The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Phoebe Alexander

  “Oh, god, James,” she cried out, her nails gouging his shoulders as she came, shuddering against him, falling back against the pillows, her golden curls bouncing onto her face.

  He felt each contraction of her orgasm as it passed through her body, squeezing his cock as he held it still, absorbing the spasms. She weakly moaned, “Your turn...ooooohhhhh.... Please...baby...please....”

  James felt the tension surging through him, his need for release radiating from deep within his balls, up through the tip of his cock and out to all his extremities. He grinded his pelvis against hers, fast but deep strokes, his hands pushing her backside firmly against him as he relentlessly began to drill into her. Suddenly he felt months and months’ worth of built-up pressure explode out of him so exquisitely that he collapsed helplessly on top of her while the waves pounded over him, leaving him shaking and gasping for air. Once the seemingly never-ending ripples finally dissipated and he regained the capacity for speech, his lips formed two words against her breasts: “I’m home.”

  ***

  Sarah collapsed at the gate after a whirlwind romp through the Dallas airport to make her connection back to Baltimore, only to find out that her flight had been delayed due to bad weather back east. Damn it, she thought, as if it’s not bad enough to have to fly totally out of my way to Dallas, now I have to kill an hour when I thought I’d be boarding immediately. She was anxious to get home. The conference had been amazing, but she missed her kids, she missed Rachel and the baby, and she couldn’t wait to see Garrett. He’d been sending her naughty texts since she had boarded her flight in Denver and he was the one picking her up at BWI. She sent him a message to let him know she’d be delayed. He responded immediately with a frowning emoticon. It seems he’s just as anxious to see me, she thought happily.

  She settled down into one of the blue plastic-covered benches lining the corridor of the terminal and looked through all the texts on her phone. She saw the one that James had sent several days ago announcing that he was home. Impulsively, she touched his name and her phone immediately dialed his number. Three rings later she heard his unmistakable baritone voice, “Hello?”

  Her heart was throbbing. Every time I talk to him, she thought. You’d think after a year and a half that I’d be over that by now. But no. Every damn time. “Hi, James, welcome home,” she managed.

  “Sarah!” She could hear his lips curl into a smile. “It’s so good to hear from you. How are things?”

  “I’m on my way back from Denver,” she explained. “You know, the annual conference.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, remembering his trip to Denver the previous March. “I come home and you leave,” he teased her. “Still trying to avoid me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you,” she defended herself. “I just wanted to give you a couple of days to settle in...reconnect with Maggie...” She tried not to choke on her name.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. She organized a huge welcome home party for me. Brought my entire family in from Ohio,” James revealed.

  She could hear the pride in his voice. Listen to what my fiancée did for me, he seemed to be saying, but not in a boastful way. In a “wow, I’m so lucky to have this amazing woman” sort of way. It took her a moment to process that, to pick up on the subtleties of his tone without the accompanying body language. But it was there. Clear as day.

  “That’s wonderful,” she finally said, willing her Auto Pilot to kick in and then amusing herself at the flight reference when she was, in fact, at the airport.

  “I want to take you for coffee,” James changed the subject. “Please? I want to catch up. I want to talk to you about Abby.”

  Why do I feel like he’s using Abby to try to convince me to see him? she wondered. Her nerves were fighting each other. Fight or flight. She’d fought this battle before, her natural instincts at odds with each other. One part of her wanted nothing more than to see those blue eyes light up when she entered the room, to see his trademark smirk spread across his face when he told a joke, to see those broad shoulders and thick, masculine hands....alas, my imagination is getting the best of me.

  “Sarah?” he interjected into the silence.

  The other side of her knew that seeing him would dredge up a million memories and feelings she’d just recently reconciled. She was finally able to think back on their relationship with no regrets. She’d had to undergo a ton of self-therapy, not to mention endless discussions with her mother, Rachel, Adam, Pawel and Garrett to achieve this feat. She didn’t want to lose ground. She had come to terms with the fact that she had lost him. She didn’t want to interfere with his relationship with Maggie. She didn’t want to tempt him.

  Mostly. I mostly don’t want to tempt him. On good days I don’t. On virtuous days. And this is such a day. “I will think about it, James, but honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She felt her pragmatism kick in.

  He seemed prepared to answer this argument. “I know you don’t, Sarah, but I have Maggie now and you have Garrett and there’s no reason we can’t be friends. I know what we shared was intense, but we can leverage that into a friendship. I know we can. We’ve both had some time to reflect and get our minds straight. I know we can do this.”

  Compelling, as always, she thought. He knew which buttons to push, telling her she was strong-willed enough to make this happen was a surefire way to bolster her. And he knows it, she thought. He knows exactly what makes me tick.

  “I’ll think about it, okay?” she repeated, more firmly this time.

  “Okay,” he conceded.

  Her tone softened as she prepared to let him go. “James, I am really glad you’re back,” she said, just before saying goodbye. “Welcome home.”

  ***

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chess

  It was Audition Day. This time Sarah and Garrett were en route to the community theater together. Abby had decided to sit this show out as she’d finally gotten her driver’s license, seemed to have a new love interest, and appeared more interested in exploring typical teen pursuits than committing her leisure time to a musical production. Sarah gave her daughter her blessing and was looking forward to hanging out with her castmates without constantly worrying that Abby would see or hear something she shouldn’t.

  “I truly loathe auditioning,” Garrett admitted to Sarah during their drive to the theater. She watched him grip the steering wheel tightly as he made his confession. He glanced over to witness her reaction and then quickly planted his eyes back on the road.

  “Really?” Sarah replied, shocked that Garrett would admit to being apprehensive about anything, particularly something at which he excelled so brilliantly.

  “Yeah, it’s so much different than actually performing,” he explained. “Once you have the role, you’ve been chosen, and you’ve got the confidence of the director and the cast, behind you. But when you’re auditioning, it’s just a big job interview, and you have to prove you can master the role. Plus you only get one shot.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Great, now I’m nervous too! I hope I’m not completely nuts for going out for a lead this time,” Sarah worried. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “You totally sell yourself short,” Garrett assured her. “You have a lovely voice, and you’re so headstrong. You’d make a perfect Florence.”

  “I still don’t really get what this show is about,” Sarah complained. “How can a musical about chess be compelling? I don’t get it.”

  “It’s the Cold War, Americans versus Soviets going head to head over the chessboard. There’s a blossoming love story, the Russian chess player defects, and then the CIA and KGB get involved. Plus the music is fantastic!” Garrett was animated, his passion inflamed. “What’s not to like?”

  Sarah shook her head, smiling. It was always a pleasure seeing The Navigator in action. What other (mostly) straight guy gets this hyped up about Broadway? she chuckled to herself. “So what are you singing today?” she asked him, trying to distract
herself from her own nervousness.

  “‘Pity the Child,’” he replied. “It’s the piece where the American chess player, Freddie, reveals his sad childhood and gains the audience’s empathy. You’ll like it. It shows off my range.” He seemed confident. Sarah wished she could harness some of his swagger.

  Her stomach was twisted in crampy knots. “I feel stupid for not singing something from the show,” she lamented. “I should have learned something new.” Or I should have just relegated myself to the chorus where I belong, she thought.

  “‘I Dreamed a Dream’ is a classic,” he argued. “I sang from Les Mis last time I auditioned - as you well remember - and I landed the lead. Trust me, you’ll do great.” He clasped her hand into his and steered with the other one.

  Chess. How symbolic, she thought. I’ve always said we are all chess pieces moving across the chessboard of life. But in the game of life, you can only control your own piece.

  ***

  “It’s strange to Skype with you and know you’re only thirty minutes away,” Abby laughed as James came into view.

  “I know,” he replied. “It’s good to be back! So what’s new with you?” He was wearing a loose plain white t-shirt that obscured his bulky arms and rippled chest.

  “Well,” Abby began, “first off, I’ve exchanged a few more emails with my dad and he and his daughters want to come out and meet me next month. He’s planning a family trip to Washington DC for my sisters and I’m part of their plans. It’s a pretty cool birthday present I think!”

  He’d almost forgotten that Abby’s birthday was the week before his. “What does your mom think of that?” he asked, trying to imagine Sarah readily accepting the idea, especially considering her reaction when her ex-husband had phoned last spring wanting to see Owen.

  “She’s been surprisingly cool about it,” Abby replied, smiling. James couldn’t believe how much older and more mature she seemed just in the year he’d known her. “Oh!” she suddenly shrieked, the sound piercing his ears, making him reconsider his assessment. “I got my driver’s license last week!” She held up the small laminated card to the camera and waved it excitedly.

  “Well, look at that,” James congratulated her, laughing at how quickly she could weave back and forth between hyper and demure. “That’s awesome! Are you getting a car?”

  Abby shook her head solemnly. “I don’t think so, sadly. You should really convince my mom to get me one for my birthday!” She peered at him with a hopeful expectation embedded in her blue-green eyes.

  James chuckled, “And what makes you think she’d listen to me? I can’t even get her to have coffee with me!”

  Surprise spread across Abby’s face at James’s unexpected admission. “Really? Why not?”

  I definitely should’ve not said that, he thought regretfully. “It’s not important.” Redirect. Redirect, he scrambled. “So what else is new?”

  Abby laughed, her tone and expression looking and sounding remarkably like her mother, James noticed. “Look at you changing the subject!” She shook her head at his sheepish grin. “Well, I am sort of talking to this new guy,” she admitted, going along with his attempt to distract her.

  “Oh yeah?” Yeah, let’s talk about boys instead, he thought with relief. That’s an easier topic than her mother. Who would have thought I’d ever say that? “What’s his name?” he delved into the new subject.

  “It’s Hunter,” she replied. “Isn’t that a romantic name?” James was sure she was blushing at the mention of him. “I don’t know if I’m really that into him but he asked me to prom and Chloe is going with some friend of his and my friend Bree from South Pacific is going to my school’s prom with this senior football player guy and I don’t want to be left out. Is that wrong?” She said it all in one breath, making James’ head spin trying to mentally organize all the names she’d just spouted.

  I need a flow chart to understand that! Shit, I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer questions about boys, he worried, suddenly paralyzed. “Um, well....,” he stalled, buying some time to formulate a passably wise response. “I guess as long as you don’t lead him on, it’s okay. Why don’t you tell him you want to go as friends?”

  “Yeah, that’s what my grandma said,” Abby reassured him. Suddenly her face grew very serious as if she’d just been testing him with the other query. A bait and switch. “I have another question for you.”

  James bristled again. As long as it’s not about boys this time. “Okay?” he asked, expectantly.

  Abby sighed as if she was gathering the courage to ask. “I just wondered,” she began meekly, “Do you know if my mom ever liked girls?”

  No. No, he thought, the one thing worse than dispensing advice about boys would be tackling questions regarding her mother’s sexuality. Hell no. Not touching that. Not with a ten foot pole. He smiled apologetically. “Abby, that’s something you should really ask your mother about.”

  She stared into the webcam so closely that her freckles showed, wearing the words “forlorn and dejected” all over her face, but slowly nodding her head in acceptance. “Okay, I figured you’d say that. I just wondered if you had ever talked about it.”

  “I like chatting with you quite a bit, and I don’t mind talking about most anything, but I really don’t feel comfortable talking about your mother,” James said. “I hope you understand.”

  Abby shrugged and forced a smile, seemingly aware that she would scare him from talking to her at all if she pushed him in that direction. “I get it. It’s cool. No problem.”

  James smiled too. “You’ll have to let me know how prom goes,” he said. “I remember mine like it was yesterday! Good times!” This topic feels more comfortable.

  “Oh yeah?” Abby asked, intrigued. “Why so memorable?”

  “No reason in particular.” Other than that’s when Maggie and I lost our virginity to each other. At the junior prom. “It was just a lot of fun getting to be grown ups for a night. Getting all dressed up. All that. Strangely enough, I’m about to marry my prom date! How many people can say that years later?”

  Abby’s smile faded as if she had just been hit over the head with the fact there was no chance James and her mother would get back together. “Got it,” she said curtly.

  He sensed the awkwardness rising up between them like a funnel cloud. I’m going to avoid this impending storm, he thought. “Alright, I gotta get going,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “Cool, thanks for chatting,” she said without inflection. Then her screen went black.

  ***

  Abby breezed through the kitchen where Sarah and Rachel sat sipping coffee and chatting, baby Amethyst happily cooing in her bouncy seat at her mother’s feet. She opened up the refrigerator and stood in front of it blankly, as if at any moment she expected the perfect meal to magically appear in front of her. After that failed to happen, she closed the door and spun around, facing her mother, a dazed look on her face as if it was just as vexing for her to produce speech as it was to find something to eat.

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah looked up from her conversation with her best friend. “You okay?” Her face was painted with concern. Teenagers wandering aimlessly through the kitchen pulling open doors and drawers is never a good sign, she thought.

  “Why won’t you see James?” she blurted out as if she had to get the question off her chest before she could resume her contemplation of the refrigerator’s contents.

  Sarah stiffened. She glanced at Rachel, whose eyebrow immediately raised in mutual curiosity. “Oh, Abby,” Sarah sighed, trying to decide what information she should divulge. “What did he tell you?”

  “He said you wouldn’t even have coffee with him,” Abby repeated.

  “I said I’d consider it,” Sarah shot back. “We’re talking. I just didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to see him.”

  “Because you still love him?” Abby guessed.

  Sarah felt her skin beginning to glow, involuntarily responding t
o the veracity of her daughter’s conjecture. She glared at Rachel as if she expected her friend to jump in and save the day. “Oh, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah,” Rachel finally admonished her. “Don’t you know? Talking leads to seeing....and seeing leads to fucking.”

  Abby’s eyes grew huge as she awaited her mother’s response. Sarah playfully slapped Rachel on the hand, shooting her “the look” for saying the F word in front of her impressionable young daughter. “Exactly,” she agreed after delivering the requisite stern reaction. “If I skip the ‘seeing’ part, then we won’t get to the...other part.”

  “The ‘fucking’ part?” Abby asked, still wide-eyed but finding it impossible not to smirk at the way the F word rolled off her tongue, as if it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the act of speaking it.

  Sarah knew her daughter was testing her boundaries, but she chose to ignore it. “Look, Abby, James is engaged. I don’t want to interfere, okay? And Rachel’s right, if I see him, then it may lead to things we will both regret.”

  “You want me to come play chaperone?” Abby offered, laughing. “I’ll make you both behave!” She stood with her hands on her hips, clearly finding the conversation much more entertaining than her mother did.

  Rachel chuckled, appreciating Abby’s sense of humor. “It’s not a terrible idea, you know,” she said, winking at Abby.

  Sarah exhaled loudly and then got up from the table, carrying the coffee mugs to the sink and rinsing them out. “Like I said,” she finally spoke, desperately trying to rid her tone of exasperation, “I’ll think about it.”