Survivor (First to Fight Book 2)

by Nicole Blanchard

  He doesn’t give me a chance to protest. Instead he gets to his feet, tucking the sheets even more tightly around me. His fingers brush the sensitive sides of my breasts and I curse the fact that they can perk up even though I feel like death.

  What fresh hell is this?

  If I had any energy whatsoever I would definitely put on something cuter than an old pair of boxers and T-shirt. Not that I want to give Jack any ideas, but I always had every interaction with Jack carefully planned. I had to. Now he’s here when I’m most vulnerable and I have no shields left to put up. Knowing Jack, if I give him any slack, he’ll worm his way back into all the cracks and reclaim the heart that had always been his.

  Jack returns brandishing a red Popsicle and a bottle of my favorite flavor sports drink. I immediately forget my worries about having a man in the room while I’m in bed for the first time in forever. Especially this man.

  “Thank you,” I say, accepting the drink.

  “Not too much,” he cautions, reclining on the spot next to me. “You don’t want it to upset your stomach.”

  I take a couple sips and nearly moan at how good it tastes. Green apple is the nectar of the gods. I hand him back the bottle to put on my nightstand and he exchanges it for the Popsicle. “What about the T.V.?” I ask around a bite.

  “In a sec, I just wanted to make sure you could keep that down first.”

  He’s going to kill me with kindness. That has to be his plan. “I’m fine, really. Besides, I’m probably just going to sleep once you head out. I really appreciate you bringing this by. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I’m not staying here without a little T.V. If we’re going to play hooky, then we’re going to do it right.”

  I nearly choke on a piece of flavored ice. “What?” I say to his back.

  Clearly, I’m missing a key part of our conversation.

  He returns, wheeling in the T.V. that I keep in my living room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

  “Gonna hook it up in here…”

  “I appreciate that, but I hope you don’t think you’re staying in here with me. If anything, the boys wanna see you.”

  “I’ll be here when they wake up. Probably better to let them sleep while they can, anyway. So much better than the paperwork waiting for me back at the gym.”

  “You don’t mean to say that you’re staying,” I reiterate. “Here.”

  He plops on the bed next to me, surrounding me in his familiar woodsy scent. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  I clear my throat. “Um, why?”

  “That goose egg on your head for one thing. That and you could barely get yourself back to bed. You’ll be no good to the boys laid up.”

  Warmth that has nothing to do with my illness washes over me. “Why are you really doing this, Jack?” The moment the words slip past my lips, I want to take them back.

  He pauses, considering his words. “You know why,” he says, running a hand over his dark hair. It’s grown since the last time I saw him. His bangs hang lazily across his forehead and my fingers twitch by my side. When we were teenagers, I wouldn’t have hesitated to run them through his hair or tug him close to me. Ben and Olivia used to give us shit all day long for our PDA.

  It all seems too familiar. I clear my throat and shake the memories out of my head. “I really don’t,” I say breathlessly, and I wish I could say it’s from the illness. “I don’t know why you’re doing any of this.” I gesture around the room.

  “I brought you back here for the boys because they deserve you, and because your mother asked me to,” he says, his voice calm and level, his eyes on mine. I hold his gaze, even though every fiber inside of me wants to tuck under the blankets and hide.

  “But why are you being nice to me now? You and I both know we can rarely be in the same room together without butting heads. I’m shocked we aren’t arguing right now.”

  “I wouldn’t piss you off when you’re sick. Besides, the boys need us on the same team right now, and I figure we’re both adult enough to be friends.”

  A sharp pain spears through my chest. “Oh, um, right. Of course.”

  He cocks his head. “Don’t you think that’s the right thing to do?”

  There were so many times when I thought I was doing the right thing. For so long, I carried the hope that a miracle might bring the two of us back together. How stupid and surprisingly naïve of me.

  He’s right, of course. The boys deserve a stable environment. He deserves a break, at least from me, and, more than anything, to be happy. I had caused him enough undue grief over the years. It’s only fair that I set him free, as the old adage goes.

  “No, you’re right.” I swallow thickly. “We should put it behind us. Start over with a fresh slate.”

  Jack smiles easily, the corners of his lips tipping up to reveal the killer dimple I love so much. “Good,” he says. “That’s real good.”

  “Right, good.” I try to return the smile, but I’m afraid it’s more of a weird facial tic than anything resembling an expression of grace and poise.

  Low voices from across the hall catch my attention. “I better go check on them to make sure they’re okay.”

  “No, you stay right here. I’ll go look in on them.” Then he does something that completely devastates my resolve to agree to his fresh slate proposal. He leans forward, puts a hand under my jaw, and brushes a kiss as soft as butterfly wings across the crest of my cheek. My hands come up to clasp at his biceps because if I didn’t, I’d simply melt into a puddle at his feet. He pauses there for what seems like an eternity and there is magic in it. Magic that transports me back to a thousand other kisses like this. Magic that undoes every door I’ve closed in my heart, blocking the feelings I had for him once upon a time.

  We stay like that for a few beats past the line of propriety. I feel his fingers twitch on my jaw, like he wants to move, but can’t seem to make himself do it. In spite of everything, I find myself arching my neck to him automatically.

  His swift inhalation breaks the moment and I catch myself. Shit.

  “I think I’m going to take a shower,” I say, flinging the covers from me and hopping from the bed.

  I cross the hall and close the door to the bathroom to put myself back to rights. After I start the water for a shower, I splash some on my face and pull back my mop of thick brown curls. I let the water run over a cloth and wring it out to place over my heated neck.

  I’d gotten through the first at-home encounter relatively unscathed. Maybe putting our past behind us was what I had to do to finally get him to move on. Apparently, pushing him away with sharp words and distance wasn’t enough, especially now with us taking care of the boys and living in the same town again. Maybe he needed the closure to put this—us—behind him.

  A knock comes at the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

  “I’m fine,” I shout back, pleased my voice doesn’t betray the emotions in my churning stomach. I pull the washcloth from my neck and wipe away the evidence of my anguish. If I can convince everyone else what we had in the past is over—finally over—then maybe, I’ll start to believe it myself. If I can do that, maybe I can forget what happened all those years ago.

  To start, I wipe away the reality that he still smells the same, the sizzle that a mere ghosting of his lips can still evoke against my skin, and the startling moment of intuition that he was disappointed when I didn’t fight back.

  Present

  I SLEEP ON the couch, but I don’t do much real sleeping at all. Once the house settles and the boys go back to sleep after a long day of recuperating, I strain for sounds from Sofie’s bedroom. Each rustle from her sheets and every sleepy grumble tightens muscles I’d long since forgotten. Muscles that seem to remember her, no matter how much I try distract myself with thoughts of work.

  By the time the first dregs of pre-dawn light filter through the living room curtains, I’ve given up trying to sleep. I get to my feet and pull o
n my jeans, ignoring the aching muscles caused by the cramped makeshift bed.

  “Timizit?” Rafe asks from the doorway, ruffling his spiky hair.

  “Time for breakfast, kid. Go get your brother, but keep it quiet. We don’t want to wake your sister up if she’s still feeling bad.”

  Rafe ambles away, and I slip into my shirt and try to rub feeling back into my face. Normally, my wake-up routine includes about a gallon of coffee and a couple of shots right to the face from whoever I’m training at the time, but just the coffee will have to do for now. I’m sure when Sof gets up she may be inclined to lend a hand on the punching aspect, depending on her level of moodiness.

  I catch myself smiling in the kitchen window as I stare outside with a mug of coffee in my hand. It’s a bad move to settle in like this. A bad move for all of us. I wipe the smile off my face, chug the rest of the coffee, and remind myself about the conversation we had yesterday. I’m here for the boys’ sake and that’s it.

  “What’s for breakfast?” Donnie says, launching himself into a chair at the table. Rafe follows close behind, stifling a yawn.

  Brushing thoughts of Sofie laying warm and soft a couple feet away from my mind, I turn my attention to the boys. “You guys up for some eggs and toast?”

  “How about donuts?” Rafe suggests, grinning, his smile so like his sister’s I catch myself smiling back.

  “How about no?” I counter.

  They grumble, but offer no other resistance as I serve them up some orange juice and make a plate of eggs, only partially burnt, and lightly buttered toast.

  I grab another cup of coffee and join them at the table. “Seem to be feeling better,” I comment after I down half the cup.

  “Yeah,” Rafe says around a bite of toast. “A little bit.”

  “Think you’ll be up for school tomorrow?”

  That earns me a groan from both of them. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Donnie eyes me with interest. “Are you and Sofie back together?”

  Coffee nearly shoots out of my nose and I choke back a cough with another swallow. “No, she—I… we’re not together, Don. I’m just helping her because you guys got sick. That’s all.”

  “Who would want to be with her anyway?” Rafe mutters into his forkful of eggs.

  “Hey,” I say sharply. “I don’t want you talking about her like that. She’s your sister.”

  “She left you, too,” he says, his face hard.

  “People do a lot of things, but most of them deserve second chances.”

  “Is that why you’re helping her?” Donnie asks.

  I pause before answering, then I say, “Yeah, Don, that’s why. Sometimes people hurt you, and sometimes it really sucks, but they deserve a second chance. Especially your sister because she’s your family. I know losing your mom was hard, I lost my dad, too. You guys remember. She’s the only person you have left. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

  “We’ve got you, don’t we?” Rafe asks.

  Smiling, I scrub his hair affectionately. “Of course you do.”

  The sound of the door closing has me crossing the kitchen to put my empty cup in the sink. “I’m gonna go check on her. You two finish your breakfast and get your rooms cleaned up today since you’re feeling better.”

  Their grumbles follow my retreating back, but my mind is already on the sounds coming from the other side of the bathroom door. “Morning, sunshine,” I say with a rap of my knuckles.

  “Go away,” she shouts from the other side of the door. At least that much hasn’t changed. Sofie’s not what I’d call an early riser. I hear a toilet flush and then the sound of water.

  Impatient to see if her color’s come back, I knock again. She flings the door open and glowers. “There has to be something illegal about you staying here against my will. I think I have Logan’s number in my phone. You better get going before I find the strength to call him.”

  I laugh, relief spreading through my chest. If she has enough energy to throw attitude, she’s definitely gotta be feeling better “Logan is on administrative leave again, so you’re out of luck there,” I say, following close behind as she limps to her room.

  She plops on the bed and wraps herself in the nest of comforters. “Wait, what? I thought you were about to call him the other day when I showed up?”

  “You mean broke in?” She rolls her eyes and I grin. “I lied. Figured the threat of jail would probably convince you to stay just to spite me.”

  “You are such an ass,” she snaps as she sucks water from a straw.

  Even with her hair thrown up in a messy bun and wearing PJ’s consisting of an old T-shirt and shorts, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Especially, when the fight comes into her eyes. There are a few beats of silence before I remember to respond. “And you’re stubborn. Speaking of, I don’t want you to leave this bed until you’ve had something to eat, so don’t get it in your mind to go running around trying to do everything. I’ve got the boys handled for today. You just rest.”

  She glares at me. “There are other cops in Nassau.”

  “Sure, sure,” I say, forcing her to recline back into the covers while I head to the kitchen to fix her a plate. When I return, she’s engrossed in the latest episode of the sitcom I convinced her to watch. I hold up her plate. “Here you g—”

  Snatching it from me with a waved hand, she hisses, “Shut up, this is the good part.”

  Yes, it is. I refrain from voicing the sentiment as I join her on the bed. This feels so familiar, so normal, I almost never want to leave. Who thought being friends was a good idea?

  I fumble for a topic of conversation to distract me from that line of thought. “When do you start work at your new job?”

  “Next week,” she says through a yawn, half eaten plate of food forgotten on the bed. She fidgets, nearly sending it crashing to the floor. I chuckle, moving it off to the side and position her around me. The full sized bed is barely enough room for the two of us, and I’m not quite ready to pop the bubble of contentment I’m feeling, so I scoot close enough so she can rest her head on my shoulder.

  I don’t know what’s worse. Having her this close after all these years, or not being able to do anything about it.

  “You excited about it?” I ask, my voice low as her lids start to droop. She mumbles something, nodding against my chest until her eyes flutter closed. “That’s my girl,” I whisper, running a hand over her hair.

  We doze on and off, and I can’t remember a time when I slept as peacefully as I do with her in my arms. When I wake a couple hours later, the static from the T.V. in the background and the scent of her shampoo surrounding me, my first reaction is to kiss her awake.

  The thought of tasting her again after all these years jerks me the rest of the way awake, and I shift her out of my arms and sit up, rubbing a hand across my face. I get to my feet and glance back, finding her awake. Covering my own confusion with a grin, I say, “I’m gonna grab you another cup of water and check on the boys. Why don’t you grab a shower?”

  She frowns. “Are you trying to hint that I stink?”

  I hold my hands up and start backing away. “I would never say such a thing.” When she scoffs and jumps to her feet, I shout at her back, “I promise I won’t dig around in your underwear drawer!”

  With her safely tucked in the bathroom and out of my reach, I check on the boys and clean up the mess in the kitchen. As I put away the dishes and wipe down the tables and countertops, I force myself away from thoughts of Sofie naked and wet just a few feet away. The boys are amusing themselves with a movie in the living room, for fuck’s sake.

  The bathroom door opens with a click and I straighten, my gut tightening. Steam billows out and her head peeks through the crack in the door. Water drips down her tanned skin and splatters on the floor at her bare feet.

  “Jack,” she says with her brows raised. Shit, had I missed something?

  I toss the dirty washcloth I was using to wipe down
the sticky counters and the sink. Turning, I say to a spot about two feet above her head, “Yeah?”

  “I said could you grab me some clothes. I forgot to get some.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Fuck my life. The last thing I want to be doing is touching her bras and panties and thinking of her wearing them.

  “Thanks. They’re just in the office in my suitcase. I haven’t got around to unpacking yet.”

  “Right,” I mutter and book it as far away from her as I can get.

  It’s only been a couple of days, and already the house is starting to feel like hers, smell like hers. I groan, instantly regretting my decision to help her fix up the place. Her suitcase is splayed open on the desk and I rifle through it, randomly grabbing the first things my fingers come in contact with.

  The door to the bathroom is still propped open so I slip through, setting the clothes on the sink. Her body is a striking silhouette on the other side of the shower curtain, but even with the barrier between us, I can see she’s grown into her generous curves.

  “Will these work?” I ask when I manage to get my voice back.

  She glances out the curtain offering me a tantalizing view of her shoulder. Her laugh breaks me from my fantasies about exactly what I would do to her there. “You forgot a shirt, genius,” she says.

  I groan. “Fine. Your plate is ready when you get out. Do you need anything else?”

  “No, thanks. You really didn’t have to do all this,” she says from the other side of the curtain.

  “I know. Consider this a favor owed if it makes you feel any better.” With any luck, I can get the repairs on this place knocked out, the gym squared away, and then get the hell out of dodge, where the most tempting thing will be which MRE to eat for dinner.

  “Not that I asked you to help, but fine,” she says. “I can owe you one.”

  “We’re on a fast track to becoming besties. I can feel it,” I tell her to dispel the growing tension.

  She chuckles and I have to turn away from the sight of her breasts outlined in the light coming through the window. I can barely hear her response over the blood rushing from my brain straight to my dick. “Well, you’ve held my hair while I puked and played with my underwear. I’d say you’re closer than Livvie and me at this point.”