The Return

by Noelle Adams

  He grabbed another piece of cheese and a bottle of water, although he wasn’t really hungry anymore. Then he went to sit in the chair beside his grandfather’s bed and started waiting for the end.

  RIA WAS SURPRISED THE following morning when she didn’t hear from Jacob first thing.

  Not that he needed to call or text. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. A lot of people slept in late. He’d had a hard few weeks. He was probably exhausted. Maybe he was sleeping in. He’d touch base when he was up and ready.

  He didn’t need to call her at seven in the morning just because she was awake and wanting to hear from him.

  She did some laundry, drank coffee, and putzed on her phone for a while since this was one of the mornings she didn’t need to be in early. But eventually she had to take a shower so she could get to the shop by nine. She didn’t feel like working this morning. She wanted to spend the whole day with Jacob.

  But she realized how dangerous those feelings were—especially this early, when nothing was decided between them—so she tried to ball them up into a tight wad and stuff them back into a deep, dark hollow of her mind.

  At eight thirty, she was still thinking about him, no matter how rigorous her attempts to control her brain. She was on the edge of sending a quick text—just to check and see how he was doing—when her phone chimed.

  She grabbed it up and searched the screen to discover the text message wasn’t from Jacob.

  It was Martha.

  Don’t wanna overstep but you might get over here if you can. Jacob’s been up all night with his grandpa. I’m worried about him.

  Ria stared at the words until they processed. Then she sent a quick I’m coming! back with shaky fingers. She called up Skye to ask if she could cover the shop this morning, at least for an hour or so.

  When Skye agreed, Ria drove over, confused and worried and completely unsure of what she would find when she got there.

  What she found was a worried Martha, a mostly unconscious Mr. Worth, and a Jacob who looked dazed and pale and wouldn’t leave his grandfather’s bedside.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Jacob mumbled when he finally registered Ria’s presence in the room.

  “I was worried about you,” she said, stepping over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “So is Martha. You need to get a little rest and eat something.” She gave him a gentle pull.

  He resisted with a scowl. “I’m not going to leave him alone!”

  She winced and looked down at old Mr. Worth. He was evidently still breathing, but she didn’t see any evidence of it. She’d never seen anyone this close to death before. Her parents had died in a car accident, and Belinda had been the one to identify their bodies in the morgue.

  Ria hadn’t been able to do it. She’d seen them all fixed up for the viewing at the funeral, but she’d hated that. It hadn’t been them. It had been fake, empty copies of the people they used to be.

  This was different. Mr. Worth seemed to be dying every moment she stood there.

  “I’ll sit with him,” Martha said quietly. “I’ll sit here for a couple of hours so you can rest. He won’t be alone if he goes. I promise.”

  Jacob’s face twisted dramatically. He was staring at the floor.

  She rubbed his broad shoulder. “Come rest for an hour, baby. I’ll stay with you. Please.”

  He raised his head to stare at her blankly. She wasn’t even sure if he was seeing her or understanding until he gave a jerky nod.

  She led him out of the room while Martha took his place in the chair.

  Jacob was really out of it—more from emotional strain than exhaustion, she suspected. She guided him to the bedroom that had always been his and pushed him toward the bed. “Lie down for a while.”

  When it looked like he was about to climb into bed with his clothes and shoes on, she stopped him. “You’re still wearing your painted-on stuff. Take them off so you’ll be more comfortable.”

  He did what she said without argument. He still seemed to be in a daze. She watched as he toed off his shoes, pulled off his T-shirt, and shucked his jeans. He got into bed in his boxers and socks.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d been planning to do, but the sight of him there was too much for her. With her heart lodged hard in her throat, she took off her shoes and climbed into bed beside him, wrapping him in her arms.

  He hugged her back, and they lay together like that for a few minutes. His body was tense and shaking slightly and hot as fire. She hated that he was holding everything in like this. He was feeling so much and wouldn’t let it out. It was paralyzing him.

  She squeezed him and stroked his back and thick hair. His breath was loud and raspy in the otherwise silent room. Occasionally the bed squeaked when one of them moved.

  “It’s okay to grieve,” she murmured at last, needing to say something—anything—that might help. “It’s okay to be sad that you’re losing him. Jacob, it’s okay. You’re allowed.” She pulled back from the full-body hug enough to see his face.

  He was pale, the dark scruff on his jaw a dramatic contrast to the shade of his skin. He gave a dry huff. “He would hate that. He always wanted me to be a man.”

  “You are a man. Men grieve too.” Tears were beading in her eyes, just on the edge of falling. She moved her hand so she could cup one of his cheeks. “He was wrong, Jacob. You know he was wrong. You know it, so why are you acting like he was right? Men can feel things. Men can be soft. Men can be emotional. They’re human beings just like women are, and all of us are made to feel as much as we’re made to think and do. He was wrong, Jacob. Please don’t believe him now.”

  Jacob was leaning his face into her hand. He was trembling more intensely now. He didn’t make a single sound.

  “Oh baby,” she rasped. “You can love him and still admit he was wrong.” She was reaching desperately, searching for anything she could say that might help.

  For some reason that was the thing that did it. He made a choking sound and gathered her against his chest, squeezing her tightly as he finally let go of the desperate grip he’d had on his feelings. His body was racked with silent sobs as he hugged her.

  She hugged him back, feeling like her arms were the only thing holding him together.

  It lasted only a few minutes until his body started to soften, grow still. She loosened her arms, gently caressing his hair.

  “I do love him,” he said at last, thick and soft.

  “I know you do.”

  “I thought I hated him, but I don’t.”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “But I’m still so angry about... and that makes me feel so guilty.”

  “It’s okay to be angry. You can love him and still be angry. You can do both. Our hearts are big enough to hold both those things at once. Love is big enough for both.”

  He let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

  “But don’t let him turn you into a hard, cold reflection of the man you really are. He was wrong to ever want that, so don’t let that be his legacy. He wanted you to be happy in the end. He was worried about it. He asked me to check on you. He loved you, despite everything. Let that be his legacy.”

  Jacob made a strangled sound and tightened his arms almost painfully for a few moments. Then he relaxed with a long exhale. “Yeah.”

  When she felt his body soften completely, she pulled back again to check his face. He looked okay now. Soft and groggy and emotional but not with that aching tension anymore. She kissed him, intending it to only be a quick, tender gesture. But his mouth clung to hers needily, and her heart couldn’t help but respond.

  They kissed for a few minutes, gentle and needy and almost clumsy. Ria was feeling more tender than sexy, but gradually she was aware of how Jacob’s body was tightening and warming. He was growing hard in his boxers. She could feel the length of him against her middle as they kissed.

  Making a decision quickly, she pushed him over onto his back and started kissing her way down his chest.

&nbs
p; “What are you doing, sweet...” His voice trailed off as her mouth got lower. His eyes were closed, and his neck arched slightly.

  She carefully pulled down his underwear and took his erection in both her hands.

  He was moaning uninhibitedly, shifting his hips restlessly. He clearly didn’t have any of his typical control.

  “Oh fuck, Ria,” he choked out when she adjusted her position and then licked a line down the underside of his shaft. “Fuck, you don’t have to... Oh fuck, that feels so... You don’t need to...”

  “Shh.” She kissed him, tender despite the carnal act. “I want to do this for you.”

  He groaned again when she took him full in her mouth, wrapping her fingers around the base to hold him in position. His hips started rocking up toward her in tight, hungry pumps, and she did her best to accommodate the motion. She wasn’t very good at this. She hadn’t really had a lot of practice. But she did the best she could, and it was obviously working for Jacob.

  He grunted steadily as she applied hard suction, his body rocking like a wave beneath her. He was gripping her hair in one big fistful, but he wasn’t pulling on it. Just holding on.

  She sucked him off until his body tensed palpably. Then he came before she knew to expect it, jerking his hips and letting out a long, uninhibited moan of pleasure as he came in fast spurts into her mouth.

  She straightened up afterward, wiping her lips and trying not to make a face about the taste. His eyes were closed anyway. He was still holding on to her hair.

  She’d never seen a human face as utterly replete as his was. She’d never experienced anything even close to the pride and pleasure and possessiveness she was feeling right now.

  Toward him.

  He dragged her down into a hug, finding her lips in a sweet, sloppy kiss. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I told you. I wanted to.”

  “You want me to—”

  “No. I’m good. You rest for an hour or so.”

  “Don’t let me sleep too long.”

  “I won’t. I’ll wake you up. I promise.”

  He pressed kisses into her hair. “I love you, sweetheart. You know that, right? I always loved you, and I’ve never stopped.”

  She froze at the words, trapped with fear and joy and excitement and absolute indecision. When she adjusted to see his face, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing evenly.

  He’d fallen asleep.

  Just as well.

  She gave him a featherlight kiss. “I never stopped loving you either,” she whispered. Then she climbed out of bed and left him alone to rest.

  JACOB WOKE UP LESS than two hours later when Ria came in to wake him up. For a moment he was completely disoriented, unsure where he was or what day and time it was. Then it came rushing back to him.

  What had happened in bed between him and Ria was blurred around the edges—a hot, intense rush of feelings. But he felt like a different man right now, and he knew exactly what Ria had done for him.

  And only a little of it was the blow job.

  He tried to express his appreciation, but she was acting a little skittish so he couldn’t get many words out. It wasn’t the right time for that kind of discussion anyway.

  His grandfather was still alive, but just barely.

  He took the sandwich that Ria offered him, and then he went to sit beside the old man’s bed until it was over.

  It took two more hours as his breath grew faint and raspy. He reached over every fifteen minutes to check his pulse. It had always been there but faint.

  But it wasn’t there anymore.

  He leaned over to check his breath.

  Nothing.

  He looked over at the other side of the bed where Martha had been sitting all morning. The woman started to cry.

  Unable to speak through the lump in his throat, Jacob turned to the doorway of the room. Ria had come in a few minutes ago. He’d felt her there, although he hadn’t turned to look.

  She hurried over now and put a hand on his back. “I’ll call it in,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he managed to say.

  He felt a couple of tears on his face as he turned to look again at what was left of his grandfather. The man—the real man—wasn’t there anymore.

  He’d been family. He’d tried his best. He hadn’t done right by Jacob, but he’d loved him in the end.

  Jacob wanted to do better. He was going to do better. He wasn’t going to wait until the end to be the man he was supposed to be.

  Nine

  TWO DAYS LATER, RIA was standing next to Jacob at the graveside of his grandfather.

  Mr. Worth hadn’t wanted a full formal funeral. Just a service at the graveside with a reception to follow. A lot of the town had turned out, spilling out in uneven bunches around the casket, plot, and Methodist minister. The folks on the outskirts weren’t likely to be able to hear the familiar passage from Isaiah or the prayer, but everyone knew “It Is Well with My Soul,” so the words to the old hymn echoed through the cemetery.

  Mr. Worth hadn’t been a soft or friendly man, but he’d been one of the bedrocks of Azalea for a really long time, so everyone came to pay their respects.

  Ria didn’t know how to feel. She’d known Mr. Worth all her life, but she’d never really liked him. She’d transitioned between fear and annoyance, and for the past five years she’d thought very little about him at all.

  But she was worried for Jacob, who was stiff and silent beside her. The emotion he’d been willing to share with her he wouldn’t dream of displaying to anyone else. His handsome face was stoic. Set in an expression of unyielding passivity. She clung to his arm and could feel how tense the muscles were under the fabric of his dark suit.

  As the minister began his short homily about the hope of the resurrection, Ria looked at the gathered faces surrounding them. Since Jacob was the only family Mr. Worth had had, she and her friends had helped to fill that place. Belinda was standing on the other side of Ria. Skye and her family were on their right, and on the other side were Madeline and her boyfriend, Josh.

  Jacob didn’t like Josh. He’d told Ria the other day that he’d been selfish and mean-spirited as a boy—all hidden by his popular charisma—and the years hadn’t improved him. Jacob thought Madeline could do better, a sentiment that had occasionally flickered through Ria’s mind over the years.

  But it wasn’t something that could be easily brought up to a friend, and if Madeline was happy, she wasn’t going to get in the way of it.

  This wasn’t the time to be worrying about it anyway.

  Madeline’s brother, Matthew, had driven in from Richmond for the funeral. He was a big, handsome, serious man with a thoughtful expression and hair that gleamed gold in the sun.

  Across from them stood Ken, the county sheriff, standing next to his two daughters and his ex-wife. As she was looking in their direction, Ken’s gaze met and held hers. He’d been the one to show up on her doorstep a few years ago to let her know that her parents had died in the car accident. He’d been so careful and gentle as he’d broken the news. His voice had cracked with emotion more than once.

  Ken gave her a slight nod now. The simple gesture seemed to reflect sympathy, kindness, understanding.

  Connection.

  Ria smiled at him and turned to check Jacob’s face, but he was staring straight ahead, seeing nothing.

  She knew that everyone around them now assumed she and Jacob were a done deal. That they were together for real. That soon she’d be getting a ring. They’d get married. They’d start a family. A few of the laundromat ladies were smiling at her with maternal pride, as if she’d finally gotten what she’d been waiting for.

  The idea made Ria’s stomach twist.

  She loved Jacob. Of course she did. He was one of the emotional pillars of her life. But she’d never made a conscious decision about her relationship with him. They’d just sort of fallen together.

  And the fear th
at one day when life got too hard or hurt too much, he’d just take off again—run away like he had before—was still a sharp blade in her chest.

  It could happen like it had happened before. What if it did? Where would that leave her?

  No matter how confused and pressing those questions were, she didn’t have the mental space to deal with them right now. The homily was over, and they were singing “Amazing Grace.”

  When the final prayer was spoken, Jacob turned and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her for a long time in silence. She could feel his affection, his gratitude, his faith in her. She could feel it in the tension of his body and the press of his strong arms.

  It meant something to her. It meant a lot.

  He loved her.

  But he’d loved her back in high school, and he’d left her just the same.

  THAT EVENING, RIA CAME home at just after eight. Both she and Jacob had had long days—long weeks—and neither of them were in the mood for sex. Jacob had told her she could stay and sleep with him for the night—and she could see on his face that he would have liked that—but she was feeling too confused, too crowded. Rushed into a relationship she hadn’t actually said yes to. She needed a little space for herself, so she’d kissed him and told him she’d see him tomorrow.

  She was exhausted and a little sick to her stomach as she walked in through the kitchen door, tossed her purse on the table, and then slumped into the living room to collapse on her dad’s old recliner.

  Belinda was on the couch, working on her laptop, but she put it down when she saw Ria. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you and Jacob are a definite thing now?” Belinda was always like that. Blunt. To the point. Not hedging around hard questions.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It sure seems like Jacob thinks so.”

  “I know that.” When Ria’s voice rose and cracked, she cleared her voice and added, “I know.”

  Belinda was eyeing her with dark eyes that missed very little. “He’s obviously gone on you.”