Jesse's Girl

by Shiloh Walker

  “I love you,” she said, tears blurring her eyes. “I’m always going to love you.”

  Again, inside, in a way she couldn’t explain, she felt something. A warmth…a gentle touch. Like he was with her.

  It’s okay, gorgeous…go on. Be with him. We had our time together.

  Tears burned out of her eyes and she sighed, wiped them away. “It doesn’t feel like it was long enough.”

  Then, slowly, she brushed her fingers over his name, traced it with her fingers. Rising, she bent over and pressed her lips to the marble headstone. “But good things never last as long as we’d like, I guess.”

  Swallowing the knot in her throat, she said, “Thank you.” Memories rushed up and she touched her face, remembered the bruises, how battered and broken she’d been when Roger had come into her life.

  Jesse had left her.

  Her mother had thrown her out.

  She had felt…worthless. Unloved, and unwanted by anybody and everybody.

  Roger changed that—Roger changed everything.

  Roger had picked her up. Cared for her, made her realize she could be loved. That she was loved. He’d given her strength, had given her his love. Everything.

  And even now, he still gave.

  She could all but feel him smiling down on her.

  You were always stronger than you thought, Zo.

  No. She hadn’t been. Not until he’d shown her how to be strong.

  “Thank you…for everything, baby.”

  Then, tucking her hands inside her pockets, she turned away.

  She had a man to hunt down.

  The knock at his door was unwelcome, to say the least.

  He was busy wallowing, thanks.

  Lifting the beer to his lips, he ignored the first knock.

  When the second came, he called out, “Go away.”

  “Jesse?”

  He was hallucinating.

  Because that sounded way too much like Zoe.

  Shooting up out of the chair, he all but vaulted across the room, jerking open the door so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t pull it off the hinges.

  Zoe stood there, her big blue eyes wide, her mouth parted in surprise.

  Then her gaze lowered.

  She reached up, her fingers trembling.

  Frozen, he stood there as she brushed her finger against the charm that lay against his bare chest. “You still have it,” she murmured.

  A dull red flush crept up his cheeks. Fuck, his shirt. He’d taken it off when he’d worked the bag earlier and forgot to put it back on. Reaching up, he closed a protective hand around it. “Hey.” His mind was blank. Unable to think, barely able to do more than breathe, he just stared at her.

  Tell her to leave. Come back later, his common sense said. His mood was so toxic, so volatile, he was hazardous to his own health right now. Zoe…she needed softer, gentler handling. She didn’t need his fury, or his wrath, and that was all he had right now.

  He needed answers, but he needed to get a grip, needed to…

  “Who the fuck hurt you?” he demanded harshly.

  To her credit, she didn’t pretend not to understand.

  Nor did she look away.

  Her eyes stayed on his and she lifted a brow calmly. “How did you hear about that?”

  Sneering, he whirled around. Leaving the door open, he stormed over to the coffee table and grabbed the pictures. He showed them to her and again, just like earlier, seeing them was a vicious, painful punch to the gut. “Who did this?” he asked. “Who did that to you?”

  She reached out and took the pictures away. Sighing, she stacked them up neatly and then, without even sparing them a glance, she said, “Where did you find those?”

  “At my dad’s. Was supposed to be finding Christmas lights, for crying out loud. Knocked a box over and there they were.” That fist around his heart squeezed, wrenched. A jagged, awful pain that just got worse and worse as she stared at him.

  He had to touch her then—just had to.

  Reaching out, carefully, gently, he hooked a hand in the front of her coat, tugged her closer. He stroked a hand down the side of her cheek and murmured, “I’m sorry. I…they were in a box of stuff that had been in Roger’s office. Guess he’d had them…”

  “Yeah. He had a set, as did your dad. Safe-keeping.” She blew out a soft sigh and said, “Roger and your dad found me that night. They took me into the hospital. Roger…well, it was like he never left. My knight in shining armor.”

  A ghost of a smile drifted over her face and she said, “It’s okay, Jesse. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

  “Over it?” He reached down and took the pictures away—she didn’t seem to want to let him, but eventually, she released them and he once more found himself staring at those pictures, torn up inside over what he saw. “How in the hell do you get over this? Damn it, who in the hell did it?”

  Zoe looked away, her lashes shielding her eyes. Then she said, “My mother.”

  The pictures fell from his hand, and when she had them in her hands this time, Zoe tore them into shreds.

  He had a fire burning and before he could stop her, she threw them into the fire.

  “One demon exorcised,” she murmured. The weight of grief, shame, that had held her down for so long, it had gradually faded over the years, but now, it was like she could hear those final chains snapping.

  Turning back, she met Jesse’s stunned eyes.

  “Jesse, it was my mother.” She pushed a hand through her hair and then reached up, unbuttoned her coat. This was so not the discussion she’d come over here to have, but apparently, it was one they needed to have.

  “It happened the day after you left. I’d stayed up most the night crying—quietly,” she added, wryly. “You know how she was. Or maybe not. I don’t think either of us realized just how crazy she’d gotten. But I was up so late, crying and finally, I think I must have just cried myself into exhaustion. I woke up late. It was almost noon and I was half sick inside, just dreading what she’d say.”

  In the Childers household, even sleeping past 7 a.m. had been unacceptable.

  “But she didn’t say anything—even had some food waiting for me.” Zoe grimaced. “I thought maybe she’d understood. For once in my life, maybe she’d be a mom. But right after I ate, I felt tired again. Went to sleep. When I woke, she…well, she had all my stuff packed. All stacked on the front porch and she told me it was time I moved on. I was eighteen after all and I didn’t need to be there.”

  Zoe grimaced. “Needless to say, I didn’t take it very well. And she didn’t like my response.” Absently, she reached up and touched her face. “We started screaming at each other…Roger was there—out on the porch, but neither of us heard him knocking. He ended up calling your dad, but right before your dad showed up, that was when my mom hit me. I fell, hit my head. She came after me again.”

  “Fuck, Zoe.”

  A ghost of a smile curled her lips as she glanced at him. “I can still remember the look on her face. Sometimes, I wonder which one of us was more surprised. I think there were a lot of times over my life when she’d wanted to hit me. But she never did…not until that day, and after the first hit, she couldn’t stop.”

  “I hit the ground, but she just wasn’t done. I screamed. Your dad was there by that time and he and Roger broke the door down.”

  A grim smiled twisted her lips. “My knights in shining armor. James knocked my mother down and Roger picked me up. She tried to get away, but your dad…well, he’s handled meaner people than my mom, and even if she had gotten away, Roger wasn’t going to let anybody touch me.”

  “They took me to the emergency room, and your dad convinced me I needed to file a report—he couldn’t make me press charges, but I did file the report, let them take the pictures. And it’s a good thing.” She grimaced and gestured to the remains of the pictures in the fireplace. “While the doctors were examining me, a report came in…apparently my mother accused Roger and your da
d of assaulting me and her.”

  “So the pictures…you did it because of her,” Jesse said.

  It was the first time he’d spoken in the past few minutes, and the words were harsh, stilted. And his eyes, that dark blue, burned and glittered with anger.

  “Yes.” She met his gaze, smiled as she remembered that particular confrontation with her mother. A female officer had gone with her, giving her the silent courage she’d needed to face her mother that final time. And it had been the final time…up until Alzheimer’s had begun stealing her mother’s mind from her.

  “I don’t think anything my mother had said would have held much weight in court, but I wasn’t going to risk her trying. I told her if she said so much as one thing against Roger or James, I’d have her arrested. I’d tell everybody had she had kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known, how she’d beat me—you know how she was always so concerned with what everybody thought. She couldn’t have handled people gossiping about her being in the wrong. But if she walked away, I’d walk away. She saw the pictures and she walked. Until she started getting sick, we hadn’t spoken in years.”

  Zoe tucked her hands in her back pockets and restlessly roamed the airy, open space of Jesse’s living room. Stopping by the window, she stared outside. “When I got out of the hospital, I went to stay with your dad…didn’t really have any place else to go. He helped me get the job at the shop, let me stay with him that summer. And Roger, well, he was always there. I think he knew I hated having to count on your dad. He was so sweet, so kind. When he started asking me out a couple weeks later, at first I said no. I felt so…hell, I felt like nobody would ever want me, ever love me. My dad hadn’t wanted me. You’d left me. And a day later, my mom did what she did. But he wouldn’t give up. We’d only been dating a month when he asked me to marry him, but he made me feel needed. Made me feel loved. He did love me. Right then, I needed that. For a while, I was using him. But then, I fell in love with him.”

  “I know you love him.”

  She glanced back, saw him standing by the coffee table, his eyes shuttered, his face a mask.

  And around his neck, he wore a necklace she’d given him over sixteen years ago.

  Seeing that had been like…she couldn’t even describe it.

  Turning around, she walked over to him.

  She didn’t stop until she was close enough for the toes of her black boots to nudge his bare feet. Staring at his naked chest, she reached up and traced the gold Z. “There have only been two men in my life I ever loved,” she murmured. “Well, other than your dad—he’s kind of like a dad to me, really. Which is way weird…considering how I feel about you.”

  He was quiet, for the longest time.

  Then he reached up, cupped her chin, tipped her head back.

  Stroking his thumb over her lower lip, he murmured, “Zoe, why are you here?”

  Rising on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his. “Why don’t you take a guess, Jesse?”

  He felt like he was on some roller coaster, twisting him from heaven to hell and back again. Or maybe, from hell to heaven, then back. Now he was waiting for the return trip to hell, which would come when Zoe pulled away.

  Which would happen too soon and he needed to enjoy this as much as he could.

  Tangling a hand in her hair, he groaned against her mouth and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

  Her tongue twined with his, teasing him. The taste of her flooded his system and the feel of her body, sleek and soft and warm, had him ready to beg…beg for mercy, beg for her, beg for anything, everything.

  When she rested her hands low on his hips and tugged him closer, rocked against him, he could have whimpered.

  But then she reached between them, stroked him through his jeans and he tore away, panting for air.

  “Damn it, Zoe. What in the fuck is going on?”

  Her eyes were heated, glazed with hunger, and so fucking beautiful, even looking at her made him hurt more.

  Her mouth, swollen and red from his, curled up at the corners. “If you have to ask, then I’m doing something wrong.”

  “Shit.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, sucked in a desperate breath of air. “Help me out here, Zoe. Six months ago, I asked you to stay and you walk away. Now you’re here and…what? What is going on?”

  “Six months ago, I was still reeling from burying my husband.” She looked down at her hand and that was when he noticed.

  She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

  When she looked back at him, her eyes were damp. Still hot, but there was sadness there. “I still love Roger. He saved me, in ways I can’t even begin to explain. My life would have been…so different, and so empty without him. But he’s gone—I shared my past with him, and it was wonderful.”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep, slow breath. Then, she looked at him, held his gaze steady. “I figured something out while I was gone. I never got over you. It’s been more than sixteen years and there’s this huge part of me that’s still Jesse’s girl…nothing is ever going to change that. And I don’t want to change that. Roger’s my past and it was beautiful…because of him. But I want my future to be with you…if you want to share it with me.”

  The strength drained out of his legs, and right there, he went to his knees. Reaching up, he wrapped his hands around her waist, tugged her close. Burying his face against her belly, he muttered, “Is this real? Shit. Zoe, are you real? Are you really here?”

  “Yes…” She laughed and combed a hand through his hair. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

  Tipping his head back, he stared up at her. “And you’re staying. Right? Staying?”

  “Yes. And so are you.” Tightening a hand in his hair, she said, “If you try to walk away again, this time I’ll hunt you down…and kick your ass.”

  “Deal.”

  Tugging her down, he pressed his mouth to her lips. “Shit, Zoe. I love you. So much. I love you so much.”

  “Hmmm. I love you too.”

  Then she squirmed around and reached between them, stroking him again. “Now…can we maybe get back to this?”

  He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, leaving her wearing her bra and jeans. Rolling forward, he spilled her onto her back. “Better idea,” he muttered. The bra had a front clasp, one he dealt with in only seconds.

  Impatient to get her naked, he fought with her jeans, her boots, and when she tried to help, he caught her wrists, pushed her hands down to her sides.

  At eighteen, she’d been beautiful.

  At thirty-four…even more so. Laying between her thighs, he caught her breasts in his hands, nuzzled her. Listening to her whimper, sigh, moan as he licked, nipped and suckled on her nipples, drawing them to tight, hard peaks.

  She tasted warm and sweet and female, and he wanted to taste her every-fucking-where. With that plan in mind, he worked his way down her body, pausing to nuzzle her navel, lifting up to blow a puff of air on the wet folds between her thighs.

  Then, rolling his eyes to watch her face, he pressed his mouth to the hot, slick heat of her sex and he listened as her breath caught, listened as she groaned out his name. She fisted her hands in his hair, hooked a knee over his shoulder, rocked against him, rocking her hips…going crazy…

  He shifted and caught her clit between his teeth, tugged. At the same time, he pushed two fingers into her sheath, and she exploded.

  “So beautiful,” he muttered against her, watching as the flush spread up her neck, across her face.

  Beautiful, and his. Finally.

  His, and he wouldn’t let her go.

  As she calmed, he levered back up onto his knees, shoved his jeans down. Covering her body with his, he waited until she was looking at him. “I’ve got condoms in the bathroom…”

  She slid a hand up, curled it around and tugged him down. Kissing him gently, she said, “We don’t need it. I’m on birth control and anything else, I’m fine.”

  “Bad girl,” he mutte
red, pressing his brow to hers. “You’re supposed to tell me, ‘Go get them’.”

  She just smiled. “Make love to me, Jesse…please.”

  Shuddering, he sank closer, pressed the head of his cock against her entrance.

  Her eyes widened, then fluttered closed.

  “No. Look at me, Zoe. Please…look at me,” he whispered.

  Her lashes lifted, and their gazes locked.

  Watching each other, he sank slowly inside.

  Her breathing hitched.

  Against his chest, he could feel her heart pounding, the echo of his own.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you.”

  Madly. Desperately.

  Blindly, she reached up and he caught her hand, twined their fingers. “My girl,” he teased.

  “And you’re mine.”

  Too many years, too much hunger, he burned for her and she clenched around, her silken sheath caressing him, gripping him. Shifting his weight to the side, he reached between them, pressed against her clit, watched her face as her eyes went wide.

  “Jesse…”

  Harder. Firmer.

  A strangled groan escaped her and he grinned, hot satisfaction twisting through him, twining with the naked, raw hunger. It all shot straight to his gut and when she started to climax, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  With a harsh curse, he climaxed, emptied himself.

  It was over too quick, far too quick, leaving his head spinning, his heart racing.

  With a stupid grin on his face, he eased back and looked at her. “Hell, I think I might have showed more finesse than that on prom night,” he muttered.

  Zoe giggled. Her cheeks pink, she smiled up at him and said, “Hey, I don’t have any complaints.” Then she pursed her lips. “Then again…if I say I have complaints, are we going to have another go?”

  Dipping his head, he nipped her lower lip. “Oh, we’re going to have another go anyway. A lot of them.”

  “Hmmm. Good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Then, as he swooped her into his arms, she squeaked, surprised.

  “First go starts now.”