"Oh, yeah," I breathed. "I didn't know who he was at first. He looked kind of familiar, you know? But I didn't know that my Jack was the Jax."
"And?" he rumbled his question, drawing it out.
"And, I like my Jack," I answered, sure in my heart about what I felt. "Actually, I think I love him."
I got a quick worried glance at my reply.
"Uhm, Baby Girl? Rockers aren't like everyone else. Especially Jax, because he grew up in the business," Sarge warned.
"I get it," I said back. "I think, at least with what he's told me, he doesn't want that life anymore."
"It's a hard life to give up, Lace," Sarge said thoughtfully. "Like him, love him. Just be aware that this may all be new territory for him."
"That's kind of what he says. Jack says what we've got is new to him," I admitted. "I don't know what that means and, right now, I don't think I want to."
"So you guys talk about that stuff?" the older man asked.
"Yeah. Not often, but he does talk about it."
"Good," Sarge said firmly, shooting me another glance, grinning.
"Yeah, good," I agreed with a smile.
Actually, Sarge was a great companion for shopping, pointing out the differences in the prices and the brands, making jokes and singing the jingles for some of the stuff we saw throughout the store.
"You're cute. You remind me so much of Lilly at your age," he said at one point.
"What a nice thing to say! Thanks."
"No, really, Lace. She was something, your grandmother, back in the day. I probably should've married her and made all this legal," he rumbled from his elbowed-hunch over the push bar of the shopping cart.
"Made what legal?" I asked, distracted by the BOGO, the buy-one, get-one deal, on chicken breasts.
"Me and her. You and me," he replied as he gazed over the line of pork chops, set up like soldiers on a battlefield in the display case.
"You and me?" I asked, turning back towards him.
He just stared at me.
"Aw shit. You don't know," he said, with a frown. We were almost the only ones in the giant store, the sound of the intercom's music loud without any other customers.
I wasn't going to continue to echo him, however I wished I knew what he was talking about.
"Lacey," he started, before I saw him swallow. "Baby Girl, I'm your grandpa."
Wait…what?
He didn't say anything else. I didn't either as we stood in the meat aisle and simply stared at each other.
I found myself, ass to floor, with him kneeling in front of me snapping his fingers, calling my name.
Oh. My. God.
I raised a hand as I captured his bearded chin.
"Say it again," I demanded in a weak voice.
"I'm your grandfather, Lacey," he growled, strong and firm. "I never married Lilly, but we were always together, well off and on. Belinda is our daughter which makes you my granddaughter."
"That's why you've always been around," I mumbled, my mind going back to all the times I'd been with Grandma when things had gone bad with my mom. All those Christmases, those birthdays when he'd been a shadow, hovering just in the background.
"Yep," he admitted as he slowly eased me back up onto my feet and held me steady.
"But…" I started, trying to grab just one cohesive thought from the whirls of my mind. "I mean…"
"Slow down, sweetness," Sarge said, settling me in the driver's place of the cart, putting his hands next to mine on the handle. I could feel his large chest against my back as he began to push. "Take a breath, okay? I thought Lilly told you, so I never said nothing."
We walked a few paces. I was glad for the feel of his strength against me since my legs were wobbly.
"Do you want me to talk or just let you think?" he asked, as he walked us down another aisle in the empty supermarket.
"Talk," I replied.
"Lilly and I grew up together in Grass Valley," he started. "We were two of the town's first hippies. Into all of that peace, love, dove shit. Long hair, tie-dye and beads. And music. Oh, Christ, Lace. The music!"
He was quiet again. I wondered if he was lost in memories as much as I was.
"I got into the guitar while she did the pottery thing when we were in high school. By the time we graduated, I was playing in a band. She was hanging with the artsy-fartsy people that I couldn't stomach. We'd get together when I wasn't touring and the next thing I knew, she'd had a baby girl. Said it was mine. She'd named her 'Belinda' after my grandma Stevens."
I remained quiet, listening to the growl of his voice, feeling the vibrations of his rumbles against my back as we aimlessly meandered the aisles.
"We weren't together-together because she said she didn't want to be on the road. Her work was too important, too stationary to follow me where ever the 'Wastrels' were travelling, who were just an opening act for other, better known, bands. So she stayed home, yet every time I came back it was just Lilly and me. Connected, you know?" I heard him ask as his chin hit my shoulder.
I nodded mainly because I didn't want to interrupt. Grandma Lilly had never talked about the past. I wasn't going to do or say anything to stop this walk down memory lane.
"Well, time went by. I got out of rock and started doing motorcycles. Lilly took what her folks had left her and bought Billy Bob's. Turned it into a bakery. Named it after you, Lace. Did you know that was my mother's name?" he asked, the sound of his voice coming from directly over me.
I shook my head.
"It was when I came back home, got my shit together, I realized how much I loved her. And, she loved me, Lace. We just couldn't live together. We tried. Oh, Baby Girl, we tried so many times except Lil' liked her own space. Liked living life by her own rules and didn't want me screwing with it. I don't blame her," he said, a note of finality in his voice. "But, I miss her every fucking day of my life."
I stopped my feet, unable to move, dropped my head to my hands on the bar of the cart. This was almost too much for me to handle. I couldn't help the flow of my tears.
"Here's what you need to know, Lace, okay? Then I'll shut up about it," he said, leaning over me, still speaking tenderly. So freaking tender.
"For me and Lilly? The sun rose and set on you, darlin'. It still does."
That's the Lacey which the pictures in the papers showed.
Me with red, swollen, still wet eyes walking next to a huge, bald-headed man with multiple facial piercings and a braided beard through a supermarket parking lot in the middle of the night.
The headlines later read, "Jax Jilted - His New Love Steps Out".
Oh, rum balls.
*.*.*.*.*
He saw her face, the slope of her shoulders when she'd exited the truck from his place at the upstairs window.
Something was wrong even though he didn't know what it was.
Zooming down the stairs he flew through the house, straight off the porch to pull her to him.
"What's wrong?" he asked angrily. If Sarge hurt her, so help him, God…
"Paps got wind of her. They were waiting outside the store," Sarge explained. "But, most of it is on me, Dude."
"Stop," she mumbled from his chest, pushing away before grabbing a couple of the many bags in the bed of the truck. "I'll tell you later."
Jax let her go, grabbing finger-fulls of the plastic bags, taking them inside.
He and Sarge emptied the back of the truck before Sarge said, "I've got to hit it. See you, Jax."
The old man made his way to Lacey to hug her tightly, saying something soft and gentle from the look on his girl's face.
"Back at you, Girl," he rumbled before leaving.
"What was that about?" Jax asked tightly. Seemed like the old man was getting along a little too well with his Lace.
"Turns out, he's my grandpop," she said. Jax watched her body still, the words still hovering in the air between them.
"No shit?" he breathed.
"No, baby. He broke it down for me," she sa
id, one hand clutching the back of a chair, the other on her mouth. She raised her eyes; eyes that were swimming in tears. "He and Lilly…"
"Oh, Baby," he groaned as he moved to her.
"God, what a cry baby, huh?" she said, raising her head from his chest.
"Nah, it's just been an emotional day," His voice was a gentle whisper. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Well, I still have some questions…" she began.
Jax chuckled, interrupting her.
"I meant at the store, Lace," he said.
She tilted her head up, her clear, bright frosted eyes stuck on his. "Yeah, honey, I did," she affirmed.
"The questions can wait. Let's get this stuff put away and then…"
"Then?" she asked.
"Yeah. Then," he breathed.
It was later. Much, much later with many moans, groans and cries filling the air before they were finally still. Lace was curled into him as they both tried to catch their breath.
"Your lip is bleeding again," she murmured as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip, bringing it up so he could see.
Yeah, he knew.
It'd happened off and on every time they partied naked together. Well, every time actually, except she'd only ever seen it twice. All the other times he'd hidden or caught it before she became aware of the blood from where he'd bit his lip.
All because of the words.
The words, nasty words, that crept up his throat. The dirty words and phrases he wanted to say to her as they worked each other's bodies. Words that he didn't think Lace would like, wouldn't find as hot as he did. Words that could eject him from her body and their shared bed.
So he bit them back both figuratively and physically.
She levered up on one elbow and reached across him for a tissue before beginning to blot at his lip.
"Is this still from when you fell?" she asked, her eyes on his mouth.
"Kind of," he said.
He felt her pull back as she looked at him.
"What does that mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"Ah. I like to talk, Lace," he said slowly.
He watched as she nodded.
"Uhm. Like, you know, when we're doing things. Together things," he said, trying to explain without really explaining.
Aw, shit. She was frowning now.
"I want to talk dirty, Baby," he blurted finally, feeling the heat in his face. "When I'm touching you, when I'm in you. I can't help it, so I bite my lip to prevent those words from coming out."
Her face smoothed out before he watched her blue crystal eyes go wide.
Then, she smiled.
He heard her giggles start, building until she flopped over onto her back, her laughter deep and loud.
"What?" he said, following her body moves, finding absolutely nothing funny about what he'd said.
"So you hurt yourself so you don't use words that you find 'nasty'?" she asked when she'd finally calmed down enough to talk.
"Well, yeah," he admitted.
"Do those words make you hot, Jack?" she inquired, eyebrows wiggling as she smiled.
"Uh-huh," he said slowly.
"Don't you think they'd make me hot, too?" she invited, tilting her face up to his.
"Uhm…" he mumbled.
"Words like, for example, pussy? Or cock? Maybe wet, hard, or swollen?" Her delicious voice speaking lower and slower. "Or is it the verbs, honey? Stroking, rubbing, moistening, sucking, creaming, cuming and the like?"
"Ah…" he moaned, moving up and onto her, the words coming out of her mouth creating an instantaneous reaction within him.
"Or do you like other words. Such as teased, licked, squeezed, thrusted, nibbled, tormented. Oh, tormented is a good one. Or, maybe even, juicy. "
"Shit, Lace," he gasped, his face in her neck, his hands reaching, groping for her naked skin. "Please, Baby."
"What, Jax?" she breathed as she gave him further access to her neck. "Please what?"
"Give me your tight, creamy pussy, Lacey," he implored as he reached for a condom. "I want…"
"You want what?" she repeated. He felt her hands on his shoulders as her long, smooth legs moved up to hook at the small of his back.
"I need…" he began to say again, but he couldn't think, open the foil wrapper and talk at the same time. God, what she was saying, along with how her body felt beneath him, was driving him fucking crazy.
"You need what?" she groaned as she dragged her wet slit over his hardness as he fumbled.
"Are you aching for me, Jack? Don't you want to ease your throbbing cock into my tight, swollen…"
"God, Lace! Christ, give me a minute," he cried, twisting and yanking at the tab on the wrapper, fucking frantic to get it open.
She snatched the small square from his hands and used her teeth again to release it. She reached between them as she rolled it on. He couldn't help his sharp gasp at the feel of her fingers on him.
"Do you need me to tell you how much I want you or can you tell from just how wet I am?" she whispered in his ear, holding him tightly pointed at her entrance as her hips circled, teasing. "Slide into me, Jack. Give it to me."
Oh, fuck.
This wasn't the dirty talk that he liked so much from the porn flicks. God, no. This was a thousand times better.
Her words flowed in between her gasps, her moans building a fire between them that he couldn't believe and didn't want to stop. She used words that were so much better than any he'd thought to himself when he'd bitten his lips; to keep himself from saying.
"Aw, God, Lace," he groaned as he sank himself into her.
"C'mon, Jack, you can do better than that," she encouraged. "Tell me how it feels to have my hot, dripping sex gripping your firm…"
"Lace, I'm gonna come if you keep talking like that," he warned, breathless.
He pressed up on an arm, irresistibly drawn to watch what their bodies were doing.
"You like watching us, don't you?" she breathed, catching his eyes as they moved back up to her face. "How we fit as you move in and out of me?"
"God, yes," he muttered, feeling that searing wonderful pressure building in his lower back.
"What if I touched myself, if I worked my clit? Do you like that too, Jack?" she asked with a slow smile. He saw her eyes become unfocused before he glanced down to see her finger working her swollen bud.
"Fuck, Lace. God, that's hot," he groaned, his skin prickling as the sharp darts of pleasure shot through him. "I'm gonna…"
"Oh, yeah. Me, too," he heard her whimper, her head thrown back.
Together, they slammed into it, milliseconds behind one another, backs arched and throats open as he pulsed, as she clenched, in their mutual rapture.
Chapter 25
"… then you'll be admitted when they're done with the tests," the cardiologist, a Dr. Lindstrom, was a doctor that liked to talk. "Any questions?"
My mind was racing. He may've liked to talk, yet he talked so much, so fast it was hard for my brain to process, much less accept, what he was saying.
"No," I heard Edie say from the chair next to mine. We were in his office and he was explaining that more tests were needed, to be completed at the hospital. If I'd heard him right, he'd said that Edie needed to be admitted as well.
"I'm sorry?" the doctor said, his body stilling, Edie's thick file spread open before him on the large ornate desk.
"No. I'm not going into the hospital," Edie said firmly, lifting her chin.
"But, Mrs. Dennison," the doctor began, though she cut him off.
"I've been listening to you for the last ten minutes. It's your turn to listen to me now," Edie announced, straightening her tiny form in the hard chair. I saw she had a white-knuckled grip on the clasp of her purse.
I wanted to calm her, to let her know she had my support. So, I did what I'd seen Jack do.
I reached, so that my hand covered hers.
She took a deep breath before she began to speak.
"I know I'm dying. You've bee
n telling me that for what? Four years? My heart is giving out. Now it looks like my body is, too. If that's the case, I'm not going to die in a hospital."
She glanced at me before I felt her fingers flex under mine.
"I know you mean well, doc. Truthfully, I'd rather die at home. When it happens, I'd rather be on the farm, okay?" She finished, but her voice was shaky and I got the impression she was holding her tears back.
"Well, I guess we could see about some homecare, getting some nurses in to help. Mrs. Dennison? You'll need an IV. Your meds will have to be adjusted again," Dr. Lindstrom explained kindly.
That was my cue according to the instructions Jack had given me this morning before we'd left for the appointment.
"Here's a list of the pills she's already taking," I said, unfolding the sheet of printed paper.
I watched as the doctor read the list.
"These will change. They'll now be delivered through your IV," he mumbled as he read. "Your nurses will report in and we'll make changes as needed but we'll keep you aware of them as we do."
He sat the paper down before he steepled his fingers underneath his chin. "I'd still like you to take the tests, though."
"What are they going to tell you?" Edie challenged, yet her voice was soft. "Will they tell you anymore than what we already know?"
I saw his eyes go back to her chart before I saw him slowly shake his head.
"Well, there you go," Edie continued on that same soft note and I was sure that the old woman was trying to comfort the much younger man with her words, her tone. This sassy yet compassionate gal was making an effort to give him, a degreed man of healing, of science, peace in spite of what she was facing.
It was that same caring, that same concern that I saw in Jack. Taking care of others before themselves. I found myself trying to swallow around the lump in my throat.
"When will the nurses start?" I asked, breaking into the soft silence that had filled the room as Grams and the doctor shared a long look.
The conversation continued with the details, the minutiae of having Edie moved to homecare.
"We've gotta talk, Lace," Edie said as I helped her up into the truck.
She'd originally argued about taking it, wanting the Corvette instead saying it was lower to the ground and would be easier to get in and out of. You can be sure I wasn't comfortable with even the thought of driving a 1960 Corvette Stingray, with all its original parts, in perfect, primo condition. It goes without saying, that the 1972 Cadillac was completely out of the question since it was just too freaking big to be believed. It'd be like driving a damn boat.
Everybody Falls Page 21
