tip of his finger. He pulled back his hand, and his jaw dropped open.
"Oh, Bee," he said, his voice full of warning, or was it promise? "You're gonna pay for that one." Briefly sucking on the tip of the finger I'd just bit.
Bethany arrived within a few minutes of Jake’s call. The second he opened the door, she scooted past him into the house.
"Come on in," Jake said sarcastically, closing the door behind her. Bethany had already settled herself on the couch and was riffling through the contents of her tote bag.
"You two get where you need to be. I'm fine here," she said, pulling out two knitting needles and some pink yarn. Whatever project was attached to the needles looked pretty ragged.
"Knitting?" I asked her, gesturing to her hands, and she began to absentmindedly knit. Bethany, the once sharp as a tack, uber powerful lawyer whose claws were almost as sharp as her tongue was sitting on my couch, in my living room, knitting. It was bafflingly out of character for her.
Bethany crossed the needles over one another, her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Her foot tapped along with her knitting pace.
She barely paused to breathe when she spoke. "Well, yeah, since I don't have a job anymore to keep me occupied, I needed something to take up some of my time so I don't die of boredom. My shrink suggested I get a hobby so I went on the iPad, and I watched a few of those YouTube videos, or whatever they are called, you know, the ones where a ten year old with a video camera can basically teach you everything you need to know and make you feel old as dirt at the same time? So here we are, halfway to a sweater for Georgia." Bethany had quit her job as the district attorney shortly after Georgia was hurt. In her words 'her 'right and wrong' radar needed a reset, and she couldn't do that and still be the pit-bull lawyer without a conscious she was paid to be.
Bethany held up the small scrap of something that was connected to the needles, I could see the disappointment on her face through the two big holes in the middle of the patch. She shook her head. "It's a work in progress." She said, starting her knitting again. "Over, under, and through." She muttered as she furrowed her brows and squinted down at her work.
"We'll be back in a little while," I assured her. Not actually sure how long whatever it was Jake had planned would take. "Thanks for coming over on such short notice." Before I turned to go, Bethany looked up from her project, her eyes watery.
Thank you. She mouthed to me, and in a flash, she was again back to knitting. "Take your time. I'll be at this darn thing all night anyway." The impatient biting tone back in her voice.
Jake didn't say good bye to Bethany. He didn't say anything for that matter. He opened the sliding glass doors and ushered me through, following closely behind me. Jake took my hand and led me down the backyard to the dock, and when we got there, he sat me down on a plastic bench that doubled as a storage trunk for all of Georgia's pink fishing gear. I picked up a little pink visor with the words DADDYS LITTLE FISHING GIRL monogramed across the front that had fallen behind the bench. I ran my fingers over the raised lettering and sighed to myself.
We'd come so far in such a short period of time. Georgia and Jake both acted like they'd always been part of each other’s lives. Sure, I may have birthed her and fed her and clothed her on my own for years, but then Jake showed up and BOOM.
Daddy's little girl to her very core.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
In my life, I'd never experienced the type of love that exists between a father and daughter. The closest thing I ever had to a father was Jake's dad Frank, and although he would always hold a special place in my heart for all he did for me and Georgia, he was rarely sober enough to show off the fatherly side of himself.
I knew nothing of the love between a parent and child until Georgia came along, and she became my entire world.
Watching Jake with Georgia was always a new experience for me. They wore their love for each other on their sleeves. There was no doubt that when anyone looked at the two of them together that they would see that they were enamored with one another.
I know Jake loved me, and that love was limitless. But I knew that the love he felt for Georgia was on a whole other level.
Jake's fishing boat, a twenty foot outboard that used to belong to his brother, sat up on a lift he'd built to keep barnacles from growing on the hull and the saltwater from eating at the paint, he'd just put a new motor on it.
Jake was taking Georgia out early the next morning for their inaugural fishing trip on the newly fixed boat. Meanwhile I would head out while it was still dark to photograph the sun rising over the beach for my newest set of post cards.
It's funny actually because Georgia had to literally be dragged out of bed on most mornings when the sun was already high in the sky, but when Jake was taking her fishing, her eyes sprang open before the sun had even started to peek over the horizon and was usually the one bouncing on our bed to wake Jake up first.
Jake picked up some sort of netting that was spread out on the grass above the seawall. He wrapped it around his arm a few times and set it in a bucket.
"What's that?" I asked him as he set the bucket down next to the storage bench.
"I'm teaching Gee how to throw the cast net tomorrow. Since she likes fishing so much, it's 'bout time she learned how to catch her own bait," he said, his southern accent had grown thicker since he'd come home to Coral Pines. I sometimes forgot that with all of Jake's inner turmoil, and all the things he was capable of doing, that some part of him was just a southern boy who liked to fish and tinker with trucks.
"That net thing is bigger than she is. How much does it weigh?" I asked, noticing that Jake’s very toned bicep muscles strained when he'd lifted the bucket.
"Oh, it's pretty heavy, but that one isn't hers," He said. "This one is." Jake reached behind the bench I was sitting on and grabbed a smaller bucket. He opened it and tilted it toward me so I could see the noticeable smaller net inside.
Of course, it was pink.
My heart broke in the best of ways.
"Duke over at the bait shop is starting to question my sexuality with all this pink fishing shit," Jake said with a smile. "Gonna have to start going to the big chain stores in Logan Beach to dodge the rumor mill."
"Fuck the rumor mill," I said. And I meant it. Anyone who came between Jake and Georgia doing something they loved together would have to answer to me.
"Yeah, fuck them, baby," Jake said, adding the smaller bucket to the boat. He lifted the panel cover for the electric to the lift and hit the switch to lower the boat into the water. It creaked and groaned, the sound of metal on metal made the hairs on my arm stand on end as the heavy wires that held up the boat slowly uncoiled from the spinning wheel at the top of the lift.
"What exactly are we doing?" I asked.
Jake ignored me and pointed to the back of the boat once it was fully floating on top of the water. "Do you think she'll like it?"
"Of course, you know she loves the boat. You put a lot of hard work into it and..." I stopped myself from saying anything else because I realized that it wasn't the boat he was talking about. It was what was written on the back of the boat. In bold cursive lettering to one side of the motor it simply read 'Gee'.
My throat felt like something was caught in it. "No Jake, she isn't going to like it. She is going to love it and freak out and not be able to stop talking about it for days."
Jake lit a cigarette. He looked pleased with my reaction and with himself. "That's what I was going for. You know it was between that and buying her a pony. I'm not cleaning up horse shit."
Jake smiled and stepped down into the boat, holding out his hand to help me onboard. Jake fired it up, and I took the seat next to his. He turned on the spotlight and backed us out of the dock. We puttered down the canal, the spotlight shining off the eyes of a few alligators, and scattered the iguanas lining the seawall, some of them diving into the water, others found refuge in the mangroves.
&n
bsp; The open waters of the Coral Pines River shone orange with the glow of the full moon. Jake pressed down on the throttle, and it felt as if we were skating on top of the calm waters, the warm salty air skipping over the front windshield, tangling in my hair.
With all the ugliness I'd experienced here, it was easy to overlook how beautiful the place really was.
We were only on the open water for a few minutes before Jake slowed the boat in the middle of the river. He pulled to the side of a marker, killing the engine when we were hidden between the mangroves of a small cove. He tossed the anchor.
"Why are we out here, Jake?" I asked. It was so quiet my regular tone of voice sounded like a scream.
"I told you why, baby. I figured out a way to help you." He lit another cigarette, rested his elbows on his knees and leaned toward me. "And this is where I think I should do it," he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.
"Do what?" I whispered back. My heart now firmly in my stomach.
"You trust me, don't you?"
"Why do you keep asking me that?" Yes, of course I trusted him. I would trust him with my life and Georgia’s, but it was the second time he'd asked me the same question, and that was making me nervous.
Jake put out his cigarette in an old soda can and stood up, holding out his hands to me. "Come here," he said. Pleading with his eyes.
I stood and took his hands. He pulled me into him and pressed his warm lips to mine. I was so caught up in the kiss that I hadn't noticed the small knife in his hand. He pulled back from our kiss and held up the knife between us.
"What is that for?" I swallowed. My heart beating loud enough for fish to hear.
Jake kissed that magical spot behind my ear and whispered against my neck. "I want to cut you."
"What?" I breathed. His words frightening, his touch tempting. I didn't know which way was up. I didn't think I'd heard him right, because he couldn't have just said that he wanted to cut me.
"You say that you look at your scars every single day, and you remember what happened. You feel the hurt all over again, and as much as I want to, I can't take that away for you, but I can do something else." Jake took a deep breath. I can give you a new mark, a new scar associated with a good memory so that when you see your scars, there will be a tiny bit of good mixed in with all the bad."
There was a reason why I loved Jake, why I was drawn to him from the get-go.
He fucking gets me.
No shrink, no meditation, no standard orthodox method of mental repair was going to fix me, and Jake knew it. So he offered me what he could.
"Do it," I breathed. I hated the idea of being cut, but I loved what he was offering me. The scars had me trapped in my own mind. He was offering me freedom. "Do it."
Jake didn't answer me. He just pulled me into him and kissed me, his tongue seeking entrance. With one hand on the back of my head, he tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled until my head tilted back and I opened my mouth to him. He smelled of sweat and the salt water. He tasted like mint and cigarettes. I couldn't get close enough. He pushed me back until the back of my knees hit the small bench seat in the back of the boat. Jake pulled back from me and unbuttoned my shorts. I lifted my hips to so he could slide them down my thighs. He tossed them on the captain’s chair and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down. He ran his tongue from my belly button down to my clit softly sucking on my sensitive bud as he tossed my panties overboard.
"Hey!" I tried to argue with him about discarding my underwear, but he just lapped his tongue over me, pulling my legs up over his shoulders as he knelt down in front of me. I quickly forgot what I was about to say.
He licked my core like he was kissing me. It was intimate, soft, yet sexy and passionate. He was telling me he wanted me with his tongue, and my pussy was responding in turn by pulsing around his tongue as he licked and sucked on my folds.
I vaguely remembered him saying something about cutting me, about not replacing the bad memories, but dominating over them. I couldn't focus. The boat was rocking from side to side as I tried to buck my hips. Jake held me in place with his strong hands, pulling me toward him and devouring me with his tongue like I was his last meal.
I opened my eyes as my orgasm hit. Staring up at the night sky, I clenched my thighs around Jake’s head as I was pelted by wave after wave of pure fucking pleasure, courtesy of sexy Jake fucking Dunn.
My HUSBAND.
Jake didn't wait for me to come down. He stood, removed his belt, pulled down his jeans and in one swift motion flipped me onto my stomach, I gripped the edge of the boat to brace myself. I felt his knees against my ass and then he was seeking entrance, rubbing himself in my wetness before pushing his way inside. My body stretched to extreme lengths to accommodate his size and when he was fully seated inside my body, I felt so full I thought I was going to burst at the seams.
Jake thrust into me once. Hard. I shrieked in surprise, and my insides clenched around him. He bent over me with his chest over my back and kissed the base of my neck as he pulled out and thrust into me again. Hard.
The buildup was slow at first, but as Jake continued his assault on my sex, it continued to grow and grow until I was pushing my ass back toward him and silently begging for some sort of release. I heard a clicking noise and didn't realize what was happening until my orgasm slammed into me. I was vaguely aware of a sharp scratching sensation running down my arm but I was focusing on the release of the most amazing pressure. Everything inside me was alive and content. Jake grabbed my hips and with every deep thrust he pulled me hard against him. Faster and faster until he pushed in as far as he could, then pulled out. Hot liquid spurted out onto my ass.
A different kind of liquid dripped down my arm.
"Come here, baby," Jake said, pulling me up by my arm, setting me on his lap. Jake pulled out a first aid kit and started cleaning the blood off my arm with an alcohol swab. "Did I hurt you?" Concern written all over his face.
"No," I said honestly.
"Good. Because I think this will do the trick." I looked down at my arm. Next to the deepest scar Jake had followed the lines of my tattoos and carved a line about six inches in length into my skin. Not deep enough to cause permanent damage, but deep enough to leave a mark.
A visible scar.
Now, when I looked at my arm, I would see my scars and remember that one of them held a great memory.
Jake had given that to me.
Jake pulled out a needle and thread, and to my surprise, he started stitching me up.
"How do you know how to do that?" I asked.
"I had to do it to myself a few times."
"Do I want to know more?" I asked.
"Nope."
"Okay then." I cupped his face in my hands and brought his mouth to mine. I pressed my lips against his, trying to convey my gratitude to him with that kiss. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me. You would've done the same."
"Yes, I would have. So please, when you need to be sliced open, let me know. I'm your girl." I laughed at the absurdity of it all.
"Yes, you are my girl," Jake said softly, ignoring my sarcasm. Closing the first aid kit and setting it aside, he returned my kiss. Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, he ran his tongue across my lips slowly. The passion from earlier sated, his kiss wasn't sexual, it was sensual.
I looked down at the crooked sew job on my new arm wound then back up at Jake.
"I fucking love you," I said.
“I fucking love you too, Bee.”
EPILOGUE
Abby
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock
"Just a minute!" I called out to whomever was at the door.
More frantic knocking.
"Just a freaking minute!" I yelled again, setting my open book on the coffee table, hoping it wouldn't close so I could get right back to where I'd left off. I had a thing about my books, and dog earring the page was out of the fucking question. The clock above the TV said
it was after ten. Georgia had long been asleep and Jake was on his way home, he'd stayed at the shop late tinkering on my truck which wasn't running AGAIN. I refused to let him buy me a new one no matter how much he pushed the issue. The truck was all I had left of Nan and I wasn't just about to let it go when I knew Jake could work his magic on it. Although the poor thing might have been telling me that it was time to let her go because it was the third time in a month Jake had to repair or replace something to get it back up running again.
Fucking suicidal truck.
I opened the door and had my hand on the handle of the screen door, about to tell Mrs. Flannagen for the umpteenth time that no matter how many times she stopped by on a Saturday night that Jake and I would not be attending church this Sunday or any Sunday after that, when the door flew open and I was met with a massive wall of man.
Dark and scary as fuck.
Jake was easily six feet tall but this guy had at least a few
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