I wonder that he can’t hear it, too. “Yes, I was coming for you.”
As though that’s all he was waiting on, Jet raises his hands to cup my face, his touch desperate. “I’m sorry I hid it from you, Violet. I only did it because I love you. And I wanted to help you. But I knew you wouldn’t want anything from me. Please, please, please forgive me,” he says softly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against mine.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Jet. I know why you did it.”
He pulls his head back to look down at me, his eyes boring holes into mine. “I’m so miserable without you, it’s the only way I can sleep at night. Knowing that I’m doing something to make you smile, something to make you happy. It’s the only thing that has kept me going.”
“But you don’t have to do things like that.”
“I know. But I wanted to. It was tearing me up inside to think that you believed I only wanted you in order to win a bet. Violet, you are the only thing in my life that makes it worth living. I knew that if I couldn’t be with you, I’d still have to be involved in your life, in your happiness somehow, even if you didn’t know it.”
I smile. “Well, some of it I’ve figured out.”
“You did?”
I nod. “Suspected, I guess. But still. There are only so many things I can write off as coincidence.”
“Please don’t be mad. I just wanted you to be happy. I just wanted to help you like you always help other people. Like you always helped me.”
“You did. And I appreciate it.”
“Will you ever be able to forgive me for what I did?”
“I already have. Why do you think I came out here?”
“When I saw the door open and you came running out, I prayed that you were coming for me. I promised God that if He would just make you run to me, that I’d never disappoint you again.” Jet sprinkles kisses over my nose and my cheeks. “I’ll never lie to you. Never hurt you. Never make you sad or give you reason to doubt me. I just want to make you happy, baby.”
When he pauses, our noses touching and his lips hovering over mine, I feel the moist warmth of the sweetest words I’ve ever heard, settling over my skin and my heart like a soft promise. “I love you, Violet. I’ve loved you even before I met you. I had no idea what I needed in life until I found you. I didn’t know that there was a person who could make me whole. I didn’t know that there was a woman who could rock my world like no guitar ever could. I didn’t know that all the music in my life was missing something until I found you. You are the beautiful notes in every song I sing. You are the beautiful face behind every lyric I write. You are my reason, my muse. You’re the love I was waiting for, the one thing I can’t live without. Please tell me that you love me, too.”
“I love you, Jet,” I whisper. “I loved you when I didn’t want to because I couldn’t stop. I won’t ever be able to stop. You changed something inside me, something that can never go back to the way it was. Without you, I’m empty and miserable. And more alone than I’ve ever felt before.”
Gently, Jet strokes the side of my face, brushing his lips over mine. “You’ll never be alone again. You’ll always have me. Always. Forever.”
When Jet finally presses his lips to mine, I feel a sigh that permeates my entire being, body and soul. I melt into him like he’s the missing piece of my puzzle. And he fits me perfectly. Because, even though neither of us knew we were missing our other half, we were. But now we’re whole. Together, we’ll always be whole.
FORTY-SIX: Jet
Violet’s lush little body is plastered against mine. The taste on her silky tongue is awakening more than just my heart. I lean away from her so that I don’t do something stupid like drag her into the woods across the street and pin her up against a tree.
“I can’t remember the last time I actually looked forward to life. In one way or another, I’ve tried to drown out huge parts of it for so long, I feel like I’ve only been half alive.”
I see Violet’s lips curve into a suggestive smile as she swivels her hips against mine. “Let me guess which part is coming back to life first.”
I growl, leaning forward to nip her full lower lip with my teeth. “It’s a good thing I can’t see you very well right now.”
“And why is that?” she whispers, flicking out her tongue to taste me, her voice as sexy as ever.
“Because if I saw that damn little blush of yours, I’d probably do something stupid.”
“Like what?”
; “Like carry you into those woods right there,” I confess, crushing her lower body against mine and then wishing I hadn’t. “Dammit, why do we have to be right in front of your dad’s house?”
“I can fix that, you know.”
“Is that right?” I reach between us to pull her loose-necked shirt down enough that I can press my lips to the top curve of her breast. “Because as much as I love the taste of your mouth, there are other things I’m dying to dip my tongue into.”
Violet arches her back, pushing against me, needing the contact as much as I do.
“Like what?” she asks again, her voice noticeably breathy.
“One thing in particular,” I reply, moving my hand to her ribs, down her side and into the elastic band of her pants. I reach around to cup her ass first, grinding her into me, loving the way she gasps. “It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I’d easily walk a hundred miles to have it. Just once.” I move my hand to her hip, slipping my fingers under the thin edge of her panties and running them around to her stomach. “But once would never be enough,” I groan into her ear. “I’m addicted. I’ll never be able to get enough of you.” I move one finger into her crease, rubbing the hard knot of her clit. “You’re all I can think about. The way you laugh, the way you smell. And, oh God, the way you taste.” I push my finger into her, my dick throbbing when her muscles clench around it, wet and hot.
“How would you feel about spending the night with me tonight?” she pants, her hips moving against my hand.
I thrust my finger in once more, going in deep and pulling out slow. “I think that sounds like heaven.”
Violet exhales a shaky breath as she leans her forehead against my chin. I feel the tremble of her fingers when they sink into my biceps. “I can’t go back in there like this,” she admits.
“Then let me take you home. You can call him and tell him I’ll bring you back tomorrow to get your car.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Thank God it’s not far to your house.”
She laughs as I give her a smacking kiss on the lips and take her by the hand to lead her to my car. “Who says we can’t make the ride interesting?” she asks.
