by Jewel E. Ann
She nodded. “But I’m not.” A painful laugh broke from her chest. “He didn’t ask me … and I don’t think he will.”
Jackson kissed the top of her head. “He’s a fool.”
Resting her forehead on his sternum, she nodded. “Tell me a story, like a Sesame Street story.”
“Pfft … none of that.” He retreated to the kitchen, stealing another juice box from the refrigerator. “Ryn agreed to marry me.”
“Peachy.” Jillian hopped up on the counter and took the juice box Jackson offered. “When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t set a date yet. I think I should ask her father first.”
“Good call. She give you her virginity yet?”
A small smirk grew around his straw. “She has a daughter—twenty-one.”
“You should ask for her permission as well. I’m guessing it’s proper etiquette. Though she won’t give it to you.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s going to be pissed that her ‘old’ mom is marrying a guy that she wants to nail.”
Jackson tossed the box in the trash and grabbed a Red Bull to wash down the juice. “I’m pretty sure a woman can’t actually ‘nail’ a guy—not the right equipment. I can’t believe you sold enough Lascivio crap to win a car. You’re clearly not the sexpert everyone thinks you are.”
“Whatever. So how did it happen?”
“The proposal?”
“Yes. Did you get down on one knee and all that jazz?”
“Nope. I gave her the option of marriage or meaningless sex. She thought about it for a while and chose marriage. I think it was a good choice. But I also think it’s going to be a while before we have sex. For some reason she feels the need to ‘prepare’ herself. What do you think that means?”
Jillian giggled. “I’m not sure. She’s pushed a baby out of her vagina so accommodating your wee little penis shouldn’t be the issue.”
That earned her an exaggerated eye roll.
“Maybe…” she held up her index finger “…she doesn’t think that’s the hole you’re going to use.”
“Really? You think she’s preparing herself for anal sex with me?”
“No, not really.” She returned the same eye roll. “I think you make her completely self-conscious. She probably has a bit of overgrowth.”
“Pubic hair?”
“Maybe.”
“Huh … maybe I should tell her I’ve had sex with women who have pubic hair and it’s no big deal.”
They both laughed.
“Yes, there might even be an e-card that says that. No sense in beating around the bush.”
“Good morning.”
Jillian hopped off the counter.
“Hey, Brooke.”
Jackson gave her a half-smile and went to his room.
“He didn’t have to leave … unless you two were talking about me?”
“No.” Jillian laughed. “Unless you have pubic hair.”
An uneasy smile tugged at Brooke’s mouth. “I … I have some.”
Jillian’s smile doubled. It wasn’t a question and the fact that Brooke shared that personal bit of information with her was too hard to take seriously. “A landing patch?”
“Huh?”
Jillian shook her head. “Never mind. So how’d you sleep?”
Brooke shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Honestly, not so good. I can’t stop thinking about Cage. He’s not going to take the news about AJ very well. He idolizes his dad. That’s why he’s here. Cage couldn’t wait to graduate high school so he could move closer to AJ.”
“Then I’m even more surprised AJ’s parents want him to move to Portland and leave Cage behind.”
Brooke gave Jillian an uneasy look. “Cage is one of the reasons they want him to come to Portland. They don’t want him feeling the burden of being pulled between football, school, and AJ’s treatment. And …”
“And?”
Brooke released a heavy breath. “Jim’s worried that AJ could do something.”
“Something?”
A single nod. “He thinks AJ could become suicidal if or when things get bad.”
Every ounce of her wanted to refute what Brooke said, but she couldn’t. Of course AJ would rather die than live in misery or be a burden to anyone around him. Jillian would have been the same way.
The dense silence weighed heavily in the room.
“So, anyway, are you joining us at Lilith’s for tea and coffee in a little bit?”
“I have something I need to do before we leave for the game later.”
Brooke nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you a little later then.”
Jillian’s mouth pulled into a tight smile.
*
Dark, full clouds stretched for miles. Mother Nature painted the sky to match the mood. Perhaps it was to give the Monaghan family permission to feel sad. So much sadness.
“Jillian.” Jim answered the door. “I assumed you’d be having coffee with the ladies.”
“Not this morning. Is AJ here?”
“He’s still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Char said he was awake most of the night. Migraine.”
She frowned. Guilt for not being there seeped into her conscience.
“I’ll tell him you stopped by when he wakes.”
There was no need. Jim didn’t know Jillian and since he said she should leave, then he most certainly didn’t understand her relationship with his son.
“Actually, I’m going to peek in on him.” She stepped past him, not waiting for his approval.
“I’m not sure that’s the best id—”
“It’s fine. You should go see if Dodge needs an excuse to leave the hen house.”
“Well, okay … I guess.”
“Bye, Jim.” She waved without another look back.
The room was black, trapped in silence until Jillian gently shut the bedroom door behind her. Breathing in a shaky breath, she slipped off her boots and clothes, then slid under the sheet.
AJ didn’t move. Pressing her lips to his shoulder, she waited to feel his heart … waited to feel his next breath. His chest rose and fell in a long, relaxed breath, and she sighed.
“I’d take it from you if I could. You have so much more to live for than I do,” she whispered, resting her hand against the side of his head as he continued to sleep. “I forgive you.” Uninvited tears stung her eyes. “I know you’re going to leave me.” She bit her upper lip, hard. “It’s okay to go. They need you more.”
Maybe someday it would be okay for her to need someone more than anyone else. Then again, maybe she was the ultimate survivor and needed no one. Who could live like that?
“What if I need you more?” AJ whispered, startling Jillian.
Resting her cheek on his back, she snaked her arms around his waist. He grabbed her hands and squeezed them, wringing the tears from her eyes—the life from her soul.
“Then I’m the luckiest woman alive. And I know I am … but not because you’re going to stay. It’s because I’ve had the privilege of loving a man that’s going to be completely selfless and go home for all the right reasons.”
“I have season tickets to Cage’s games. I want you to go to them … all of them.”
She squeezed his hands back. So. Very. Tight. “K.”
“And I want you to make sure he stays out of trouble. I know that’s a tall order for you.”
Jillian smiled.
“When?”
“When?” he questioned.
“When are you leaving?”
His chest expanded slowly. He inhaled a deep breath, the kind that gave one courage. “I’m going back with them tomorrow.”
She held her breath. She held everything completely together—absolutely still.
“Jillian?”
“Hmm?”
He rolled over and pulled her into his arms. The desperation in their embrace crushed something inside her. Something that could never be repaired.
“I need yo
u to be okay with this. You are the strongest person I have ever met, and I’ve met some really strong people. If you can’t do this, I won’t be able to either.”
That strength he referred to had become her greatest weakness. A burden—a curse.
“Tell me you’ll be okay.”
A little girl’s voice—the one she heard when Claire died, the one that wept for her parents, and the one that whispered goodbye to her heart in argyle socks—it screamed so loud.
I’m not okay. I’m not strong. I’m not anything you think I am!
“I’ll be okay,” she whispered.
*
Cage James Monaghan came into the world at six fifty-five in the evening on August third. It was the only time Brooke had seen AJ cry. He held his son in his arms and promised to give him everything.
AJ added father to his list of failures in life, but Cage never did. While he loved his mother, he wanted to be with his father the hero. It was bittersweet trying to live up to the rock star status Cage had bestowed upon him. The gifted son of the fucked-up war veteran grew up to be a good man, a hard working student, and an amazing quarterback. All despite AJ’s influence.
The packed stadium roared to life as the sun made a brief appearance to say everything would be okay. Cage would be okay.
AJ didn’t keep track of the score. He watched his boy light up the field, his ex-wife cheer on their son, his parents beam with pride every time Cage completed a pass, and the deflated woman who took so much more than he ever imagined he had to give.
Jillian clapped when the crowd clapped and stared at the field the entire time. He heard her every word that morning. Felt the depths of her grief—saw the vacant look in her eyes. Every day he saw deeper into her heart … into her past. In such a short amount of time the things he hated most about her turned into the things he couldn’t imagine living without.
If she ever stopped getting the mail in her boots and panties, it would be the greatest crime ever at Peaceful Woods. The sex toy consultant with a Harley—that was Jillian. That was the woman he loved. That was the woman he fucked like his life depended on it. Somehow he knew the last image he would ever have would be of her.
“Good game, huh?” His dad rested a firm hand on AJ’s shoulder as the team walked off the field, celebrating their first victory.
AJ nodded. The time came for him to rob all of that happiness from Cage, tearing his world apart before saying goodbye, forever.
Everyone met up for dinner. The bar and grill bulged to capacity with rowdy victory partying. AJ didn’t rush anything. He gave his family time to share a meal, laugh, and celebrate. After the last bite, final beer, and check paid, his parents went home with Brooke’s husband, their girls, and Jillian. AJ and Brooke drove back to Cage’s place, and they ended his world as he knew it. Their two-hundred pound grown son sobbed like a little boy in his daddy’s arms. A Band-Aid, kiss, and sucker couldn’t fix it. Nothing could fix the ugliest part of life that knocked on AJ’s door.
Cage promised to come visit the first weekend he had off. He also promised AJ that he wasn’t dying. His son held the same optimism Char and Brooke clung to. That he could have. AJ wouldn’t take that from any of them. After all, what’s left when all hope is gone?
*
Jillian. That’s who remained when all hope faded into darkness. After the drive home with Brooke, he took a long shower. He closed his eyes and let his tears mix with the water and soap that he massaged through his hair. He cried for the boy who loved him so unconditionally, the father to the grandchildren he would never meet, the man who would do things so much bigger, so much better than AJ ever could.
“I’m so … very … sorry.”
He knew she’d come. She was his real. The keeper of his past. The defender of his honor. The breath he needed to get to the next one.
“Why?” His voice broke as he turned and fell to his knees at her feet.
She ran her hands through his hair as he hugged her waist. “I’ve had too many opportunities to contemplate death. I think it’s different for everyone, but for me … when my time comes, I won’t ask any questions. I’ll simply say thank you.” Her words fell upon him, soft and steady.
He looked up at her and after a long moment, he nodded. Then he dried them off and led her to his bedroom.
“Jill—”
She pressed her finger to his lips as he sat on the bed before her. “Show me.”
He nodded again and then he showed her. When he filled her, he rushed nothing. There was no hurry. All they had was now. Their hands caressed for a final lasting memory. Their lips said goodbye over and over. Their tears released the anger … the unfairness of it all. Then with a final thrust, he spilled into her with an angry grunt. The kind that said fuck you world. Fuck you cancer. Fuck you PTSD.
He fell asleep in her arms and woke beside a note.
Thank you. ~J
“Good bye, Jillian Knight,” he whispered, folding the note.
Chapter Twelve
It rained for almost forty-eight hours straight, a few weeks too late for the brown lawns and cracked fields to make a comeback with fall just over the horizon. Even the residents of Peaceful Woods agreed to stop watering the lawns and simply succumb to the inevitable.
Ryn received a message from AJ that he no longer needed her services. He thanked her for all the years she worked for him and promised to write her a glowing recommendation to keep on file for future clients. She didn’t call him back. The message was brief, melancholy, and a little haunting. The For Sale sign in his yard explained the termination of services, but it took her by surprise, given his relationship with Jillian.
After a mad dash in the rain to the Knight’s front door, she paused to take a few deep breaths. She hadn’t seen or talked to Jackson since he took her home Friday night. She invited him in, but he insisted it wasn’t a good idea until she took care of the needed “preparations.” Her face flushed every possible shade of red, and that’s when he kissed her—the complete opposite of a chaste kiss. It held so much promise, leaving no confusion as to his intentions … his plans for her.
It took a full twenty-four hours to wipe the smile off her face. In a moment of insanity, she trimmed her girly parts then shaved them bare for the first time ever. It certainly made her look younger—like ten—at least in the pubic region. Sadly, she failed to consider the side effects. The worst being red bumps and itching. Dogs with fleas didn’t scratch as much as she had been scratching down below. Lotion and body oil failed to provide relief. As long as she didn’t touch the area or rub against anything she was fine.
“Ryn.” Jackson dragged her name into two long syllables, like a jungle cat purring it.
“Mr. Knight.” She squeezed past him, making sure their bodies didn’t touch.
“Mr. Knight, huh?”
“Yes. I’m working … for you. It might be a good idea to keep things professional while I’m here.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.” He towered behind her, bending down to kiss the back of her neck.
A flush of heat spread along her skin in spite of the shiver his touch evoked. “So … why is AJ selling his place?”
“Because he’s dying.”
Ryn turned toward the scratchy voice. Jillian emerged from her bedroom resembling something like roadkill.
“Welcome back, Sis.”
She brushed past him, wearing her panties and a shrunken red tank top, hair matted to her blotchy face. Although they were siblings, it was still a little awkward for Ryn.
“What do you mean he’s dying?” she asked in a small voice.
Jillian opened the refrigerator door. Jackson looked at her with a mild frown before moving his focus back to Ryn.
“He has a cancerous tumor in his brain, so he’s moving back to Portland with his parents. Treatment doesn’t look promising.”
A sting of emotion pricked the corners of her eyes. Ryn rarely saw AJ, but there was something about being in his home around
his personal belongings that lent a sense of familiarity, a feeling that she knew him better than she really did.
“Jillian … I’m so sorry.” Ryn rested her hand on her chest, maybe to comfort her own heart, maybe because she felt the pain in Jillian’s.
Grabbing two things from the refrigerator Jillian placed them on the counter and stared at them: a bottle of Heineken and a juice box. Jackson opened the beer and dumped its contents down the drain. Jillian had no reaction. He inserted the bendy straw into the juice box and placed it in her hands.
“You’ve got this,” he said to her with a whisper of sympathy as he kissed the top of her head.
Ryn fell hard for Jackson, the way someone slips at the top of a steep hill and tumbles to the bottom, gaining speed and momentum the whole way down. She tried to stop it, but the force—his gravitational pull—was too strong. With each passing second her heart fell for that man … the one who loved his sister so completely.
Jillian looked at Ryn. A sad smile worked its way to her lips. “I’m going to pull it together soon, and then we’ll start planning the wedding.” She brushed past her with a zombie’s gait, straight to the bedroom and shut the door.
With wide eyes, she looked at Jackson.
“What?” He shrugged while biting back his shit-eating grin.
“You told her we’re getting married?”
“I may have mentioned it.”
“It’s a game, a-a ridiculous joke … some sort of twisted improv.” Her hands flailed in the air.
The dramatic emphasis to her point didn’t faze him. Narrowing his eyes, he rubbed his chin. “I’m sensing some sort of apprehension from you.”
“Apprehension? We’ve known each other for two seconds!”
“True.” He nodded. “But they’ve been the best two seconds of my life. I want more … more seconds with you.”
Flip flop. Head-over-heels. Tumbling down.
“I need to get to work, Mr. Knight.”
He killed her every time with his sexy grin. Backing her against the wall, he cradled her face and kissed her unconscious. Every time—a total blackout.
The white tape on the bridge of his black glasses came into focus first when she opened her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask … Why are your glasses taped together?”