by B. Cranford
She was terrified. Of him? Of them?
What just happened was the least of his questions.
“She’s gone?” Brighton stepped through the front door, a look of concern stamped all over her face.
Declan nodded, wondering what had gone down in the house where Brighton and Jade had been talking. Celebrating, he’d thought, the news that their friends were going to become parents. “Are you okay, Bright?”
Sebastian wrapped arm around the back of his girl, smiling sadly down at her when she gazed up at him. “Bright Star?”
“I’m fine. Worried about her, is all.” She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure if she should. “I love her. But I don’t know everything about her still. Yet. She’s not—” She stopped talking abruptly when the stolen Mustang came back into sight, crawling back down the road in the direction of the house Brighton and Sebastian shared. “Dec, this is important, okay? She’s not as tough as she seems. She’s been hurt, and though I don’t know everything, I know her well enough to know she’s afraid. Please, please, if you’re not in this thing with her—whatever it is—don’t lead her on.”
Declan took in Brighton’s words, not so dissimilar to what Sebastian had said to him earlier on the phone. When he’d failed to mention that he was already back at his house with his girl and oh, a baby on the way.
He wanted to be able to joke with his friends. Tease them about being parents. About shitty diapers and endless crying—from the baby and from themselves—and spit up all over everything. But instead he just nodded, his words and good humor muted by the worry that whatever progress he’d made with Jade had been lost inside the storm that had clearly taken over her mind.
He was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly missed the distinct sound of his Mustang pulling into the drive and stopping a few minutes later.
She was back.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice carried through the night and reached where he stood. Brighton and Sebastian retreated inside, leaving the front door open in invitation. He looked down at where she stood at the base of the steps leading up to the porch and tried not to let his pain show in his face.
She looked like hell. Her pink hair was mussed like she’d been ripping her hands through it. Her hazel eyes were puffed up and rimmed red. Her nose and cheeks were flushed. And her beautiful pouty mouth was turned down, a heartbreaking frown that made her the most stunning girl in despair he’d ever seen.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t accept the apology. He didn’t need to—he wasn’t looking for her regret or remorse. He was looking for a way to help her.
“Yes. No. I don’t—I don’t know.” She shrugged, another one of the tears that had so ravaged her eyes sliding down her cheek. “I think I’m broken.”
“No.” He shook his head even as he spoke, knowing that this woman was the furthest thing from broken. “You came back, right away. To face whatever it is you’re afraid of. That’s not broken, Freckles. That’s brave.”
He watched as her chin trembled, her bottom lip shaking with the need to let loose more tears. “I’m scared.” She choked out the words, and Declan knew it was hard for her, for this woman who didn’t want anyone to know she was vulnerable, to admit her fears. But he still didn’t know what had happened. Or why. Or whether he could help her.
God, how he wanted to help her.
“Looking for a white knight, by any chance?” He kept his tone light, hoping that she’d understand that it was a serious offer couched as a playful aside.
He didn’t have a hero complex. Except when it came to her.
“Maybe. You know someone?” She took the two steps up to stand in front of him and stepped as close as she could without touching him. It wasn’t close enough, as far as Declan was concerned and he pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, both cheeks, her eyelids and finally, a soft kiss on that sexy, sad little mouth.
“I do,” he whispered, the importance of the words not lost on him. They weren’t getting married—not now and maybe not ever. They’d been official for about an hour, so it was way too soon to even consider, and still the words fell from his lips as if they were a promise of something more than filling the role of hero. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Jade shook her pink head from side to side, warding off his question, denying him the information he so sorely wanted. Needed. “I can’t. Not”—a pause, followed by a deep sigh, as if she was gathering herself for a battle—“not yet.”
Declan didn’t want to fight with her in that moment. Everything had changed—from the combative nature of their relationship to the shaking, troubled woman fighting back against herself—since he’d seen her sitting on that curb, soaking wet and waiting for him.
Fuck what she thinks. She was waiting for me. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Soon then?” He might not want to push at that moment, but that wasn’t going to stop him from knowing her better, from getting to the bottom of what was happening inside her mind.
“Soon,” she confirmed, tightening her hold around his waist before stepping back from the circle of his arms. Then, with what looked like a fortifying breath, she smiled. It wasn’t the bright, overtaking smile that usually involved her entire freckled face—her lips and teeth, the crinkle at the bridge of her nose and the sparks firing in her hazel eyes—but it was a start. “Your car is really nice to drive, by the way.”
He laughed softly, not necessarily finding humor in her brief foray into grand theft auto, but relieved that she was able to make a joke about the turn the mood, her mood, had taken. “I think so, too. But, ah, perhaps next time, ask?”
She nodded and held out the keys, which he took and pocketed before grabbing her still outstretched hand and intertwining their fingers. “Let’s go in. You still owe me the rest of the night.”
Jade stood at the threshold of the nursery, watching Brighton as she placed a worn, loved copy of Fox in Socks on top of the combined dresser/change table. “Brighton?”
Her friend spun around, the look on her face not of anger, like Jade so deserved, but of relief. “Jay.” Brighton didn’t say anything else, instead walked over to stand in front of Jade and, with all the softness that she possessed, the kindness that was just so Brighton, she pressed a light kiss on Jade’s forehead, pulling back so Jade could see the care, the forgiveness in her eyes.
They stood together and let the moment wash over them, Jade’s apologies in the silence, Brighton’s acceptance that something Jade couldn’t control had taken her over. From down the hall, Sebastian’s voice broke the moment as he called both girls into the lounge room to play a game, something both Brighton and Sebastian loved—despite their famously competitive natures.
“I love you.” Jade knew her words were barely audible, but she was having trouble coping with the intensity of the last half-hour. “I am excited for you. And that baby is so lucky.”
“Of course, they’ll have you for their aunt and Godmother.” Brighton asked the question hidden in her announcement of Jade’s role in her baby’s life, receiving her answer in the form of a teary-eyed nod and small laugh, before adding, “Declan will be Godfather.”
“I figured as much, but I . . .” Jade trailed off, trying to piece together this night. It had started so long ago; in her apartment, dressed and ready for her first date with a man she’d have sworn she hated but for the fact that, well, she didn’t hate him at all. And now here she was, recovering from a panic attack at the thought of being left behind again, being asked to become an even more important part of her friend’s life. “I didn’t expect you to ask me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend. My girlfriend,” she emphasized, the mischievous look Jade recognized from all the times they’d played their little game at the bar. But as fast as the look appeared, it disappeared. Seriousness coated Brighton’s face, sobered her green eyes. “You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re smart. You listen. You make me laugh. You organize Seba
stian.” The smirk came back to her face as she added, “And your hair is cool as shit. Baby is going to love you more than it loves me.”
Jade was still trying to work out how to respond when Declan came into the room where the two women stood and wrapped his big arms around them both. “The game is ready. The orchid and vodka hidden from Sebastian’s reach—”
Brighton interrupted him with a snort, no doubt remembering the infamous Yahtzee incident that she’d recounted to Jade more than once, where he’d watered Brighton’s precious plant with her favorite brand of vodka.
Apparently, competitive Sebastian could get slightly dramatic when things weren’t going his way, and not even flowers and booze stood a chance against him.
Declan gave Brighton an amused look before continuing, “And the popcorn is popped. We just need you two to get your fine asses out there.”
Brighton slapped an arm over Declan’s chest. “You can’t talk to me like that anymore. I’m going to be someone’s mother.”
“Someone’s fine as hell mother, Bright. It’s a fact of life, I’m afraid.”
Jade had to agree. She’d thought—still thought—Brighton one of the most beautiful women she’d met when Brighton walked into the Figures Accounting office the first time, and now that she knew her, really knew her, she thought her all the more stunning. Beauty came from the inside, after all. “It is fact. I’d do you.”
Declan’s eyes widened at Jade’s casualness. Her sexuality wasn’t a secret and jokes like that one, that for most would be a throwaway line, tended to confuse people. She could tell he wanted to respond, probably say something inappropriate, because Declan was nothing if not a master at corny lines and innuendo.
“You can say it,” she told him, laughing at the way the words rushed out of his mouth once permission was given.
“I’d watch the fuck out of that.”
“Aaaaaand on that note.” Brighton stepped out of Declan’s arms and made her way to the door. Jade looked up at Declan, the little bit of lightness, of happiness that had returned since she’d stopped, taken several deep breaths and turned the Mustang around, spread across her skin. Because of him.
Because he hadn’t judged her for her lapse.
Because he hadn’t yelled at her for stealing his car.
Because he hadn’t shut her out when she returned or worse, pushed and pushed until she broke again.
Because he was the non-jackassiest jackass she’d ever met, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated that about him. “Thanks, Jackass.”
“Anytime, Freckles.”
“You were a really good-looking kid, Dec.” Jade sat cross-legged in the center of the guest room bed she’d been using while pet-sitting Lowe and Storm. Brighton had insisted they stay; their game night had seen them both drink too much to safely get behind the wheel. Declan smiled over at her, enjoying how comfortable she seemed with him after just a couple of hours of games and drinks and fun with their friends.
So different from the woman who earlier had kinda-sorta-totally committed a felony before having a change of heart. “You say that like I’m not still good-looking.” He added some extra arrogance to his tone, because he knew she’d enjoy it. And yeah, because he knew he was handsome. He’d been told. A lot.
But not by her.
Her response was a snort and an eye roll. It wasn’t quite the verbal confirmation he’d been hoping for but at least she didn’t try to deny it. “Who’s that?” She turned the image enough that he could see it too, but before he could tell her, she answered her own question. “Oh my God, that’s Sebastian.”
“That was about three, maybe four weeks after we first met.”
“I can’t imagine knowing anyone that long. Well, ‘cept my sisters.” She looked thoughtful, then a little sad. “You have to know everything about him.”
I didn’t know he was gambling. He didn’t say it, though he thought it. Jade knew Brighton and Sebastian’s story; she knew what his friend had done, what he’d put Brighton through. There was no point in going over it again. “Most everything,” he offered instead.
“What else is in here?” She had the box he’d brought from his apartment open in front of her. Declan had brought it into the house earlier—which was relative, since they didn’t start the festivities until well after 11 pm and it was nearly 2 am when they’d finally decided to share the guest bed. “You’re a Tar Heel?”
He looked over at her holding up his University of North Carolina acceptance letter, but instead of focusing on the piece of paper in her hands, he took in her legs, covered in a pair of fluffy socks, her body, hidden beneath a very loose, very worn looking T-shirt and her eyes, those eyes that had told him earlier she was hurting and told him now she was intrigued. “Much to my father’s displeasure, I am.”
“I totally would have picked, I don’t know. Duke. Maybe. Or, like, one of those hoity-toity schools.”
He laughed at the way she said hoity-toity, an expression he didn’t often hear, but appreciated when she laced it with so much sass. “Well, if I did what my father wanted and expected, then I would have been at one.”
“Hmm, interesting.” She placed the letter back in the box and shuffled some things around. He’d brought it along in the hopes that it would show her that he was just a regular guy, who wanted another date or six or fifty with an extraordinary, pink-haired spitfire. All his best memories were in that box and, as he watched a yawn stretch across Jade’s face—her eyes closing, her mouth opening wide, her hand raising up to cover it—he suddenly felt like he needed a memento of this moment.
“I want to take a picture,” he said softly, not thinking about how the words might sound to a woman who was still working on trust. “Just . . .”
“Just what? Like, what exactly are you wanting a picture of?” She closed the lid and slid the box to the edge of the bed, but otherwise remained where she sat. Her head tilted to the side as she waited for an answer.
“You. Like that.” God, he was turning into a sap. He wanted to give himself a slap or a good, manly punch, but instead he moved closer to the bed. To Jade.
She looked down at herself, as if questioning why, given what he was seeing, but he didn’t give her a chance to second-guess him, or deny him. The photo op was long forgotten, anyway, as he placed a knee on the bed beside her and leaned in close, pressing a kiss to her rapidly-flushing cheekbone.
“Declan?” Her voice wavered as she used his name to ask a question. What are you doing?
“I’m not stopping this time,” he promised as his lips moved from one cheek, over her freckled nose and to the other. He was filled with a need to kiss every single freckle on her beautiful face, and added it to his to-do list. There were so many it could take him years, but that prospect didn’t bother him.
He relished it.
“Unless you ask me to, unless you tell me no, I’m not stopping this time.” He kept his lips moving gently over her warm, soft skin and felt the movement as her mouth pulled into a smile.
“Don’t stop.”
The feel of Declan’s lips on her skin was making her knees tremble, her legs shake. Jell-O. It was turning her into Jell-O. Who knew a man could have such soft lips? Jade had experienced lots of lips over the years—male and female. And though Declan’s were very much masculine, the hint of stubble peeking through after a long day and longer night, they felt unlike any other man’s she’d had on her.
They felt so much better.
She fell back on the bed, pulling Declan with her, and straightening her legs until she was stretched out underneath him. She didn’t move otherwise, just lay back and enjoyed the way he tended to her, kissed her with a reverence she’d never felt.
I could lie right here forever, she thought, trying to push away the other voices that wanted to scare her into stopping. That wanted her to know that Declan’s affection was temporary, fleeting and could be yanked at any time. In any manner of cruel ways.
But there wasn’t roo
m for those demons in this bed they were sharing. They’d tried so hard to ruin this night already and she’d beaten them back as best she could. With the help of Brighton and Sebastian and Declan, she’d smiled and laughed and had fun.
And now, there was a different kind of fun on the agenda.
“Want you,” Declan murmured in her ear, his tongue tracing the shell before taking her pierced lobe in his mouth. Jade couldn’t have stopped the wanton moan that escaped her at that moment if she’d wanted to. “Need you.”
She nodded, over and over, unable to find the words, but determined to show him with her body that she wanted and needed him right back. Jade’s hands finally moved into action, coming between them to begin working on the buttons of Declan’s shirt. His legs, which had come astride her when she’d fallen back on the mattress, stretched out along and above hers, and in the background, Jade heard the bump and crash of Declan’s box of memories falling to the floor.
She raised her head, but Declan shook his and used her heightened position to bring their lips together in a kiss that was searing.
Jade felt it burn into every part of her body. He branded her with that kiss, with his soft lips pressing firmer and firmer against her, his five o’clock shadow abrading her skin just enough to feel good, but not hurt. His tongue swept across her lips and she opened easily, happily to him, enjoying the taste of him in her mouth.
It had been so long since their first kiss. And it hadn’t felt like this.
It had been angry. Almost punishing, though whether she had been punishing him or he’d been punishing her, she couldn’t say. It had been laced with weeks of bitter retorts and name calling, and though hot—there was no denying that—it paled in comparison to this kiss.
This kiss was one she’d replay in her head over and over and over again when she was alone. When he was gone from her life and all she had was echoes of moments shared.