He hesitates none in his reply, as if this is an easy question to answer, “Love.” He stops drying and stands facing me. “Everything parents do is because of love. I can’t claim to understand all of Caroline’s reasons, Peyton, and I am not saying I agreed either, but suffice it to say that she thought she was doing the right thing by you. You were always her first priority, and she just wanted to protect you.”
My voice is small. “I didn’t know that I was supposed to worry. Maybe if I had worried more then—”
“I know how that sentence ends, Peyton. I’ve said that same line in my own head a million times. It’s no one’s fault.”
“But what if it is my fault? What if the stress I caused made her sick?”
“Pretty sure that teenagers aren’t known to have caused much more than gray hair. Forgive yourself. You didn’t have it easy growing up and Caroline did the best she could, but you were just a normal teenager finding your way.”
Jack only knows a minute amount with regard to my transgressions. Those involving my mother don’t equate to all my guilt and shame. I don’t deserve his compassion. I could tell the truth and it could set me free. It could also set me free of my new-found pseudo-siblings I have enjoyed getting to know today and this man who is the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure. They might reject me, forever.
Returning home, I reflect on the day. Tuck’s little babbles and attempts at putting sentences together like “me want” have me envious. If only it was so simple! Make sentences of the words you really needed to say and skip the stuff in between that gets you in trouble. I liked the jokes, even the inside ones I didn’t understand, the easy camaraderie of Danielle and Griffin, and seeing that Evan has been welcomed into the family mix. I’ve enjoyed the day, and still have tomorrow! I don’t have to look for things to be grateful for tonight.
I am waking up and going to Chicago! To see J.T.! I get nervous thinking about it. Am I crazy to have accepted his invitation?
I’m interrupted by the buzz of my phone on the nightstand. My stomach flip-flops. J.T? Not so lucky. A knot ties, instead. The text is from Kyle:
I had nothing to be grateful for today. Only plenty to be sorry for. I will make this up to you.
This is the last thing I need before bed and Chicago. Which part of this is hard for him to understand? There is no second chance. He has made his choice and I have made mine.
I don’t reply, turn my phone to do not disturb, and fall asleep happy.
NOVEMBER 28
CHAPTER 13 | J.T.
I wake up confused as to where I am. I roll over and it’s like a Mack truck has taken me down. Thirty-two hours of travel with only a couple of short naps will do that to a person. It resembles a hangover, though I haven’t had one of those in a very long time. Thank God. Damn! Thank God is right. I am home in the USA, and with any luck, I won’t wake up alone tomorrow.
Grabbing my phone, I catch a glimpse out the window. I’m awake now! Two days ago, I was in eighty plus degrees. Now there must be at least four inches of snow and a sky full of big white flakes coming down hard. This isn’t part of my plan. It is romantic and all, but damn, what good is romance if she can’t get here? No way Peyton is driving here in this.
I hop out of bed and grab my laptop off the desk across the room. I climb back into bed. It’s cold!
Plan B is successful. I text Peyton:
pls let me know when u get this! if you look outside before you check your email then check your email! Don’t panic – we got this!
I lie back against the pillows and wait. Not for long.
wow – who knew this was coming? #livingunderarock
I quickly reply:
email???
The minutes tick by as I assume she is checking. The screen lights up again.
Who knew trains still run in the snow?!?! u really do think of everything…don’t forget the clean sheets
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
does that work? can you make it?
An immediate response:
Not if u don’t stop texting me!!!! T-6…hours! will text from the train
Nice. She is good on the fly. No whining, no drama, she just rolled with it. Rare as the yellow M&M. The train station is only eight miles from her house, and I figure she can make that in the snow. I have gotten lucky. Hopefully not for the last time today.
As she’d said she would, Peyton texted when she made the train:
train virgin – this rocks!!! I’ll have to thank you properly…later
I appreciate her witty and flirtatious comeback and the hint at what might come later. Hopefully, me.
My head hasn’t been in this game for a long while. Disappearing to remote places on the globe for weeks at a time on a regular basis isn’t something a lot of women want in a relationship. If they knew what my work entailed, they would realize I’m never off having flings. I’m usually finding spots for those sick from food to puke or use a bathroom, talking someone off the ledge about a random bug bite they think might be their death, or philosophizing on why someone was born in the privileged nation of the U.S. while those around us are suffering.
I won’t sacrifice helping others for a relationship with a woman who doesn’t understand why my work means so much to me, not that I share the reason often. It’s far more challenging to a relationship than my work.
I didn’t want to pursue Peyton, but when I met her, something was different. She is different. The connection that has been there since the first time I looked into her blue eyes, with situational dark circles. Her eyes seemed to pierce me, seeing deep inside. It was unexpected and eerie, yet somehow comforting.
Our date went too quickly, then stirred up emotional turmoil when she had dissed me at the end of the night. Thankfully, she explained herself. I’d thought about her during the trip more than I care to admit. Imagining her blond waves sliding through my fingers, the taste of her kiss, and soft skin. I might have to admit this one could change the game—and throw me off mine.
No. I can’t let any woman have that power. I have honed focus and discipline over the last decade. If I could conquer what I have, a woman won’t get the best of me.
I make my bed as always, then clean the apartment bathrooms and kitchen, and proceed to tackle my trip report. It’s hard to admit, but I am jazzed up on nervous energy.
The number of times I look at my phone between our last communication and parking at the train station is painstaking. Country on the radio as I pull to a stop, lyrics about a love that breezes in, the torrid love affair that follows, and the ending everyone expects. What the hell am I doing?
Letting myself get carried away isn’t my modus operandi and bringing a stranger to overnight here definitely constitutes carried away. It’s a little late to change plans now so I switch to focus on gratitude, which is part of my program. The snow has been logistically challenging getting Peyton to Chicago, but since everyone acts like every snow storm is snowmageddon, I can be grateful for easy parking outside the train station.
Finally, after a long twenty-two minutes, I think I can see the approaching train. My phone agrees.
Here!!!
I can’t help the corners of my mouth rising into a silly stupid grin.
I see u well ur train anyway
She doesn’t respond, assumingly gathering her things and making her way off the train. To me. I scan the crowd on the platform and see her before she sees me. I take her in from head to toe. The way her blond hair cascades over her shoulders, curls floating as she walks, takes my breath away.
She looks appropriately dressed despite being a California girl, with a long North Face puffy coat and ankle-high boots that will withstand the snow. I am pleased my plans will still fly, as they will take some walking.
Her pretty pink lips call to me. Literally. I see them form, “Hi, J.T.” but I’m lost in wanting to feel them against mine and can’t hear her words. Her smile takes over her entire face including her e
yes, which glimmer the deepest shade of blue. It’s beautiful, and I almost blush with the compliment of knowing it’s for me.
The little race of my heart is because I picked up the pace to close the space between us, right? Stomach twist and turn is probably hunger? Must be. My palms aren’t sweaty. Yet.
Not to worry about the palms; they are on the back of her coat as I embrace Peyton, lifting the weight of her body against mine, while her feet leave the ground. I feel the warmth of her in my arms, against my body, her hair tickling my hands as she throws her head back. My lips press her temple and I breathe in floral and feminine.
“Hey you,” floats into my ear, lips brushing against it. I feel alive with a shiver down my spine. I feel a little weak in the knees and set her down but wanting to keep her as close as possible slide my palms up to cup her face. I hadn’t intended to come at her quite so quickly or intensely, but I’m finally getting that first kiss. Right now.
I immediately feel guilty I’ve succumbed to desire so easily and soften my lips against hers, pulling back just a little. She leans in, equally passionate against my mouth, and I pull her tight and kiss her hard. Her lips are soft, smooth, and warm. Our breath is hot against the cold air, as one. I close my fingers around silky strands of hair. My hands cock her head slightly left, parting her lips so that my tongue has space to find hers. Her breath draws in before softly moaning on the exhale. This might be heaven.
Her hands move behind my head, fingers gripping my hair, pulling me closer as our lips part gently then more firmly, again and again. Her fingers slide down the sides of my neck, and I feel the light pressure of her fingertips everywhere. It is one of my favorite places to be touched, and she’s found it in less than a minute. I groan instinctively into her mouth then push my tongue gently against hers. Her tongue runs along my bottom lip, then she bites it gently, and I know there is no turning back.
I feel her lips curve upward into a smile against mine. “You know we are in a public place, right?” My lips curl upward to match but I don’t stop kissing her, tongue dancing against hers, in slow circles, and long strokes, perfectly intertwined. Nipping her bottom lip just a bit, she lets out a little squeal. I open my eyes but hers are still closed. If anyone is looking at us, I hope they don’t glance below my belt.
I pull back, moving my hands to her hips. Her eyelids look unwilling to open. I don’t want the moment to end either. “It is official. Not all first kisses are created equal. Damn, Jennings, where’d you learn to kiss like that?” If the answer is too much practice, I hope she doesn’t come clean.
As if reading my mind, her eyes pop open. “I didn’t know that I could, actually. And, um, well, I guess I wanted to make up for before.”
I smile. “That was worth waiting for. It more than made up for it. Apparently, I should have raised my expectations for our first kiss.”
She looks almost embarrassed by the compliment and tucks her chin, smiling. I put my index finger under her chin and lift her face until our eyes lock. I have that off-kilter feeling once again that she knows me like she shouldn’t. I lean forward and place a soft kiss on her forehead.
I lean to pick up her bag, my eyes remaining locked in our gaze. The fingers of my left hand find hers and slide right into place.
Out of the cold, I need to make sure she is okay with what I’ve scheduled for us. “I have a plan for today, but promise me you will tell me if this doesn’t work for you, okay?” Logistics in Chicago aren’t easy. “I arranged to park at our friend’s condo. Since he’s out of town his garage spot is free. You can change or freshen up there if you like. Then, we will walk a couple of blocks to a bowling alley where a few friends are having an annual tourney for whoever happens to be in town. Then, we will walk several more blocks,” I look at her to gauge any hesitancy but see none. I offer anyway, “Or we can cab if you want. To the train station. We’ll take the train to the hockey game if that’s cool?” I pause for her reaction.
“Okay, so, bowling then hockey game,” she says looking down at her leggings and boots. “Okay, I’m good to go.” Then she turns serious. “Wait. Actually, I don’t think that plan is going to work out. There is one little detail. Well, more like kind of a major detail.”
My eyes widen, fearful my calculated plan is about to be compromised. I should have asked if she liked hockey and bowling. What the hell had I been thinking? I guess I was hoping she’d just be happy because I planned something. But only if she likes the something! “What is it? You don’t like hockey? I’m sorry, I just assumed, stupidly I might add,” might as well throw myself under the bus, “everyone from Detroit loves hockey.”
“I do, J.T. I do love hockey. But in fact, I might be violating my fan code of agreement attending a Blackhawks game as a Wings fan. I took the oath, and there are severe penalties and repercussions. I’m sorry, but do you think maybe we could do something else? I hear there is a great theater district here somewhere.”
I look over, squinting her expression into focus. She looks serious as a heart attack, solid game face on, but I know she is playing me. Might as well have some fun with it. I match her sincerity. “Okay then, maybe I can scalp the tickets, though it’s really too bad. Zach’s family has had them for over twenty years. They are really, really good seats. I hear Little Shop of Horrors is in town. We can go see that instead.”
She bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Hmm, maybe I could make an exception just this once? I think I’d rather eat liver for a week than subject myself to that particular musical.”
“Or, maybe you could make an exception because the Red Wings are playing the Blackhawks?”
Now her surprised expression is spectacular. And beautiful. She turns her whole body towards me. “Get out! Really?”
I try to remain solemn. “I’m surprised the fan code of agreement wouldn’t include a game schedule.” I laugh out loud.
“Oh, yeah, about that. I made it up.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. Too bad though, I was kind of thinking I found the perfect woman if she’d trade hockey for a musical.”
Her eyes widen as she blinks, summing up any reality I may have intended in that statement. Not many men would describe that as the perfect woman.
“Well, I’d really be fine with either, but since you already have the hockey tickets, how about we save the musical for next time?” Well played, Peyton Jennings. She wants me to know she likes both. I smile to myself, rethinking the perfect woman definition.
“Oh, and J.T.?”
I look toward her, indicating she has my attention.
“Can we see anything but Little Shop of Horrors?”
I laugh and nod. We’ve just made future plans.
As soon as I shift into park and turn the key in the ignition, Peyton turns to me. “That’s my signal. That was a really long eleven blocks. I was counting to distract myself.”
“From?” I ask quizzically.
“Thinking about how long it was going to be until kiss numero dos. I’m looking for a Union Station repeat,” she replies sheepishly.
She has nothing to worry about because I am more than willing. I lean into her sweet smell and warmth and find her mouth. I grip the back of her head, lips tangling passionately, each movement intense, as we take each other in more fully.
When my tongue makes contact with hers, she moans into my mouth and the vibration against my lips causes the familiar stirring of arousal. I’ve never experienced a kiss this powerful. I’m not sure I like the loss of control. But self-control be damned, my hand, under duress from my brain, has somehow found her thigh. It’s dark and private here, and my fingers can explore what they could not earlier. They curl into her flesh, massaging, then moving under her butt and up toward her hip. This wanting is going to make for a long day. In the best way, but still.
I’m managing to tame my hands, but holy hell if hers aren’t misbehaving! I feel the pressure of her hand moving up the inside of my thigh. It doesn’t come to rest
until she is cupping me through my jeans. She squeezes and everything inside me clenches. Her hand finds its way under my shirt and her fingertips graze bare skin. Her touch is the perfect combination of tenderness and firm pressure. I want more.
Sweaters and coats are hindering this opportunity.
She starts to laugh, our lips still intertwined. “Are you as frustrated as I am?” She puts a minimal amount of space between us, just enough to speak. And breathe. Neither of us is doing either very easily. Our ragged breaths are coming in matching short bursts.
“How can you tell?” Words fit in between additional kisses.
“I am reading your mind. Way too many clothes.”
Nailed it. Which is exactly what I want to do to her. “You got that right. If you thought eleven blocks was bad, how are we going to make it through the next five hours?”
She places both hands flat on my chest, over my clothes, of course.
“By anxiously,” she says pushing the collar of my coat out of the way and moving her lips to my neck, delivering gentle kisses, “awaiting,” more kisses, “your,” chills run down my shoulders, “roommate’s,” chills down my arms as she tugs on my earlobe with her teeth, “bed.”
“Well, I am glad we have that to look forward to. But if you don’t stop that right now, I’m not going to be held responsible for what happens next.”
“Promise?”
Could this get any better? “Uncle,” I say moving my head away from her lips. “Uncle.” I dodge left as she moves to keep her lips affixed to my neck, laughing all the while. “Uncle.” The word flows, breathlessly, one more time from my lips as they find hers again and suck in her bottom lip slightly while pushing my tongue ever so slightly into the space it creates.
“Ugh, you’re driving me—”
She pushes back off my chest and gives me a sexy grin.
“Wicked crazy, J.T. Walker.”
She sits up straight and opens her own door, and her feet are on the ground before I can even think about getting around to her side. I am not even sure I can walk at this point, between the uncomfortable stiffness in my jeans and feeling like I’ve just done a full legs workout. Damn, what this girl does to me!
One Day After Never (The Second Time's the Charm Book 1) Page 11