by Geri Krotow
* * * *
Jena sat and listened to the old tree’s groans, which sounded more like clicks and snaps.
“Never was a more perfect tree created.” Jeb lifted one hand from her knee to reverently press against the trunk.
“She’s seen so much.”
“She?” He arched his heavy brow in mock protest.
“I know it’s crazy, but I do think of trees as females. Don’t ask me why.”
“They are nurturing, and they provide shelter, whether out here in the middle of nature’s worst events, or after they’ve been cut down and turned into lumber and then your favorite table.”
She ran her fingers over the bark and let a ladybug crawl onto her hand, its bright red a sharp contrast to her pale skin.
“Make a wish.” Jeb’s prompt spun her mind twenty years back, to long hours spent in this tree, their bare feet dangling just like they were now.
She closed her eyes briefly, feeling secure enough to do it since she had the huge, firm trunk under her palm. When she finished her wish, she opened her eyes and blew on the bug, which flew off in a tiny blur of wings. She met Jeb’s gaze.
“I can’t tell you, so don’t ask.”
“Okay. But I can tell you what I would have wished.”
“What?” Trembles started in her belly and reverberated to the tips of her toes as she saw every nuance of his expression.
“I’d have wished that we could redo the last two years, before you went to Paraguay.” That was not what she’d expected. Sadness and hurt sprang fast, and she blinked rapidly, hoping to stop any tears.
“Oh.” So he wished they’d never hooked back up, made their sexy friend agreement. “Well, of course. That makes sense. If we hadn’t have gotten together, as friends, you wouldn’t have gotten caught up in putting up the ransom.” He’d still work for Brandon, and Boats by Gus would be raking in the bucks. And they wouldn’t have this awkwardness between them. The need for one another, punctuated by knowing he was going to leave. He’d never indicated anything else.
“Do you really think that’s what I meant? Because if you do, you don’t know me very well.” He leaned forward, his arm against the trunk. His other hand caressed her cheek. “We’d have met at your parents’ Christmas party, just like we did. I’d have followed you back to your carriage house, just like I did. We’d make love, and then we’d agree to start a real relationship.”
“You mean…dating?”
He chuckled, and the sexy depth of it lit the spot between her legs on fire. “Yeah, for starters. Done it right for once, instead of keeping it quiet. Would you have agreed?”
“Absolutely not.” She’d still been focused on her undercover work, had looked at social work as her steady standby. In truth, it had been her dream for all these years—to get out of the secret agent business and throw all of her energy into community service. “I couldn’t have, not while I was still active with my former job.”
His expression sobered. “I know that. You’ve never been one for half measures.”
“I never meant to hurt you. Back in college, we were young. I didn’t know if we were together because we’d wanted it for so long, if it was something for the long haul. When the recruiter spoke to me, she made it sound as if I’d be doing so much for my country. I thought you’d always be here. Immaturity at its finest, right?”
“I know it hurt you when you came home that one summer, from what we all thought was a Navy training exercise.”
She tried to summon a smile to show it was okay, but failed. “Yeah, that was rough, when you brought your girlfriend to meet my folks. Whatever happened to her, anyway?”
“We only dated for a few months. She was for show, Jena. I had to prove I had a life that had nothing to do with you.”
“It’s not like you’ve been celibate when we haven’t been in touch.”
“I’m a red-blooded guy. I love women, yes. But none ever knew me like you do.”
She nodded. “You know me better than anyone.” She was making progress in her friendship with Robyn, and there were a few high school friends who always invited her to girls’ nights. She needed to take them up on their offers. But she knew no one else, no matter how much time she ever spent with them, would know her to the depths of her soul. Like Jeb.
“Not well enough.”
“We’re not back to that, are we? I couldn’t have told you about my job if I’d wanted to.” A bit of a lie, as there always exceptions—if she’d asked for permission. But that was only ever granted to significant others, and Jeb never had been hers, officially.
“Why didn’t you? Want to tell me?”
“I was afraid you’d get sucked into what I did—the emotional ups and downs. I’ve had more than a few dicey jobs, Jeb. This last one, the ransom demand, that was new. Usually they just threaten my life, no payoff involved.”
“What was different this time, that you called me?” Jeb’s eyes reflected his need to know, the worry he still must have over the work she’d done and not told him about.
“I’ve known for a while that it was time to get out of that world. I’d planned for Paraguay to be my last operation, and my required contract time ended last month. Anyhow, when it went south, it had a different feel to it. I wasn’t able to compartmentalize my emotions. I was scared.” She shook her head, clearing away the dark web of memories. “It’s over now. I’m a civilian.”
“What is your plan B? Did you have one before you started The Refuge?”
“The Refuge is plan B. Or rather, was. It’s plan A from here out. I always thought I’d come back here and use my social work degree. Maybe get a doctorate, although that’s a long way off.” She’d thought of a family, too. But every time she did, all she saw was Jeb. And since he’d always been clear about not wanting more than sex, it was a nonstarter. She wanted to believe that after he left for Atlanta she’d start over, but she couldn’t summon any hope.
“What about you, Jeb? What do you want out of life?”
“The bayou’s in my blood, and I never had an urge to be anywhere else. I’ve decided to try something new in Atlanta, which is promising. I always thought I’d travel the world, too. But…” His silence thickened the air between them.
“But what?”
“After seeing what I saw in South America, I’m not in any hurry to get out in the world and travel.”
His frankness made her smile despite the gravity of the topic. “You can’t judge South America, Paraguay, or even Asunción by what you witnessed. It gets just as ugly here with drug cartels, gangs. Look at The Refuge—we haven’t officially opened yet and we’ve already used Narcan. Bad things happen everywhere.”
“The opioid epidemic’s not sparing any community.” He rubbed his fingers along the trunk’s damp bark. “You were brilliant, Jena. Your clarity saved that woman’s life.”
She brushed aside his compliment. “No, the pharmaceutical genius who came up with an inexpensive antidote to heroin overdoses is brilliant. I did what I’m trained to do. You would have done it if I hadn’t been there.” She’d provided the training herself to the staff already in place.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, far off, yet close enough that faint vibrations reached them through the tree.
“Time to go.” Jeb hauled himself to his feet and she followed, sad that their time in the sacred space had to end. She ran her fingers over the heart, the initials.
“I’ve missed this so much.” She’d missed them.
A flash of lightning, followed by a bark of thunder. The storm was moving in.
“Come on, Jena.” Just as when they were kids, he took charge of keeping them safe. It was so clear now—Jeb, the caretaker. Classic child of an alcoholic. And now he was an adult. She knew from her work that the effects of his mother’s drinking would never leave him, even if Camellia was sober now. He’d s
pend his life shaking off the disproportionate sense of responsibility toward others, the guilt when he couldn’t fix someone else’s problems for them.
They made their way down from the tree carefully, having learned decades ago that even though descending seemed easier than climbing, it was more dangerous. A foot could slip on the emerald moss, a T-shirt could catch on a rough patch of bark. Once they were on the wide bough near the ground, Jeb turned, and she ran into him, so focused on following him she didn’t have time to stop.
Her breasts flattened against his chest and his hands went to her lower back, steadying her. Without hesitation, his mouth crashed down on hers and she wrapped her hands around his neck, careful not to tug too fiercely, as they’d both end up on the soggy ground, but needing this connection in this place where they’d come together for the very first time.
When he lifted his head, they were both breathless. His eyes glittered with need, and with a question she knew had to be an illusion. Jeb didn’t want more, did he? The idea released a different kind of hope, one she’d never dared contemplate.
“Thank you for coming here with me, Jena.” He kissed her forehead and stepped off the bough, holding her hand to help her down. A shock of lightning simultaneous with a thunderclap was their only warning before the skies opened again and the winds made the umbrella worthless. They were drenched within seconds.
They ran for the car, across the long lawn and through the garden, across the rain-slicked path and to the curb. Once they were in the car their heat steamed the windows, and Jena turned to Jeb.
“You’re welcome, Jeb. Thank you for bringing us back here.” If only she knew whether he’d meant to bring them back to the emotional place they’d begun their relationship. Free of the complications life had brought their way. When the thought of being anything but together was unfathomable.
Or had he simply wanted a way to keep their friendship intact, mindful that their resurrected sexual connection was about to end?
Chapter 15
“That has to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” Robyn dipped a huge tortilla chip into bright green guacamole. Mariachi music faded in and out as the accordion player meandered the large restaurant, aglow from hundreds of intricately cut terra-cotta votive candleholders on tables, counters, and windowsills.
“It was more than that.” Jena sipped her classic margarita, loving the bite of the lime against the salt. “I think he was trying for it to mean more, but then he didn’t say anything to indicate it was anything other than a trip down memory lane. And the fact remains, he’s taken a job in Atlanta. It starts week after next.” Disappointment flooded her all over again. She hated this part of herself—instead of enjoying the beautiful day she’d had with Jeb and accepting it as it was, she wanted it to mean something new.
“Maybe you’re the one who needs to say something.” Robyn’s eyes sparkled as she cautiously voiced what Jena had been thinking.
“How do you know me this well after such a short time?” She tried to make light of the all-too-accurate observation.
“It doesn’t take a lifelong girlfriend to see what we all have in common.” Robyn stirred her frozen margarita with her straw.
“Which is?”
“We want it all.” Robyn took a big sip through the bright pink straw. “The degrees, the paycheck, the house or condo, the hot guy. Don’t get me wrong—we deserve all of the above, and more. But sometimes it’s okay to say what we want. Are you afraid that Jeb’s going to turn tail and make a run for it if you even hint that you want something more permanent?”
Jena sighed. “We had a semi permanent situation with the sex-only gig. I ruined it when I…” Shit. She couldn’t tell Robyn about Paraguay, not at all. She started again. “I had a rough time on my last Navy deployment, and I reached out to him in a weak moment.”
“Let me guess, you told him you loved him.”
“Yes, but—”
“Hold up, girl. There is no ‘but’ if you said those three words to him.” Another chip, another sip. Robyn wiped her mouth with the brightly printed cocktail napkin. “You scared him. But he came back, so it didn’t do permanent damage, right?”
Jena looked at Robyn and saw no condemnation, no hint of recrimination. “I suppose not. But it’s still temporary.”
“We all might be leaving before we want to.” Robyn motioned to the windows, where rain poured onto the pavement. “The city can only handle so much of this.”
“Yeah.” Jena didn’t want to talk about global warming, though. Not tonight. She needed to sift through her emotions, something she’d not had to do since she entered agent training. Compartmentalization of any feeling that detracted from the mission was her go-to method. Or rather, it had been. “Too much has passed between me and Jeb. Sometimes it’s best to keep a childhood friendship as just that—a friendly bond.”
“See this?” Robyn’s hand moved as if waving a banner. “It’s the bullshit flag.”
Jena laughed.
“Here you go, ladies.” Their waiter pushed a cart up to their table, a cast-iron fajita pan atop a blue flame. He tossed in the shrimp and assorted veggies with practiced ease and placed the meal in front of Jena, then did the same with Robyn’s steak fajita. “Here are your tortillas. Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thanks.” She and Robyn both thanked him and dug into their entrées. Jena silently acknowledged that this new Friday night routine with Robyn was a lot more fun than going back to her place to eat takeout or a microwave meal. Definitely better than shoving down a quick meal alone in a tiny hotel room, in a godforsaken place that needed her agent skills.
Anxiety toyed with her newfound bliss. Was it possible to really, truly have it all? A satisfying job and a full, happy life?
For her, the answer was no. Because a full life for Jena had always included Jeb, and he’d made it clear time and again he wasn’t in it for the long haul. Plus, looking over their shared history, they always ended up apart. Whether it was her previous occupation or Jeb’s mistrust of her or simply life getting in between them, they had never continuously made a go of it.
And the ache in her heart that she’d always been so adept at shoving into the back compartment of her mind wasn’t staying put. There was no more locking down her most painful emotions.
Could she live a lifetime with this ache? She’d have to.
* * * *
“It sounds to me like you’re getting close to finishing your work at The Refuge, bro.” Brandon eyed Jeb as he popped a boiled peanut into his mouth, his posture relaxed as they shared a beer at the old tavern’s long, scarred, oak bar. Another Katrina survivor, they’d been coming to this bar since just after college, when their lives and worlds seemed limitless.
When he’d been so busy stoking his resentment against Jena for ditching him and entering the Navy—or so he’d thought—that he’d overlooked a very critical point: She was the only woman for him.
“Jeb?” Brandon nudged him with the bowl of nuts, breaking the exploration of his past.
“Yeah, I heard you. It’s complicated. I know it’s only been a short time, but I really like what I’m doing for The Refuge. It’s making a difference already.” But it would never be a full-time position, not for him, even if he weren’t moving to Atlanta.
“Problem is that the workload for their grant work and budget doesn’t justify more than ten hours a week for me.” Especially now that he’d put in the hardest part—laying the groundwork for The Refuge House’s cash flow.
“Which means it’s a full-time job for a mortal soul.” Brandon took a swig of his beer. “Shame you’re taking the Atlanta job. Otherwise you could offer to work at The Refuge part time. For example, if you agreed to come back to Boats by Gus full time, you could either work for The Refuge on weekends or donate your time.” Brandon was tiptoeing around Jeb’s relationship with Jena, not bringin
g her into the discussion, and he felt a wash of appreciation for his friend. He’d miss Jeb, too.
“Not happening.”
“You’re worried it’d get sticky if you and Jena don’t work out. If you stayed here.” Brandon cut to the marrow, one of his talents. A skill that had taken a modest flat-bottom boat production facility to the multimillion-dollar corporation that funded Jena’s ransom.
And saved her life.
“There’s that.” He savored the sip of his Guinness—always a favorite, even in the heat of the summer. “It’s just that I enjoy feeling like I’m giving back to something besides the bankroll. I’ve gone weak, right?”
“No, you’ve seen what’s important. I get it.” Brandon didn’t push Jeb on working together again. Disappointment flared, and Jeb realized that maybe he’d forgiven himself for pushing the corporation toward bankruptcy. Jena’s life on the line had made it a no-other-choice option.
“I don’t know if you can get where I’m coming from.”
“Jeb, man, why do you think it ended up not being such a big deal for me to take the job I have now? To give up being a boss—being in charge, having a say over every detail—to be another cog in a huge wheel?”
“I thought it was Poppy.”
“Hell, yes, it’s Poppy, but it’s what my feelings for her made me see. I could either focus on the gift right in front of my face, or break down over the loss of my first business.”
“Poppy’s a catch.” For Brandon. The woman was incredibly artistic and always expressing it, whether via the decorating and design she did for Brandon’s custom-built yachts, or Brandon’s formerly sterile home.
“We’re getting married.”
“What? Bro, that’s fantastic. Congratulations!” He slapped Brandon on his shoulder, all the while surprised at the warmth that spread across his chest. He was truly happy for his friend.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? It hasn’t been that long, if you look at a calendar. But I’ve been through more with Poppy than anyone else, ever. It was so intense, the highs and lows of how she and I met, got together.” By “got together,” Jeb knew his friend meant “fell in love.”