by Marie Meyer
“I didn’t want those unpacked and when I saw them…”
“I know,” I whispered, brushing my fingers over her pink cheeks.
“You wouldn’t let me go until I stopped crying.”
“You cried so much back then. I wanted to help, but I was…” I exhaled.
“You were only sixteen years old,” she countered. “You were just a kid, too. I don’t know many sixteen-year-old boys who would have put up with a broken teenage girl.”
God. How do I convey to this woman how much she’s always meant to me? I pulled her onto my lap. “You weren’t just some broken teenage girl. You were my girl. The girl I promised to make happy when she was sad.” I squeezed her tightly. She was the girl who inspired me to be better…to follow my dreams. “I tried to make you happy, but I failed miserably.”
“Griffin, why are we talking about this? Can’t I just open the gift?”
I shook my head. “Hear me out, please. I’ve got a point, I promise.
“Before your parents died, you loved to take pictures. Especially with your mom and dad. But once they were gone, that little girl wouldn’t smile for the camera anymore. Anger and sadness wiped away the happiness of the little girl I used to play with when she’d visit her grandparents.” I took her shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “I want to see that happiness on your face again.” My eyes roamed over her face. “Open it.”
At first she didn’t move, just stared at the glittery paper I’d used. Then, very slowly, she began sliding her fingers to the edge. As she peeled back the paper, the two wooden frames came into view. She ran her fingers over the tattooed wood, spelling out the word “Promise.” Then her gaze focused on the picture inside the frame. It was of the two of us. Dad had taken the picture at her going-away party, the night before she left for school. I loved that picture. Her smile could set the world on fire.
She glanced up at me, her fingers still tracing the letters. “This is perfect.”
“Look at the other one.” I nodded to her lap.
She placed the top frame underneath, giving her full attention to the second. It was identical to the other, except for the engraved word. This one said “Forever.” “Promise” and “Forever”…our words. “This one’s empty?” She held it up.
“That one is for your parents.” I smoothed a hand over her head. “About a week ago, I went over to Jennifer’s house.”
“Wha—”
I held up my hand, cutting her off. “I knew those pictures I’d thrown in the drawer five years ago would probably still be there. I went to Jennifer’s and asked if I could look for them. Surprisingly, she let me. When I pulled the drawer open, it was empty. You had packed them up and brought them with you.” I smiled. “You kind of foiled my plan, but I was so happy that you were brave enough to bring them with you.”
She gave a little grunt. “Not that brave.” She pointed to the closet. “They’re still packed in there.”
I took both frames and laid them on the bed in front of us. Pointing to the one that said “Promise,” I said, “This is you and me. We have the promise of a happy future ahead of us.” Then I pointed to the empty frame that said “Forever.” “This one needs a picture of you and your parents. They’re a part of you, and are with you forever.”
Without a word Jillian launched herself off my lap. “Where are you going?” She hates them. I fucked up.
Jillian turned and walked to the closet. Bending down, she pulled a huge box out. I got off the bed to help her, but she put her hand up. “I got it,” she croaked.
I understood. This was something she had to do on her own. Giving her space, I sat back down and watched her pull the box over to the bed. She plopped beside me and we both stared at the box. “They’re in there.” I could tell she was on the verge of crying, her voice thick with unshed tears.
“Are you going to open it?”
She nodded.
I leaned behind her and pulled a pen off the desk. I handed her the pen. Wrapping her fingers around it, she poked it through the tape stretched across the flaps. She ran the pen down the seam, and the tape split in half, the flaps popping up. I put my hand on her leg. She wasn’t alone in this.
Jillian pulled the cardboard back and hesitantly reached into the box.
She pulled out a plain black frame. Inside, a little Jillian was sandwiched between her mom and dad. The smiles on their faces were beautiful and heartbreaking. I put my arm around her, and she looked up at me with so much love, I feared my heart would stop.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I helped Jillian exchange the old frame for the new one. She got up from the bed and set them side by side on her dresser.
I patted the bed. I needed her beside me. I scooted closer to the wall and opened my arms wide. She lay down next to me and my arms were around her in an instant. “You’re amazing,” I whispered in her ear. I also took the opportunity to press tiny kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her skin blazed against my mouth. Incendiary. Jillian shifted slightly and I took advantage, climbing on top of her. I pressed my body to hers.
Her breasts teased me, spilling over the top of the little shirt I’d put on her last night. Fuck, that is hot. I moved lower, wanting to taste a part of her that had been off-limits to me until now.
The moment my tongue plunged between her peaks, Jillian placed a hand under my chin, drawing my eyes back to her face. My shoulders heaved. I want to make love to her. I want to fuck her. I want to bury myself in her. I want to kiss her in places she’s never been kissed before. I want to devour her. I want…her.
“Griffin,” she exhaled, drawing me back to her lips. Does she know what I want? How much I want? She kissed me with a greedy, hungry passion. We were all teeth and tongues.
My hands slid over her waist, grabbing the stretchy material and bunching it between my fingers. I’d dressed her last night, but now it was in the fucking way.
Jillian pressed her hand against my fist, stopping me from ripping her shirt off. I looked at our folded hands lying on her stomach, and then back into her eyes. They burned darkly, the brown completely consumed by the fire between us. “Griffin,” she breathed again.
“What?” My chest heaved.
“Make love to me.” Her eyes held mine, begging for me to oblige.
She loosened her grip on my fingers and pushed my hands down the length of her torso. Beneath me she bunched the white tank top in her fingers and pulled it over her head.
I loved this woman. “Jillian…,” I whispered. I held her eyes, wanting to bask in the glory of her almost-naked body, but I was scared to. Is she ready for this?
She rose, supporting her weight on her elbows. Our faces millimeters apart. “I want this.” She flattened her palm against my chest. “I want you,” she demanded.
I moved my hand down her flexed arm, giving her a little push. She fell back onto the pillow.
With each inhalation her breasts swelled over the cups of her bra. My eyes traversed the hills and valleys of her lithe body, zeroing in on the white scars. Countless slashes covered her torso. In my hands she was a broken china doll. Though time had glued her back together, the cracks were still visible. Each fissure was a reminder of my failure. Why didn’t I catch her when she fell? I could have saved her from all that pain…all those cracks.
“Griffin,” she whispered.
My eyes left her skin. “Bean…” My hands slid from one crack in her skin to the next, counting how many times I’d let her down. I didn’t deserve her. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered quietly.
“Sorry?” A look resembling fear washed over her face. “Why are you sorry?”
So pissed at myself, I sat up and whipped my shirt off, throwing it across the room. Jillian flinched beneath me. I caught my right bicep in a white-knuckled grip with my left hand. I pressed five fingers into my skin, wanting to inflict even the smallest amount of pain on myself. I’d let her down. I’d broken my pr
omise to her. I deserved to feel pain.
“Griffin?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
She pushed against me, trying to wriggle her way out from underneath me. “Let me up,” she demanded. “Damn it, Griffin! Let me up.” She clenched her teeth and beat on my chest with her fists.
I snapped back to reality, refocusing my eyes on hers. “Jillian, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she grunted, trying to push me way. “Just let me up.”
Immediately I rolled off her, my back hitting the wall with a thud.
Beside me Jillian frantically searched for her shirt, holding an arm over her chest. Once she’d located her tank top, she put it on and fell onto Sarah’s bed.
“Jillian?” I spoke quietly. I didn’t know what had elicited her reaction. Why she felt the need to put distance between us…I loathed distance. Whether it was hundreds of miles, or just a couple of feet, Jillian belonged in my arms.
I got up and joined her on Sarah’s bed, pressing her back to my front. I smoothed away some strands of her rainbow hair, the ones that stuck to my face. “Bean?” I whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry.”
“I get it, Griffin, you don’t have to explain. How I ever expected another person to want me…I’ll never know,” she choked.
What? She thinks I don’t want her? This crazy talk ends now.
I gripped her shoulder and forced her to roll over. “You think that’s what I’m sorry about? Jillian Helene Lawson,” I scolded, cocking my head to the side. “Come on, you know me better than that.” My eyes searched her face. Her eyes were glassy, and I could see the sting of rejection reddening her cheeks. “Do you remember when I got this?” I pointed to the scripture binding my arm.
“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “Junior year.”
I nodded. “I got this right after I found out what you were doing to yourself. I hated the fact that I couldn’t take your pain away.” I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand. “I felt powerless. There was nothing I could do to help you, and I hated that. My own powerlessness made me sick. I was your best friend, and I couldn’t save you.”
She shook her head. “Nobody could, Griffin. The voices in my head were so much easier to believe—their lies so much more convincing than the truth.”
“When I got this tattoo, I made a promise to myself and to you. I would always protect you, always trust you, always hope for you, and always persevere for you.” Each time I spoke, I pointed to the matching phrase on my arm, driving home the point. “This is what love means to me. That’s why I got this, a physical reminder that I would never give up on you…or us.”
“What about this?” She touched the words “Never fails”—the ones I hadn’t mentioned.
I looked her in the eyes. “To remind me that failure wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t ever stop trying.” I hoped she knew how serious I was. “Jillian, I had no idea. I didn’t know how much you were hurting. Each one of those scars represents a time that I didn’t protect you.” I pointed to my tattoo again. “I feel like I failed you. Something love isn’t supposed to do.”
Her features softened. “Griffin.” She kissed me gently. “You couldn’t have saved me. I had to do that myself. But if you hadn’t been by my side through all of that, I wouldn’t have survived. You didn’t fail me. You found me dying on the bathroom floor. You forced me to get help even when I didn’t want to. You took whatever wrath I unleashed on you and willingly stood by my side. I’m here, wrapped in your arms…because of your love for me. I don’t deserve it, but for some reason you think I do.” She blinked and a small tear rolled down her cheek.
My fingers lingered at her waist until I couldn’t take it anymore. A need so fierce ripped through me, I had to show her how desirable she was. But before I had the chance to act, Jillian pulled her shirt off, pushed me onto my back, and straddled me.
Whoa.
Air rushed from my lungs. I drank in her body, admiring every part of her. I traced the scars. She shivered under my touch. “Jillian,” I said, “I promise I will always protect you.” I rose, bringing my lips to the scar just above her left breast. “I promise I will always love you.”
I kissed every scar, a symbol of my love and devotion to her.
She arched her back as I worked my way across her chest. “Make love to me…please,” she begged.
I flipped us over, resting my weight on top of her. “I want nothing more than to make love with you, Jillian. But, when I do make love with you, I plan to hold you hostage in bed for several days. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have to leave your side. Our first time will be perfect.” I dropped my mouth on hers before she begged again. If she pleaded again, I wouldn’t be able to say no.
“I promise,” I whispered into her mouth.
Chapter Thirty-Five
By the time I got back from Rhode Island, I barely had time to piss. The next two months were chock-full of rehearsals, appearances, interviews, photo shoots, gigs, and anything else that would boost record and merch sales while we were on the road.
I was thankful for the distraction. There were 102 days separating Jillian and me. If I didn’t stay busy, I’d lose my mind. And for this very reason, I didn’t mind that Thor was knocking on my door at five thirty in the morning.
“Yeah?” I lifted my head and stared at the closed door. I’d gotten in late and hadn’t slept worth a damn.
“Up and at ’em, bro. Interview with Rock Review in an hour.” He pounded my door with his fist, then clomped into the bathroom, shutting the door.
My head hit the pillow. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then growled. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I threw my body into a sitting position. “I’m up.”
I had a feeling the next 102 days would be marked by the small victories, each of them bringing Jillian one step closer to home.
Showered and dressed, Thor and I made record time into the city. We were meeting Pauly, Adam, and the journalist from Rock Review at the Lounge in Ballpark Village.
Thor parked his Charger in one of the garages near the stadium and we hoofed it to BPV. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “So.” he blew out a puff of smoke. “Jill won’t be back until May?”
I turned to glare at him. Way to rub salt in the wound, dick. I pulled the collar of my leather jacket closed and nodded. “Yep.”
“Harsh.”
I kept quiet. I didn’t want to talk about it. I needed to stay focused on my distractions.
* * *
“So, guys.” The reporter leaned in and smiled. I stared at her cherry-red lips. It was hard not to, they were like a bull’s-eye in the center of her coffee-colored face. “Any significant others?” Her voice squeaked at the end of her question.
We glanced at each other. I knew Thor wasn’t about to bring up Harper, and there was no way in hell I wanted to complicate Jillian’s life by having her name plastered everywhere. And I was fairly certain Pauly and Adam weren’t seeing anyone exclusively. I spoke up for all of us. “We’d prefer to keep our personal lives private.”
She frowned. “That’s too bad. There are hundreds of ladies out there that would like to know if they’ve got a chance.”
Jesus. What happened to focusing on the music?
Pauly raised his hand, flashing her a smile from beneath his dark beard. “I don’t know about these fuckers, but I’m always willing to give the ladies a chance.”
The reporter, I forgot her name, scribbled and clicked furiously on her tablet. “Perfect. Perfect,” she sang.
Pauly sat back and stroked his beard, eagerly anticipating the onslaught of female attention.
Her eyes flicked back to us. “Well, boys, I think I’ve got enough.” She rested her palms flat against the table and smiled. “I’ll let you know when it goes to print.”
She stood, and we all stood after.
“It was so nice to meet you. I love the album.” She offered her hand to me with a kind smile. I shook it gently before she went on to Thor, Adam, and Pau
ly.
“Thank you,” I said. “It was our pleasure.”
She gathered her things and shouldered her purse. “You guys are going to be huge.” With a wink she turned on her heel and made her way to the exit.
Adam punched Pauly in the shoulder. “Ow,” he howled. “What was that for?”
“You don’t say that kind of shit to a reporter. Even I know that.”
Adam had a point.
Pauly lifted his chin. “I know those two don’t want the publicity. But”—he looked at Adam—“you’ll be begging for me to share the wealth.”
“Well, yeah,” he agreed.
“Dude,” I broke in. “From here on out, we’ve got to keep interviews strictly business. We want people to take us seriously, it’s got to be about the music.”
“Griff’s right,” Thor said to both Pauly and Adam. “Stop thinking with your dicks.”
Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair. “Look, it’s done. Let’s just agree that interviews from here on out will be about the music.”
Pauly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”
I longed for the early days. When it really had been about the music. “Rehearsal later,” I called over my shoulder, as I walked to the exit.
* * *
January and February were gone faster than one of Pauly’s one-night stands. Tour prep had been insane, but now everything was ready. Our flights were booked and we headed to Cozumel tomorrow. Our three-week, ten-city tour kicked off there, then we hit the road: Playa del Carmen, Cancún, South Padre Island, Dallas…The list went on and on.
Adam and Pauly were hitting the bars tonight, Thor was hanging with Harper, and I opted to stay in, hoping to catch Jillian. We’d had so little time for each other.
Reclining in my favorite chair, I hit the FaceTime app and Jillian’s number. My iPad gave a high-pitched chirp, waiting for Jillian to connect the call.
Then her face filled the screen.