Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  "How cute?"

  "Very cute." I cleared my throat. "And the next time you visit, you'll get to meet him, since he'll be staying in the guest house."

  "No kidding?" she said. "How'd that happen?"

  I told her how Joel had earned one of the endowments, and how he'd be using my dad's old studio. I finished by telling her, "So, it just made sense for him to stay in the guest house, you know, because the studio's right above it."

  My aunt paused. "But why wouldn't he stay with you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm just saying, why go halfway? Why not invite him to live in the main house?"

  I had considered it. I loved having Joel near me. And from what I could tell, he felt the same way. But when it came to romance, I wasn't sure that living together was what I wanted.

  I mean, we hadn't even said the L-word.

  I said, "That's kind of rushing things, don't you think? And besides, I guess I'm kind of old-fashioned that way."

  "Does he know that?" she asked.

  "Does he know what?"

  "Why you didn’t ask him to stay in the main house."

  "No." I paused. "I mean, we didn’t really talk about it."

  "Forget the guest house," she said. "Shack up. Live a little." She laughed. "If nothing else, it'll drive your lawyers crazy."

  She was right. In truth, Derek was long past crazy already. Happily, he was still out of town, which was definitely a good thing.

  "Don't worry," I said. "They'll go nuts enough with Joel in the guest house."

  "Exactly!" she said. "So why go halfway? And besides, what if he's insulted?"

  "Who? Derek?"

  "Screw Derek," she said. "I'm talking about your hot artist."

  I still wasn't following. "But why would he be insulted?"

  "Because you're putting him up in the guest house, like a servant or something." Her tone grew teasing. "If you really like him, don't treat him like your sexy gardener. Treat him like a partner. Trust me. He'll like that."

  Her words found their mark. Joel did take care of the lawn. And he'd been acting like a handyman of sorts.

  Still, I said, "Oh come on, he wouldn't think that. He's not remotely insecure. If you met him, you'd know."

  "Alright," she said. "Then I'm coming for a visit."

  "Really? When?"

  "This weekend."

  I had to laugh. "When did you decide that?"

  "Just now. I want to meet this sexy gardener of yours."

  "He's not a gardener. He's an artist, remember?" I smiled. "And he's amazing."

  "Great. Then I can't wait to meet him."

  I was still smiling when I got off the phone. And yet, her advice haunted me the rest of the day. Was I treating Joel like a servant?

  One way or another, I'd have to ask him.

  Chapter 64

  It was late afternoon, and we'd spent most of the day working to set up the guest house and studio above it. The building itself had three stories. This included the garage on the lowest level, living space on the second, and the studio on the third.

  In the guest house, I'd washed the sheets, made the bed, cleaned the bathroom, and polished the furniture.

  Now, I was wiping down everything else, hoping to make every inch of the space feel fresh and new.

  As for Joel, he'd spent most of the morning moving his supplies from the storage unit into the guest-house garage. Already, the garage was bursting with covered artwork, along with boxes and bins, all in various stages of being unpacked.

  As we worked, we called up and down to each other and found plenty of reasons to invade each other's territory.

  I was wiping down the baseboards in the small kitchenette when I heard Joel say, "You know I'm a guy, right?"

  I looked up. He was wearing tattered jeans and a white T-shirt with grimy splotches down the front. His biceps bulged as he lifted an oak kitchen chair and moved it out of my path.

  I felt myself smile. "Really?" I gave his physique a long, lingering look. "I had no idea."

  He set the chair aside and smiled down at me. "If I asked you to stop, would you?"

  "Why would I stop?"

  "Because it's not necessary."

  "Sure it is," I insisted. "You want it to feel like home, right?"

  At this, he laughed.

  I gave him a perplexed look. "What's so funny?"

  "Baby, if you saw my house growing up?" He paused. "Well, let's just say, clean baseboards weren't our thing."

  Maybe that was true, but I refused to be discouraged. "Well, then you just don't know what you were missing."

  His gaze warmed. "I do now."

  I smiled up at him. "See?"

  "But it's not the baseboards." He flicked his head toward the narrow stairway, just a few paces away. "Now c'mon. There's something I wanna show you."

  "But I'm not done," I said.

  "So take a break." He reached down and tugged me to my feet. He pulled me close and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. Into my hair, he said, "Or better yet, forget the baseboards."

  "But–"

  "Come on." He pulled away and guided us toward the stairway and then up the stairs to the third floor.

  Inside the spacious studio, I glanced around. Already, he'd carried up a few plastic bins, along with at least a dozen boxes, stacked on top of each other.

  But the place was still mostly empty. I knew why. It had taken a colossal effort just to move his things from storage into the garage below. Now, he'd need to lug the whole mess up the stairs before he could truly settle in.

  Inside the studio, he led me to a far corner, where he popped the top off a large, grey bin. Inside, I spotted a few bricks, along with a sturdy-looking metal case, slightly smaller than a shoe box. He pulled it out and handed it to me.

  Gripping the case with both hands, I asked, "Should I open it, or…?

  When Joel nodded, I raised the lid and looked inside, only to feel my eyes widen. I looked to Joel and asked, "Is this yours?"

  "Not mine," he said. "Ours."

  Okay, now I was really confused. Again, I looked down. The box was filled with bundles of cash, secured with big rubber bands. I pulled out a random bundle and rifled through it. I saw mostly twenties, along with a few fives, some fifties, and a whole bunch of hundreds.

  I looked to Joel. "Where'd you get this?"

  "I already told you. From fighting."

  "It pays that good? Seriously?"

  He shrugged. "For some people."

  Obviously, he was one of those people.

  "And," he continued, "it helps when you bet on yourself." He gave me a crooked smile. "Assuming you win."

  "So you bet on yourself?" I said. "Is that even legal?"

  He moved closer. "Baby, nothing about it was legal."

  I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. Again, I looked to the money. "How much is this? Do you know?"

  "The exact amount? Nah. Never counted."

  "Why not?"

  "You wanna count it?" he said. "Be my guest."

  I did want to count it, but mostly out of curiosity. "But why did you say it's ours?"

  "Because I want you to know, I wasn't lying. I can cover us." He flicked his head toward the cash. "And I can make more if we need it."

  From fighting? No. I definitely didn't want that. And I knew in my heart that he didn't want that either.

  "But you won't need it," I reminded him, "because you'll have the endowment money."

  "No," he said. "You'll have the endowment money. Remember?"

  "But that's not what we agreed on. I can't take your money."

  "You're not taking it," he said. "We're sharing it. Like you're sharing this place."

  Instantly, that reminded me of my aunt's admonishment. Pushing aside the money issue, I said, "Can I ask you something? You're not insulted, are you?"

  "About what?"

  I glanced around. "That you're living here. I mean, instead of the main house?"

  Joe
l stiffened. "Why do you ask?"

  Something about his stance made me wonder. Maybe he was insulted. "So you would rather live in the main house?"

  Probably, it was a stupid question. Of course he would. Maybe the way he saw it, I was shuffling him off to the guest house because I didn't trust him or something. Or maybe he thought I was a snob. My stomach tightened. Or selfish, like I didn't want to share my own living space.

  Just great. I was a paranoid, selfish snob. Maybe my aunt was right. Maybe I had insulted him.

  But in front of me, Joel was shaking his head. "No. I wouldn’t."

  So he wouldn’t want to live in the main house? That was a relief. Or, at least, it should've been. But for some reason, I felt compelled to ask, "Why not?"

  "Does it matter?"

  His evasiveness made me pause. "No. Not really." I tried to keep my tone casual. "I guess it makes sense, like if you want guests or something."

  He gave me a look. "What kind of guests?"

  Feeling suddenly unsure, I summoned up a smile. "You know what? Forget I asked." I forced a laugh. "Actually, that's a big relief. I mean, that you're not insulted or anything. My aunt – she was really worried about it."

  Even as I talked, a funny thought occurred to me. Now, I was the one who was worried. How stupid was that?

  Gently, Joel took the case from my hands and set it on a nearby stack of boxes. And then, he pulled me into his arms. He brushed his lips against my hair and said, "You want the reason?"

  I couldn’t resist. I nodded against him.

  "I'm not gonna shack up with you."

  I froze. His embrace was sweet, but his words were sour.

  Shack up. My aunt had used the exact same term, but on Joel's lips, it sounded different, like something dangerous, and not in a good way.

  I was still mulling that over when Joel said, "Your aunt's full of it. You know that, right?"

  I pulled back to look at him. "You're not angry I asked, are you?"

  "At you?" He shook his head. "No. But your aunt, she's gotta stop pulling that shit."

  I frowned. "What shit?"

  Joel's voice hardened. "She doesn't even know me."

  "So?"

  "So she's telling you to move me in?" His gaze darkened. "I could be anyone. A fucking ax-murderer, for all she knows."

  "Except you're not."

  "Yeah. But she doesn't know that." He gave a slow shake of his head. "This world? It's full of monsters, who'd like nothing better than to get their claws into something as sweet as you."

  At the image, I almost laughed. "But you're not a monster."

  "No." His voice grew quiet. "But I could be."

  "But you're not," I repeated. "And besides, my aunt will totally love you."

  His mouth lifted at the corners. "I'm not sure that's a mark in her favor."

  "Well, I'm sure enough for both of us." I paused. "And about the whole living-together thing?" I gave a shaky laugh. "Forget I mentioned it, okay?"

  "I will. And you wanna know why?"

  "Why?"

  Once again, he pulled me into his arms. "Because that's not your style." His voice softened into something sweet. "And I love you for it."

  Chapter 65

  Those three little words hung in the air. My stomach fluttered, and my breath caught. "What?"

  "You heard me."

  I pulled back to gaze up at him. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? The look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. I felt myself smile. Unable to resist, I teased, "But wait. You told me you'd never say such a thing."

  "Me?" He gave me a sheepish smile. "Nah. I didn't say that."

  I gave him a playful shove. "You did, too."

  But Joel shook his head. "That was Cigar talking. Not me."

  It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to that dreadful nickname, the one that had been inspired by a phrase I'd come to hate. Close, but no cigar.

  The way it looked, those days were over. And finally, Joel was accepting the fact that good things could happen for him – really good things, judging from his current prospects.

  I smiled up at him. "So, no more cigar, huh?"

  "Forget the cigar," he said, pulling me close once again. "Now, tell me what I wanna hear."

  Feeling suddenly shy, I said, "What?"

  "You know what."

  But before I could respond, he said, "Wait. Let me say it right." He lowered his head and brushed his lips against my forehead. "Melody?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "I love you."

  I melted against him. "I love you, too."

  His arms closed tighter around me. "You bet your ass you do."

  I burst out laughing. "Well, aren't you the cocky one?"

  "Nah. I just know a good thing when I see it." His voice grew quiet again. "You're my good luck charm, you know that?"

  It was a nice sentiment, but he was giving me far too much credit. My own voice grew quieter, too. "No. It's all you."

  I felt his hands in my hair and his lips on my forehead. "Sorry, but you're wrong. Before you? My life was shit."

  "Oh come on," I said. "There had to be good things, too."

  "Maybe. But they all ended the same way."

  "How?"

  He gave a humorless laugh. "In flames." He pulled back. "And as far as your question…"

  "What question?"

  "About guests," he said. "There's only one I want." He grinned down at me. "The rest can piss off."

  I couldn't help it. A giggle escaped my lips. "Oh yeah?"

  "Damn straight." His gaze warmed. "Because I don't want anyone here but you."

  I felt my gaze shift to the floor below us. In the guest house there was a bed. And it was freshly made with clean sheets.

  When I looked back to Joel, he was still smiling. "What?" he said. "You want me to prove it?"

  I did, in fact.

  A minute later, we fell, laughing, onto the double bed in the guest house. Something in Joel had changed. I could see it in his eyes, and I could feel it in his touch.

  We were still fully clothed – me in shorts and a thin tank-top, and him in his tattered jeans and white T-shirt, with all those streaks of dust.

  Maybe I should've cared. I had, after all, just washed the comforter.

  But I didn't care. I couldn’t, especially when he trailed his fingers along the side of my face and whispered so sweetly, "I love you."

  I wanted to burst with joy. "I love you, too."

  I didn't care how many times we said it, it would never be enough. We were laying side-by-side in the quiet room, simply gazing into each other's eyes.

  It felt like one of those moments, a scene from a dream, where everything stands still, like a still image, to be remembered always. I heard myself say, "I can't imagine life without you."

  He smiled. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

  I smiled back, wanting to savor this moment, along with the certain knowledge that this was the guy I wanted forever, and the way it sounded, he felt the same way.

  How wonderful was that?

  Afternoon sun streaked through the gaps in the pale curtains, lending an unearthly quality to us and our surroundings. We undressed each other slowly, carefully, taking our sweet time in removing each other's shirts, and then the shorts in my case, and the jeans in his. Soon, we were wearing nothing at all.

  Gently, almost reverently, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. Already, I was slick and ready. And as for his readiness? I felt it pressing hard against my pelvis as we lay there, still and silent, like two lovers about to take a vow.

  He was my lover. And he was my friend. And, in the most unexpected way, he'd become the family that I'd been longing for.

  Someday, I hoped we'd be adding to that family, filling the house with all the love and laughter that had been missing for far too long.

  When he entered me at last, I felt a surge of such love and devotion, I almost wanted to cry. But I didn't. I was
way too happy, even for that.

  Side-by-side, and wrapped in that blissful embrace, we moved against each other, making his hardness surge and dance inside me, as we ran our hands along each other's backs, through each other's hair, and down each other's sides.

  It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever experienced – from the sweet beginning to the wonderful end, when we reached that lofty peak and tumbled over, with words of love and the unspoken promise of forever.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a hazy blur of sweetness and love, and even some unpacking, when we could spare the time. When dawn broke, we were still awake.

  It felt like the beginning of a wonderful future. And maybe it would've been, if only a mistake from the past hadn't come crashing in at the worst possible time.

  Chapter 66

  Cassie was laughing. "Oh, my God. And you still showed up for work?"

  While helping her decorate a fresh batch of sugar cookies, I'd told her how Joel and I had stayed up literally until sunrise working on the guest house and studio.

  It was still early morning, and I hadn't slept at all. I should've been exhausted, but I'd never felt more alive.

  I said, "Oh, please. Like I'd leave you hanging, just because we lost track of the time?"

  "Lost track, huh?" She gave me a sly look. "So that's what they're calling it?"

  I felt that telltale heat rising to my face. Obviously, Cassie had figured out that work wasn't the only thing that had kept us from sleep.

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, shush."

  I went on to tell her how, after my morning shift, I'd be driving to Chicago to sign the official papers for all of this year's art endowments, including Joel's.

  She said, "Why Chicago?"

  "Well, that's where Claude is, remember?"

  "I know," she said. "But doesn't he normally come here?"

  "Sure, normally. But with Joel at the house, I asked Claude if we could do it there instead."

  "But why?" Cassie asked. "That's a three-hour drive."

  "Yeah, but it'll be so worth it. Tomorrow, Aunt Gina's coming to town, and I have this big surprise thing planned for Joel." I smiled. "It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he was there when I signed the papers."