So True

by Serena Bell

  They were the words she’d always wanted to hear. In a voice that made it clear that he was speaking the truth from his soul. And she couldn’t help it, she took a step toward him. His eyes were searching her face, looking for something he needed from her. And all she wanted was to give it to him. Whatever it was, however much it cost her. He took two big steps, closing the gap between them. His hand came up, sliding into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and then his mouth was on hers, greedy, forceful, perfect.

  Her mouth opened to him, right away. Giving him whatever it was. Whatever he was asking for. And he took it, his tongue dipping, tentatively for only a second, then desperately. Silky against hers. He kissed her deep, so they both heard the slick of mouth on mouth, and then he pulled back to nip and lick, which made her knees go weak. He caught her as they buckled and steered her to the solid wall. He pressed her against it so the hard steel of his erection pinned her right where it felt best. And then, still kissing her, he ever-so-gently began working himself against her in a way that was one hundred percent guaranteed to make both of them come—they both knew it from long-ago but well-remembered experience. She remembered, with a thick surge of almost-there lust, how the kiss would drown out both their cries of release.

  And she would have let him. She absolutely one hundred percent would have let him, except right then the store phone rang, and they jumped a mile apart. Like when she looked up at him, his back was to one of the new shelves, as far to the other side of the room as it was possible to get.

  She laughed.

  Half in manic joy, because oh, my God, that kiss had felt good. And the other half because, What the hell did she think she was doing?

  The phone quit ringing, intercepted silently by voicemail.

  “Not the best way to drum up potential new business,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Jax?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I mean, we can’t, right? We can’t really—there aren’t second chances. Not when it ends like that, with—not even a whimper. Just, nothing. And I understand. I really do. Why you had to leave. But—I’d be crazy, wouldn’t I? And you’re leaving. And I’m leaving.”

  He closed his eyes. Opened them again.

  “Yes,” he said. “All those things are true.”

  For a long, giddy, brilliant second, she thought he was going to say it.

  But—

  Instead, he turned away, straightened an unruly game on the shelf behind him, and let her have the last word.

  She just wasn’t sure she wanted it.

  31

  Just FYI, I’m heading into Portland today.

  Chiara’s text woke him out of a fitful sleep Tuesday morning. He’d had to give Evan his bed back—obviously—and he was sleeping on the crappy couch. Which would have been bad enough if his head hadn’t been full of that kiss. But given the shitty sleeping surface and a porn-movie-worthy collection of mental images—

  He really hadn’t slept at all. And he had jerked off twice.

  He hadn’t felt like this since high school, and he was guessing that was at least in part because no one got him going like Chiara did. He wasn’t sure of all the elements in the recipe—one part, sure, was her slim body and supple curves, and one part, sure, was that he had never met a woman who could kiss like that, and one part, yeah, absolutely, was whatever it was about their chemistry that lit him on fire and made her wild and alive in his arms.

  And then there was the part that felt like coming home. For ten years he hadn’t had it and then suddenly it had slid into place and clicked like a key in lock, and you couldn’t forget that feeling. That yes. That all is right in the world.

  He wanted more. It was that simple and that complicated.

  Why Portland?

  He didn’t mean to be an asshole about it, but what he was really saying was, I was hoping to spend at least some of the day with you. Not all of it, of course; he would help Evan with shopping and cooking and whatever else had to be done, play games with him and help keep him from going stir crazy—but he wasn’t going to lie. He’d been hoping he’d get to see more of Chiara.

  He had no idea how that fit in with the fact that he needed to leave and get the hell back to his real life.

  “Hey.”

  Evan was on his feet, showered and dressed.

  “Wow. You look—great,” Jax said.

  “Thanks. I feel better than I have in months. Asher’s coming over and we’re going to play Magic.”

  “You allowed to do that?”

  “I’m allowed to do whatever I feel up for, as long as I don’t overdo it. The last thing I want is to go back to the hospital.”

  “Okay. That seems—reasonable.” He took another look at his brother. “You’re sure?”

  His phone buzzed just then, and he couldn’t keep himself from checking it out. I want to scope out other stores. I want to know how the successful ones are bringing customers in.

  “Um, you mind if I—” He looked up from his phone. “Chiara’s going to Portland to do some market research and I thought I’d see if she needed me to go with.”

  “Market research, huh?” Evan asked, smirking. He waved the back of his hand in his brother’s direction. “Go, dude. Research the, ah, market.”

  “You’re not too sick and weak for me to kick the crap out of you, you know,” Jax said.

  Evan rolled his eyes. “As if you’d ever do that.”

  Jax rolled his eyes right back and texted, I’ll go with you.

  There was a long silence. Then, I think that might be a bad idea.

  He wasn’t buying it. Two heads are better than one. I might see something you don’t see.

  What about Evan?

  He’s got a friend coming over to play Magic, whatever that is.

  Magic the Gathering, she texted back. It’s a card game. And then, after another long pause. Okay, but what happened yesterday? Can’t happen again.

  She was probably right.

  Probably.

  You’re the boss. I’ll pick you up in twenty.

  Who says you’re driving?

  You want to drive?

  No. But I want you to ask, Alpha Man.

  She wasn’t flirting, was she? His body definitely thought she was.

  Okay. Which of us is driving?

  Long silence.

  Then, You drive.

  That’s how I like it, he tapped. Then deleted it. Then tapped it out again and—what the fuck, you only live once—sent it.

  He showered in record time, pulled on one of his favorite t-shirts—“I’m a general contractor, not a magician, but I can see why you might be confused”—and dashed for the truck.

  She was standing in front of her beach-cottage-style house when he pulled up. She climbed into the truck, then frowned at him theatrically. “No sexting, either,” she said sternly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “‘That’s how I like it?’” she mimicked.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I prefer to drive. Being a passenger makes me antsy.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  She looked amazing. Her hair was in a high ponytail—fucking adorable—and she was wearing a pair of cropped skinny jeans and a white tank top with a green hoodie thrown over it. Both jeans and tank hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth water and any remaining resolve drift away. He wanted to grab the ponytail and drag her into another kiss.

  He was going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands off her on the way to Portland and back. Not to mention during a day spent wandering through game stores while she was all buoyant and excited and cute and he had nothing to do except admire the curve of her ass in those jeans.

  But he’d done this to himself, and he’d behave himself as long as that was what she wanted.

  And not a minute longer.

  32

  “Wow,” Jax said, over a very late lunch—or maybe it was an early dinner?—in a Vietname
se cafe downtown. “That was a serious crash-course for me.”

  They’d been all over Portland, to four different shops in four different neighborhoods. Chiara had to admit, it had been a blast. Chatting in the truck, catching up on life. Stopping for Voodoo donuts. Accepting people’s assumptions that they were a couple.

  It was an easy assumption to make, because Jax was all flirtation and hands today. And she didn’t want him to stop. Once, when he’d put an arm around her after a clerk had assumed they were together, she’d leaned into his body. And loved the wall of muscle supporting her.

  It scared her, how simple it would be to slip back into her feelings for him.

  “I got an education, too,” she said. “I think Evan pictured his store looking like that third one we were in. The one that hosts all those D&D and Magic and Euro board game nights. I think that’s what he wants it to be.”

  “With all the dark wood paneling and the big heavy tables, and the bar snacks and beer on tap?”

  “Yeah, but I think what you and I are headed toward with Meeples—which is much more like that first one we saw—is the right recipe for the family and tourist traffic.”

  “You’re talking about the place with the kids’ toys and all the family and party games.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “And I don’t think he disagrees. I’ve been sending him photos of everything as we go along, and I think he can see the disconnect between his fantasy and the reality. And he’s not stubborn about it. He gets it. It doesn’t mean he can’t do the events he wants to do. It just means that he has to focus on the family-oriented stuff. Even comic-book-wise. There are great comics for kids and ones aimed at feminine audiences now, and he has to put them front and center. But then if someone comes in who’s looking for the harder-core stuff, he can have that available, too. And he can hint at both in the window, but he has to do it in a way that doesn’t turn anyone off.”

  “Just that?” Jax asked, laughing. “Okay, sounds easy enough.”

  “I’m not saying it’s easy,” Chiara said. “Just that it’s possible.” She sprinkled her pork meatball with cilantro and basil, drizzled soy mayo on it, and took a bite. “Holy shit, that’s good.”

  “Mine too,” he said, hoisting another mouthful of noodle salad.

  “The bottom line is, we don’t have the formula yet, and we need a bigger, better idea.” She finished the meatball and sat in contented silence for a moment. Then she said, “In the meantime, now that we’re basically done with research, there’s something I’ve always wanted to do in Portland and never gotten around to.” She smirked at him.

  “What’s that?” He looked—at least by Jax standards—a little nervous, which made her grin.

  “It’s a surprise,” she said. “You drive.” On a whim, she added, “I’ll tell you exactly where I want you to go.”

  The look on his face informed her that only the fact that they were in a restaurant was keeping him from hauling her over the table.

  And she had to admit, she resented that table mightily.

  “Roller skating,” Jax said, doubtfully, as Chiara handed her credit card to the fifty-something, silver-haired woman behind the skate-rental counter.

  They’d checked in on Evan, again, via text to make sure he was okay with them extending their trip a little. He’d reassured them that he was totally fine. A couple of other friends had dropped by with Crohn’s-friendly food, and they were now all playing a very intense game of Scythe. Jax had made him promise not to tire himself out, and Evan had crossed his heart.

  “It’s the largest roller rink in the U.S.,” Chiara said. “And the only one with live organ music.”

  “It’s a D.J. right now. Organ music Saturday night—” The ticket seller looked back and forth between Chiara and Jax. “—if you want to come back then?”

  “We’re only in town today,” Chiara said. “But thank you. We’re still very excited to be here.”

  “She is,” Jax amended.

  The woman hid a smile.

  “Come on! It’s pretty cool; you have to admit it.” She tugged him over to the seats, shed her shoes, and began lacing up her skates.

  “I haven’t been on roller skates since I was—” He thought about it. “I think I went to a seventh grade, all-class roller-skating party when we lived in Florida.

  “Well, you’re in luck. They have a beginner section.”

  “Screw that,” he said. “It’s like riding a bicycle, isn’t it? You never forget.”

  He finished lacing his skates, lurched to his feet, and immediately sat back down, hard.

  “You never forget, huh?” she teased.

  “Okay. Take me to the beginner section.”

  She led him to where they could use a long bar to guide themselves the length of the first-timers’ section. “And look. See—up there? That’s the organ. Can you believe the size of that thing?”

  “That’s what she said,” Jax said.

  She swatted him. “Seriously?”

  He shook his head. “No. But her eyes did get very big when she saw it.”

  And truthfully, having had the full length of Jax pressed to the seam of her jeans yesterday, she could understand that.

  “You got very quiet,” he said.

  Because she was weighing how much she wanted him inside her against how much she wanted to keep her heart safe. Yes, she was going to miss him when he went. No matter what—he’d become a good friend in a few short weeks. But if she didn’t let this go any further, maybe she wouldn’t end up heartbroken again. Just—sad.

  She knew from painful past experience that she didn’t do casual sex. Her emotions always got involved. And if that kiss yesterday was any indication, she’d fall fast and deep. Just like she had last time.

  “Okay. I’ve got this,” Jax said. “I’m ready for big time.”

  “Need a hand?”

  “I’m good,” he said, and wobbled out onto the floor behind her. But after a moment, he skated closer to her and took her hand. “I don’t need it,” he clarified. “But I want it.” As he squeezed her hand tight, something in her chest squeezed, too.

  The truth was, her emotions were already involved. And maybe she should enjoy the novelty of this moment—organ and all—especially if she was going to get her heart broken anyway.

  It only took a few turns around the floor before he was skating like a pro, although he left all the backwards skating to her. Which was fine. Skating with both of her hands in his, while he pushed her gently in front of him, she found herself studying his beautiful face—green eyes, long lashes, strong nose and jaw, full lips. She’d never met anyone she liked to look at as much as Jax. For almost ten years, she’d waited to feel struck by lightning in a relationship the way she had in high school. And these last couple of years, she’d finally decided that maybe it had just been a product of high school. Maybe no one ever felt that way again after age eighteen.

  Except she did. Again. Now. Jax, not high school, had always been the magic.

  “You’re awfully deep in thought for someone who’s moving backwards,” he said, smirking.

  “I’m just—enjoying the view,” she said. Because what the hell.

  “You and me both.” He took a deep breath. “Kee.”

  Her heart started pounding.

  “You asked me what we’re doing, and I still don’t know. But I know I can’t be with you without wanting to be close to you. And I don’t just mean I want to kiss you. I mean, I do. God. I fucking want it like nobody’s business. And to touch you. Last night I lay awake and I licked every inch of you in my mind, I swear to God.”

  Girls Just Wanna Have Fun hid the sound of her gasp, but he’d seen it in her face; his eyes darkened to match the heat surging up in her.

  He shook his head. “But I swear, it’s not just that, not that there’s any just about it. No. It’s that I can’t be with you without wanting us to be—what we were.”

  She was breathless. Dizzy. She took his hand and toge
ther they skated to the side of the rink. Couples and families spun past, a blur of color; the music could have been anything. All she could see was him; all she could hear was his voice, telling her what she’d long ago stopped letting herself want.

  She took a breath. Regrouped. Cautioned herself: Slow down, Kee.

  “What we were,” she repeated carefully.

  “I don’t even know how to say this. When we were together, even though the rest of my life could be going to shit, I felt like everything was going to be okay. There were a million responsibilities pulling me in every direction, but at the center of it there was this perfect stillness, and it was you. Am I making any sense to you at all?”

  He asked this last bit with such desperation—she must have been staring at him with her mouth open. But it wasn’t because she didn’t understand. It was because she was so shocked to hear him say it. She’d spent so long telling herself that he hadn’t ever cared for her that it had become her truth.

  But here he was, telling her he’d felt what she’d felt.

  A new song came on the speakers. Can’t Help Falling in Love. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. But she was tired of holding back and being careful. She had spent so much of her life doing the right thing or the safe thing, and when she was with Jax, she just didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to let go and fall.

  “I know exactly what you’re talking about,” she said. “I felt like the rest of the world—all the applications, all the expectations, all the demands—fell away. And there was just us. And we were better together than apart. Like the Adventures. Part of why I’ve never wanted to draw since then is because I’ve always been afraid it wasn’t me. It was us.”

  He was shaking his head. “No. Don’t ever think that, don’t. The Adventures were a special thing, and yeah, they were us. But you have so much talent. And you have so many things to share and say.