I bend my head down, getting my lips close to her ear. “Are you okay?” I feel the slight nod from her head then she peels it away from my chest and her ocean-blue eyes suck me in, dragging me under.
Slowly, my hand travels up her back and tangles in the long strands of her blonde hair. I sweep her hair to the side, exposing her neck, and then lean down, placing a kiss where I’ve longed to tasted her skin. My lips connect with the soft skin just underneath her ear and I hold them there, relishing in the moment and the smell of comfort. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat while her stiffened body relaxes slightly at my touch. Moving my lips down, I kiss just slightly below the first spot and can feel the accelerated rate of her pulse beating from her neck. She feels this, too, I know she does.
When her eyes look at me, they’re filled with desire and she wants me to kiss her. She needs me to love her and I will. I will love her for the rest of my life.
“Jake?” Her voice is faint, barely above a whisper, as she shakily pulls herself from my hold. “I… I don’t thi—”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel better.” I’m instantly pissed at myself. I’ve made her uncomfortable. It’s too much too fast. Before she leaves, I will tell her how I feel. I will tell her I want her to leave Memphis behind and come be with me. Right now, though, is not the time for that. Right now is the time for her to grieve; for all of us to grieve. “I hate seeing so much pain in your eyes.”
“It’s fine. I just… I’m just so tired and my head is pounding.” She wraps her arms around her waist as if she’s protecting herself from something then sits down on the bed, tucking her legs underneath the covers.
“I’ll go get some Advil and water then you can lie down for a while and rest before we have to go to the funeral home.” I quickly exit my room, mentally punching myself in the face for moving so quickly with her. She’s confused and upset, her best friend is dead and I’m acting like a starved teenager trying to put the moves on her. God, I’m a fucking idiot.
Plodding down the hallway, I snag the bottle of medicine from the cupboard in the bathroom, open the door and peek in on Mia—who’s still knocked out—and grab her baby monitor off her dresser. As I pass through the kitchen, I fill a glass with water and go back down to the basement were Delilah is lying on my pillow. She quickly swallows the pills and guzzles down the water. I move to the door, leaving her alone to sleep when her voice stops me in my tracks.
“Jake? Will… will you stay with me?” She is looking down at her hands, embarrassed of her question. When she finally looks me in the eye, she smiles because she knows what my answer will be.
Without thinking or speaking a single word, I move to the bed and pull back the covers. Delilah settles in under the blankets and rolls to her side. We’re lying face to face, chest to chest.
My hand moves to her cheek and my lips long to press against hers again, something I haven’t felt since Vegas—something that’s been missing for so long from my life—however, this is not the time for me to act on my feelings. I lean forward, kissing her forehead then pull her against my body. She tucks herself in, and as I lie in the stillness of my room, a raging ocean of emotions is slamming my insides.
From the moment I laid eyes on Delilah an hour ago, so many feelings have been taking over my stone-cold heart, shattering any ability to just be her friend. The void has finally been filled, something I’ve believed would never happen to me in my lifetime. The cracks are starting to mend in this horrible situation that has brought us back to each other.
Delilah
My body is relaxed and completely comfortable as I lie on the soft mattress of Jake’s bed. I am still wrapped tightly in his arms, my face is lying on his chest, our legs intertwined, and a since of calm surrounds me.
I can feel things are different this time. It’s like my heart knows this trip to Sulfur Heights is going to be my last as it makes me finally feel what’s been building inside of me since the moment I laid eyes on Jake Evans. Today, his actions have proven to my heart that I am completely and utterly in love with him.
I’ve fought myself from day one to ignore the twinges of feeling that would remind me he is the most unbelievable person I know. I have never allowed myself to be aware of any of this. I haven’t wanted to have to make the decision to be with Jake or Emerson. I’ve never wanted myself to accept the love I have for him because I’ve never wanted to choose between my family and my best friend. Now, all the strategically placed rationale my brain has worked so hard to create have been blown to smithereens because my heart gives in to Jake—enraptured by him.
After Presley’s funeral, however, the feelings will need to dissolve and fade into nothing because I have to live the next phase of my life. I have obligations to fulfill. Delilah St. James will be the wife of Emerson Knox. She will be a charity fundraising extraordinaire, and a rich socialite in Memphis’s high society world. Anything I have now with Jake will be done, and so will my feelings. I will shut them off and tuck each one away, never allowing them to surface again.
Can I do that? Shut off my feelings for him as quickly as I’ve allowed myself to succumb to them? Only the good Lord knows if I can, but everything I’ve been taught and raised to believe tells me I have to. No questions. No exceptions.
I’ve been awake for a while, listening to the deep, quiet breaths rise and fall from Jake’s chest. He’s is the only person I know who can fall asleep in less than two minutes and be in such a deep sleep that not even a tornado going through his room would wake him. After the first time we slept together, I thought it could be a whiskey-induced coma, but now he’s completely sober and still sleeps like the dead.
The clock turns to three in the afternoon as I try to shimmy myself from Jake’s hold, inch by inch, hoping not to disturb him. He’s looked so tired when we laid down and needs as much sleep as he can get.
I quietly move to the closet, pulling a shirt from the hanger and then grabbing a pair of jeans and undergarments from my suitcase. I then tiptoe out his room and up the stairs.
Darcie is sitting on the couch, zombie faced and tired. She mirrors my exact look; sad and disbelieved. When I walk over to her and sit down next to her, a lone tear rolls down her cheek, causing my eyes to fill with water as well. We say nothing as we wrap our arms around each other and sob.
The loss of Presley has brought us together today, but the troubles of Presley’s past have brought Darcie and me together as friends—lifelong friends. We’ve become fast friends since Presley’s overdose last year and now we’re left without the one element that has brought us together. Presley is the reason we decided to stop the snide, catty bickering and pool our love for her together to get help.
Since Presley came home from rehab, the three of us had become inseparable. We’d talked almost daily, Presley and I stood up in Darcie’s wedding, and they’d became the friends I’d longed to have my entire life. Friends who would be honest with you no matter how it may hurt your feelings, and friends who would support you through anything—regardless of what had happened, they’d always be in your corner.
After several minutes, we break apart and wipe our faces. I quickly make my way down to the bathroom and shut myself in. As I stand under the warm water of the shower, I think back to the first time I met Presley.
She was hovered under the slide while Marcie Krantz tormented her. She had been all of six-years-old, and I’d known she needed someone to protect her; someone to be her advocate because she couldn’t do it herself.
Her long brown hair was falling from its bun on top of her head and the white rainbow t-shirt was soaked from tears. I turned to Marcie and announced to everyone that she was in need of diapers because she peed the bed and sucked her thumb in her sleep. It was the meanest I’d ever been to anyone, but after I had witnessed what Presley had to live through day in and day out from that girl, my actions toward her had been warranted.
Shaking my thoughts, I quickly finish washing the soap from m
y body and rinse the shampoo from my hair. Before I turn off the water, I evaluate the situation I’m in. Soon we will be going to the funeral home to make Presley’s final resting place decisions. I have to be strong. I cannot rely on Darcie who’s normally the tough one. She’s fallen to pieces and it’s my turn to put on that brave face and take care of business. Reggie would do a fine job, but Presley has been my best friend for almost as long as I can remember and no one knew her better than me. I have to do this for her. For all the things she’s done for me, I owe her this. I owe it to her to make sure she is laid to rest with honor, and I have to do everything in my power to make this perfect.
As soon as I’m dressed, I can hear little Mia talking in her room, happy as can be. It’s tormenting on my heart. This little baby has no idea what’s happened to her mama. She has no idea how to feel pain, and inwardly, I am thankful. Even though her mother has loved her very much, this little baby will never have to suffer the loss of not having her mother; she’s too young to know any different.
I open the door to the bathroom and follow the sound of voices coming from Mia’s room where I find Jake is holding his niece on his lap while they are flipping through a car magazine. It’s clearly not appropriate reading material for a one year old. Women in bikinis are lying across the hoods of cars, sporting seductive faces, but it’s the conversation that makes me smile.
Mia is completely enthralled in Jake’s storytelling, not even noticing me standing at the threshold of her room. “Now, Axl, this is a 1967 Shelby Mustang. A classic muscle car and one of my personal favorites. But it’s no ‘57 Bel Air Delray.” Mia hits the magazine and Jake turns the page while waiting with anticipation for his explanation. “Awww… this is a Hemi Cuda. It used to be one of my favorite cars until that d-bag Grady McGuire… well, Axl, that’s not for your ears. Let’s just turn the page.”
Before he can get the page turned, little Mia notices me standing in the doorway. She squirms her way out of his hold and comes running into my arms. I haven’t seen her since her birthday and she’s grown so much since then.
I pick up her little body and hold her close to me. “Hey, my pretty princess,” I coo to her ear then sprinkle kisses to her cheeks and neck. Mia giggles as she always does when I pepper her with kisses; it’s so precious and innocent. She looks adorable with her brown, curly hair, rosy cheeks, and little heart-shaped lips.
Mia is babbling away, telling me stories in her own little language when I get a glimpse into her eyes—Presley’s eyes. She looks so much like her daddy, but when I look straight into her eyes, it’s almost like Presley is looking back at me. The sight takes me back a little bit, remembering why I’m really here. Streams of tears fall down my cheeks, making the brave conversation I’ve had with myself moments ago in the shower disintegrate away.
The overwhelming grief fills back into my chest; a deep seeded ache that feels like it will never leave.
Jake comes to my side, taking Mia from my arms and then tucking me under his. Behind the wood of Drake’s door, I can hear the faint sounds of morning. His sadness leaks underneath the door, making the hardest of men weaken with pain.
Mia hears her daddy crying on the other side of the door and she begins to whimper with him. She knows the sound is coming from Drake and wants nothing more than to be with her daddy. It seems impossible to make my feet function as Jake guides my broken and weary body into the living room.
“He’s been doing that for hours. Reggie and I lay in bed just listening to him cry…” Darcie’s voice breaks up my own tears as her voice loses its sound. “…and it sucks knowing there is nothing we can do for him. The pain will be his and we can’t take it away. Reggie is putting on a brave front, but he’s as lost as we all are and worried about Drake’s frame of mind.” And with that, she moves back to her room, leaving Jake, Mia and myself to listen the sounds of a wounded soul.
Chapter 22
Jake
When we return from the funeral home, Darcie and Delilah head to a department store to find a new dress for Presley and then over to the market to pick up groceries. I haven’t heard from Jeremy in hours, and when we left for the funeral home, he was not back from whatever the hell he’s been doing. After we pull in the driveway, I notice the Challenger parked in the garage and the sound of Jeremy banging away inside.
Reggie leaves me with my twin heading for the house as I make my way over to Jeremy, ready to kick his ass. He’s been absent for the last day, and in the middle of a crisis. His behavior the night of Presley’s death was out of character for him, so much so, it leveled my own anger, which is an impossible task to do.
I open the side door of the garage and hear Stone Sour blasting from the speakers. He is on his hands and knees, bent into the tool chest that covers our hidden safe, banging on the false door concealing our secret. I turn down the stereo, lowering the volume. This instantly gets his attention, causing him to make his way to his feet. His appearance is no different from the last time I’ve seen him—wild, feral eyes and seething in anger. Jeremy’s clothes are covered in dirt, caked with mud, and that’s when the sinking feeling submerges in my gut. What the fuck did he do?
Jeremy stomps to the stereo and cranks the volume back up. Stone Sour is bursting my eardrums as Jeremy snatches my arm, pulling me over to the corner of the garage next to discarded car parts and grease rags.
“What the fu—” His hand flies over my mouth then he smashes me into the wall of the garage. I push back, ready to slug my brother in his face when his bloodshot eyes connect with mine. He’s gone mad. The fucker has jumped off the deep end and he’s fucking lost it. I stop struggling, knowing it won’t get me closer to the truth.
After several moments, he lowers his hand from my mouth and pushes his finger in front of his lips, motioning for me to be quiet. I’m now really worried. Where the hell has he been since last night and why is he covered in dry mud? I open my eyes as big as I can, pleading with him to tell me what’s going on, but he continues to look at me with his wild, deranged eyes.
Getting closer than normal brothers do to have a conversations, Jeremy begins to speak. “Don’t. Talk. Just listen to me then walk away. Do you got it, brother?” Unsure of what else to do, I nod in agreement, scared as hell of the words that are going to fall out of his mouth. “Shit is going to get really bad, really fast. I almost guarantee it will.” I strain to hear his words over the booming guitar riffs coming from the stereo. “The money…” he points to the tool chest, “…it’s all we have left.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Jeremy, you’re making no sense.” Baffled and dumbfounded, I cannot even process what he’s trying to say.
“They’re going to come for it. In a few days, in a week, maybe in a month… I’m not sure. I don’t know, but they’re going to come for it and I have to get it out of here.” He leads me over to the toolbox and hands me the piece of metal that hides the safe. I snag his arm, preventing him from kneeling down to the floor, but he jerks it out of my grip.
“What are you talking about? Who’s going to come?” I’m really worried and looking him over again, I can see his knuckles are torn up, there’s a cut over his left eye and bruises have started to form on the side of his face.
“Once they find Carter, they’ll come and take all of this away.”
My breath has left my body and I now know what he’s talking about. He’s done what he thought he needed to do. He’s done what Reggie thought he needed to do when Darcie’s life was in danger. However, this time, it wasn’t a matter of a person’s survival; the person who’s been harmed is already dead. This has been plotting and purposeful. This is first degree murder anyway you look at it.
“What did you do?” I whisper back to him.
Jeremy stands once again, fueled with an anger and intensity I’ve never seen before. Without raising his voice, Jeremy snaps back to me. “I’ve only done what I had to do to protect our family. To give us a fucking future out of this damn town.” He
squats back to the tool chest and clicks open the safe. The duffle bag on the floor starts filling with bundles upon bundles of money. More money than I’ve ever seen in one sitting, and way more money than could have been made from measly hustling gigs.
Kneeling down next to him, I grab his arm, squeezing tightly to show him how serious I am right now. “Where did all this money come from?” He ignores my question, finishing putting the money in the black bag. “Jer—”
“As soon as they find Carter, you’ll know exactly where this money came from. No more questions please.” He zips up the bag, tosses it into the Challenger and falls into the driver’s seat. As he’s waiting for the garage door to open, I move to the passenger side, jerking on the handle. I refuse to let him leave without me, but it’s locked.
“Open the fucking door, Jeremy!” I don’t bother with my volume when I scream at the glass. He nearly runs me over as he backs down the driveway, though, pulling onto the street and vanishing from sight.
***
It’s been two days since my weird encounter with my brother and we have yet to see him. Jeremy doesn’t bother answering our text messages or phone calls. While the rain has continued to fall for the last three days, we all ready ourselves to say goodbye to Presley. I’ve been a walking zombie since the day she died; we all have. The girls can barely make it an hour without shedding a tear and random wails will flood the hallway as Drake wakes and realizes how fucked his life’s gotten in the last few days.
Reggie has called Drake’s work, letting them know he won’t be in for a while. He was able to get a two week bereavement leave, and after that, he will be fired then replaced if he doesn’t show up for work.
It’s pushing eleven in the morning when the Challenger pulls into the driveway. Jeremy comes plodding up the back steps, looking like hell. Clearly he hasn’t slept in days as the dark circles pool under his eyes. He says nothing as he heads to the bathroom before the whine of the pipes alerts us he’s in the shower.
Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) Page 22
