by Ann, Jewel E
Her most wildly entertained date held his index finger to his lips over his permanent smile.
Taking the hint, she lowered her voice, not realizing how loud she had been. “What I mean is I have some things to attend to in the sex department.”
Biting his lips together, he nodded. “More preparation?”
With inebriated confidence she sat up ramrod straight and nodded. “Exactly.”
“Mmm … I see, well you didn’t finish telling me about Maddie.”
Her posture sank again. “Oh Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. She’s so aanng-ger-ee with me all the time. I’m trying to protect her from him, but she just doesn’t see the whole picture.”
“Him?”
“The ex. He’s not a nice man.” She slid her celery in and out of her mouth, running her tongue down the center groove.
Jackson cleared his throat. “You’re not eating that celery like we can’t have sex. You need to take a bite or put it back in your glass … now.”
Ryn bit into it, eyes wide, then she chewed it slowly, keeping her gaze locked to his.
“That’s better. Now … the ex, why is he not a nice man?”
“He has too much money and anger management issues.”
“Anger management issues?”
Ryn tapped her fingernail against the side of her glass, exhaling a breathy laugh. “I’m a little inebriated. A couple swigs past tipsy, but not officially drunk. Talking about the ex is not a good idea right now. He probably has someone following me and listening in on our conversation.”
Jackson took a slow glance over his shoulder. “Why would he have someone follow you?”
“Because he’s a psycho,” she whispered in his ear then chuckled. “If he gets within a football field of me, he’ll be arrested. Sometimes I feel like someone is following me, but I can never detect who. It’s just an unsettling feeling.”
“So it was physical abuse?”
Ryn twisted her lips. “Hmm … yeah, I’d say seven trips to various hospitals in less than a year would qualify as physical abuse.”
Jackson didn’t flinch or even blink. Most people had some sort of involuntary reaction if she confessed her past.
“It started years ago when Maddie was a baby.” Ryn rested her elbow on the table then her chin on her hand. “I think you should take me home.” She yawned. “We’ve been here less than an hour, and I’ve consumed way too much alcohol in that short amount of time. I’m off kilter around you.”
He grinned behind the mouth of his beer bottle as he took the last swig. “Why is that?”
There was the lack of sex with something or someone other than an inanimate vibrating object, the age difference flashing in neon, and the nervous vibe that someone set everything up as a joke. At any given moment it seemed possible that her friends and family could jump out and yell surprise or gotcha—a fortieth birthday prank of sorts. Ha ha. Ryn actually thought this guy was interested in her.
“Why is that … good question. Let me see, you kinda came out of nowhere. You have this Magic Mike stripper’s body—”
“Who’s Magic Mike?”
Her laugh came out as a cough. “It doesn’t matter. My point is you’re unexpected … too unexpected. I’m trying to make sense of this little game we’re playing. I’m on the cusp of losing my youth, truthfully I’ve already lost it, but I enjoy the warm comfort of denial. Then you swoop in just before I turn forty and kiss me like we’re teenagers, joke about marrying me, and the way you look at me … well, there are no words.” Closing her eyes she shook her head. The alcohol was no match for how dizzy she felt under the intensity of his gaze.
“These little muscles in your jaw twitch when I look at you. I like to imagine they’re the gatekeepers to the words you’re dying to say … the ones that I’m certain will land you naked in my bed.” Jackson rolled his lips between his teeth and studied her, always with a look of intrigue. “Then you swallow hard about every ten seconds. Need I tell you what image that conjures in my head? But then I feel your heavy breaths, even though I know you’re trying to control them, and swear I can actually hear your heart beating in your chest. I know you say we can’t have sex, but I say it’s too late. These little things you do fuck me in ways I never imagined possible. No matter what I say, you never look away. Your eyes can’t hide what your body tries to deny.”
Pantyliner. Ryn needed a pantyliner to absorb whatever trickled down her sex. In a desperate prayer she hoped it was her melting libido and not the untimely arrival of her unpredictable “friend.” Did he see that in her eyes? Fear. Embarrassment. Anguish.
“You should go pull the car up front.”
He narrowed his eyes, but only for a second. “Okay.”
Her living dream disappeared out the door. His car was twenty yards from the entrance to the bar. It wasn’t raining, and she gave no explanation for her odd request. Yet, he did it—no questions asked. The undefinable connection between them began taking on a life of its own. It was a lucid dream, and anyone who tried to wake her would be murdered—unless she herself died of embarrassment first.
“Please don’t let Bloody Mary be the theme for the night,” she whispered to herself, making a quick dash to the restroom.
No blood.
Ryn sighed as she dealt with the juice fest in her nether region with the most unpredictable terrain. One day sex felt like trying to start a fire with flint and metal, the next day just the thought of sex brought on a tsunami of secretions. Jackson was the earthquake that triggered that tsunami. Her cotton panties were drenched and sadly, she had a wet spot on the backside of her skirt to prove it.
“Lovely,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder with her back to the mirror.
A quick air-dry later, she wormed her way through the growing bar crowd to the wood-paneled chariot.
“Ryn?”
She turned before opening the car door.
“I thought that was you.”
Eyes wide like the dots to two big question marks, she smiled. “Hi … uh…”
“Brad. We had coffee about a year ago.”
Ryn nodded but her brain shook its head at the complete lack of recognition.
“My daughter, Nora, went on a spring break trip with Maddie. We had coffee at the airport waiting for their flight to arrive.”
“Yes, I remember.” She finally did. Brad was in his fifties, but his loss of hair since she last saw him added another decade to his physical appearance, especially since he refused to just shave it all. The wispy combed-over strands were not attractive.
“You look amazing.”
“Oh, well, thank you.”
His inspection of her amazingness gave her a bad case of the creeps. “My divorce is final now. We should go out sometime for more than just coffee.”
“That’s a nice offer, but I …”
“You?” He inched closer.
“She’s taken.”
Ryn jumped.
Jackson stepped out of the vehicle, resting his arms on the roof.
“Oh, hi.” Brad smiled. “I didn’t realize Maddie had a brother.”
Ryn closed her eyes. There wasn’t a depth of hell deep enough to escape the humiliation.
“Funny guy. If you’re lucky, Ryn will get in the car before I have a chance to teach you a little lesson in manners.”
Brad held up his hands. “Sorry, man. Honest mistake.” He tipped up his chin. “See you around, Ryn.”
“Oh my God.” She sank into the seat and yanked at the seat belt, fumbling to fasten it. “That was the worst reality check ever.”
Jackson pulled away from the curb. “That you’re taken?”
“What? Taken? Are you serious? I’m taken alright. Taken for a fool. Who am I kidding? I’m not old enough to be your mother, but he thought so. What does that say about me?”
“He’s an idiot.”
“He wasn’t trying to be mean. It was an observation.”
Jackson shrugged. “You don’t look old. I look young. It’s this
new moisturizer I’ve been using. I think it’s cut my wrinkles in half.”
The tight purse of her lips could not deter her smile. “Shut up. You’re so full of shit.”
“I’m not. It has this coconut oil base, and I dab just a little around my eyes at night before bed.”
“Enough. Just … don’t speak.” She laughed. “My ego needs a few moments of silence to grieve.”
All talk ceased as his hand took hers. She looked at their interlaced fingers and then at him. He could take her absolutely anywhere.
Chapter Eleven
A crisp, cool morning breeze crept though the western-facing window. The bed creaked with distress as Jillian flailed, tangling the sheet around her body and burying her head under the pillows.
“Jesus! What’s that sound?” Tearing the pillow from her face and flinging it across the room, she opened her eyes.
“Morning.” Jackson smiled around the tiny straw in his mouth and continued slurping the nearly empty contents of a juice box. “These are good. You should get them more often.”
Stretching on a big yawn, she rolled her head side to side. “Those are for the five-year-old twins staying with us. But I guess you’re not too far off, so …”
“You look like crap.” He shot the empty juice box across her room to the trash and of course he made it.
“Thank you. I love you too.”
“I told you inviting the ex-wife and her family to stay with us was monumentally stupid.”
Sitting up, she crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees. “Nice try, but that’s not it. AJ’s parents want him to move back to Portland for his treatment.”
“But he said no?”
“He hasn’t decided.”
“I’ll be back.” Jackson turned and Jillian leaped out of bed to chase after him, stopping him at the front door.
“Don’t you dare. You’ll have to go through me to get to him.” She stood tall, which was still short, and fisted her hands on her hips.
Jackson raised a single brow. “You do realize our sparring is for practice and exercise, but in a no-holds-barred situation I would take you down because I’m just physically that much stronger than you, right?”
“Maybe, but if I have to defend AJ from you, I won’t fight fair.”
“Which brings me to my next point.” With a wide stance, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m doing this for you.”
“On our way back from Portland AJ hit me so you hit him back. I get it, even if I let him do it. But this isn’t about me and that’s what hurts the most. I have to let him make his own decisions and in the end he might not choose me. Hell … he might not even choose himself. The love he has for his family is admirable, it’s us, Jackson.”
The growing lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. “If I were dying would you let me go … would you let me die in the arms of anyone else?”
Jackson flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“Agreed. Life is not fair, but it’s all we have. I’ll let him go and so will you.” She pushed his arms away from his chest and hugged him.
“You want to go with him.”
She nodded. “But I’m not.” A painful laugh broke from her chest. “He didn’t ask me … and I don’t think he will.”
Jackson kissed the top of her head. “He’s a fool.”
Resting her forehead on his sternum, she nodded. “Tell me a story, like a Sesame Street story.”
“Pfft … none of that.” He retreated to the kitchen, stealing another juice box from the refrigerator. “Ryn agreed to marry me.”
“Peachy.” Jillian hopped up on the counter and took the juice box Jackson offered. “When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t set a date yet. I think I should ask her father first.”
“Good call. She give you her virginity yet?”
A small smirk grew around his straw. “She has a daughter—twenty-one.”
“You should ask for her permission as well. I’m guessing it’s proper etiquette. Though she won’t give it to you.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s going to be pissed that her ‘old’ mom is marrying a guy that she wants to nail.”
Jackson tossed the box in the trash and grabbed a Red Bull to wash down the juice. “I’m pretty sure a woman can’t actually ‘nail’ a guy—not the right equipment. I can’t believe you sold enough Lascivio crap to win a car. You’re clearly not the sexpert everyone thinks you are.”
“Whatever. So how did it happen?”
“The proposal?”
“Yes. Did you get down on one knee and all that jazz?”
“Nope. I gave her the option of marriage or meaningless sex. She thought about it for a while and chose marriage. I think it was a good choice. But I also think it’s going to be a while before we have sex. For some reason she feels the need to ‘prepare’ herself. What do you think that means?”
Jillian giggled. “I’m not sure. She’s pushed a baby out of her vagina so accommodating your wee little penis shouldn’t be the issue.”
That earned her an exaggerated eye roll.
“Maybe…” she held up her index finger “…she doesn’t think that’s the hole you’re going to use.”
“Really? You think she’s preparing herself for anal sex with me?”
“No, not really.” She returned the same eye roll. “I think you make her completely self-conscious. She probably has a bit of overgrowth.”
“Pubic hair?”
“Maybe.”
“Huh … maybe I should tell her I’ve had sex with women who have pubic hair and it’s no big deal.”
They both laughed.
“Yes, there might even be an e-card that says that. No sense in beating around the bush.”
“Good morning.”
Jillian hopped off the counter.
“Hey, Brooke.”
Jackson gave her a half-smile and went to his room.
“He didn’t have to leave … unless you two were talking about me?”
“No.” Jillian laughed. “Unless you have pubic hair.”
An uneasy smile tugged at Brooke’s mouth. “I … I have some.”
Jillian’s smile doubled. It wasn’t a question and the fact that Brooke shared that personal bit of information with her was too hard to take seriously. “A landing patch?”
“Huh?”
Jillian shook her head. “Never mind. So how’d you sleep?”
Brooke shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Honestly, not so good. I can’t stop thinking about Cage. He’s not going to take the news about AJ very well. He idolizes his dad. That’s why he’s here. Cage couldn’t wait to graduate high school so he could move closer to AJ.”
“Then I’m even more surprised AJ’s parents want him to move to Portland and leave Cage behind.”
Brooke gave Jillian an uneasy look. “Cage is one of the reasons they want him to come to Portland. They don’t want him feeling the burden of being pulled between football, school, and AJ’s treatment. And …”
“And?”
Brooke released a heavy breath. “Jim’s worried that AJ could do something.”
“Something?”
A single nod. “He thinks AJ could become suicidal if or when things get bad.”
Every ounce of her wanted to refute what Brooke said, but she couldn’t. Of course AJ would rather die than live in misery or be a burden to anyone around him. Jillian would have been the same way.
The dense silence weighed heavily in the room.
“So, anyway, are you joining us at Lilith’s for tea and coffee in a little bit?”
“I have something I need to do before we leave for the game later.”
Brooke nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you a little later then.”
Jillian’s mouth pulled into a tight smile.
*
Dark, full clouds stretched for miles. Mother Nature painted the sky to match the mood. Perhaps it was to gi
ve the Monaghan family permission to feel sad. So much sadness.
“Jillian.” Jim answered the door. “I assumed you’d be having coffee with the ladies.”
“Not this morning. Is AJ here?”
“He’s still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Char said he was awake most of the night. Migraine.”
She frowned. Guilt for not being there seeped into her conscience.
“I’ll tell him you stopped by when he wakes.”
There was no need. Jim didn’t know Jillian and since he said she should leave, then he most certainly didn’t understand her relationship with his son.
“Actually, I’m going to peek in on him.” She stepped past him, not waiting for his approval.
“I’m not sure that’s the best id—”
“It’s fine. You should go see if Dodge needs an excuse to leave the hen house.”
“Well, okay … I guess.”
“Bye, Jim.” She waved without another look back.
The room was black, trapped in silence until Jillian gently shut the bedroom door behind her. Breathing in a shaky breath, she slipped off her boots and clothes, then slid under the sheet.
AJ didn’t move. Pressing her lips to his shoulder, she waited to feel his heart … waited to feel his next breath. His chest rose and fell in a long, relaxed breath, and she sighed.
“I’d take it from you if I could. You have so much more to live for than I do,” she whispered, resting her hand against the side of his head as he continued to sleep. “I forgive you.” Uninvited tears stung her eyes. “I know you’re going to leave me.” She bit her upper lip, hard. “It’s okay to go. They need you more.”
Maybe someday it would be okay for her to need someone more than anyone else. Then again, maybe she was the ultimate survivor and needed no one. Who could live like that?
“What if I need you more?” AJ whispered, startling Jillian.
Resting her cheek on his back, she snaked her arms around his waist. He grabbed her hands and squeezed them, wringing the tears from her eyes—the life from her soul.
“Then I’m the luckiest woman alive. And I know I am … but not because you’re going to stay. It’s because I’ve had the privilege of loving a man that’s going to be completely selfless and go home for all the right reasons.”
