by Teresa Hill
So this was the really hard part for him and Julie. The who-can-you-turn-to-when-life-turns-to-shit part. The stuff that really matters. And it probably wasn't right coming now, at the beginning of their relationship. If you could call a lifelong friendship, a couple of heartfelt conversations and two crazy nights together a relationship.
So no, this wasn't fair—not to her—and he knew life had never been fair to her.
But I need her.
Still not fair, he argued with himself.
But I need her.
So, he'd at least have to tell her exactly what she'd be getting into with him right now.
He got out of the car and approached the house. Music emanated from it in waves. Really horrid-sounding music, played abominably loud. He frowned and rang the bell on the off chance she could hear it.
Nothing happened.
The door wasn't locked, so he let himself inside.
"Julie?" he called out as he walked around the ground floor. No luck. He glanced out a window to the backyard, and there she was, raking leaves. He felt better just at the sight of her. Nervous, but better.
Zach stood there, drawing in her presence like a calming drug, the kind he'd feared someone would inject him with last night before he'd come here to lose himself in her. This was much, much better, being with her. He could breathe. No more counting in and out. The wide, tight band across his chest eased. His feet moved of their own accord, out the back door, across the yard, to her.
She caught sight of him when he was about ten feet away and stopped dead still, the rake in her hands, leaves dancing on the wind around her feet.
Her hair was loose and danced, too, in its own way. He remembered it spread out around her on the table the night before, and then he remembered it from that first night on the floor. He loved filling his hands with her hair, using it to anchor her to him.
He'd thought in those two nights that he'd lost himself completely in her, but looking back on them now, it seemed like something else. It seemed like he'd given up that damnable control of his, just for a few moments, and let the feelings take him completely. He'd reached for her, and she'd saved him.
That sounded a little better to him than Help me. But maybe he could say that to her. Save me. I'm drowning, and there's just no strength left inside me. He was weary, but hopeful.
She stood there, leaning on the handle of the rake, looking at him. He thought abruptly of how pretty all the colors were. The lazy blue of the sky and the puffed-up whiteness of the clouds. The fire of the light caught in her hair and the paleness of her skin. The wisps of color in the leaves in a pile at her feet and the ones dotting the trees behind her.
A gust of wind came up, and her pile of leaves rustled and skittered away. He thought all those pieces of himself he'd fought so long to hold together might be a lot like these leaves, fighting all efforts to contain them as the restless energy inside him became a howling wind determined to scatter them.
He was so glad she'd been there when everything started pouring out.
Where to start telling her all this, now that he was here? He just had so much to say.
"I meant to tell you last night," he finally said, "before I got distracted by the sight of you in that pretty gown—you know that thing you said about the first night we spent together not meaning anything?"
She nodded, looking a little bit scared.
"You were flat-out wrong, Julie. And last night... that was just delicious and perfect and... I need you so much."
He thought she'd smile in return, maybe say something smart or try to play it off as nothing. But she didn't do any of those things. Instead, she looked like she might cry.
He took one of her hands in his, leaned down and nudged the tip of her nose with his, his forehead pressed against hers. He closed his eyes and just took in the scent of her for a moment and listened to the wind and the leaves. The sun was warm on his skin.
With his other hand, he cupped her cheek, his thumb playing at the corner of her mouth, which he really wanted to taste.
They didn't have to talk right away, did they?
"I'm not engaged anymore," he said, his lips a breath away from hers.
"Oh?" She kept her head down, so he had to bend his to touch her. Her voice was low and a little shaky, her breath uneven, body humming with energy, like she might bolt at any second.
"You don't believe me?"
"I don't think you'd lie to me. Not ever. I just... You came straight from her to me?"
He nodded. He'd done exactly that.
"It's fast, Zach. Really fast."
"I know. And so we're absolutely clear about this, I'm not talking about just wanting you in bed with me—"
"Right. I thought you were talking about more than that." She stepped back, one hand on his chest, holding him away when he would have come after her. "Zach, I—"
"Because I want more than that, and you have a lot more to give a man than a few nights in bed," he insisted.
She wrinkled her brows and looked put out. "This thing you do where you read my mind... I don't like that. I really don't want anyone seeing inside me that way."
"I let you see inside me," he said. "Those two nights... I was more honest with you than I'd been with anyone in years."
"Don't do this, Zach," she said, choked up and frowning.
"What do you mean, don't do this?"
"Not unless you mean it."
"I mean it," he said.
She swore and let her head fall back so she could stare up into the sky.
"I need you, Julie."
"You need me? Why? It's never been that way for us. It's always been me needing you, and that worked really well, but if you need me, I'm worried you're going to come out on the short end of this deal, and that I'll... well, that I won't measure up."
Her chin came up defiantly on the last words, as if she were proud of herself for getting them out, as if the honesty had cost her a great deal, and she was daring him to disagree with her.
" I don't want to hurt you," she said. "Or disappoint you. I really don't think I could handle that, Zach."
"Well, I've already hurt you," he said.
"No. I told you—"
"I barged into your life and started giving you hell about the way you were living, when I had no right. But I can't bring myself to be sorry it happened, because it opened my eyes, and it made me stop running," he said. "All those years, I was after you to stop running away from everything, and here I was, running myself. I finally owned up to it, Julie. Because of you."
She had tears in her eyes, and it hurt him to see them. They spilled over from the corners, and he took the pads of his thumbs and the sides of his hands and wiped them away.
"I needed you then, and I need you now," he said. "And that's something I've never said to a woman before."
It was as if the words moved through her like a wave, rocking her back where she stood, and then she slowly gathered her strength and opened her mouth, surely to object some more.
"I have to warn you that I'm a mess right now," he rushed on. "You saw some of it, but not all of it, and it's not pretty, and I just hate it. I don't know what's going to happen, and I've got to be the worst kind of risk in a relationship right now, but I'm still asking you to take me on. And one more thing. One big thing. I don't want you here because you think you owe me. Got that?"
"I do owe you. I owe you so much."
"No. No guilt. No paybacks. No sympathy."
"Then what am I going to give you?" she asked.
"Anything else you've got, I'll take," he promised her.
"Zach, I'm the worst when it comes to relationships, to making things last. I'm the last person in the world you want to be involved with."
"Well, that's just too bad, because you're the only person I want."
* * *
Julie just stood there. Every shred of self-preservation she had was telling her to run as fast as she could. This couldn't be happening. These feelings were too intense, t
oo scary.
She wanted so damned much for all of this to be true. She wanted to believe love really did exist. That Zach meant every word he was saying, and that he was thinking with a clear head. That everything she'd ever believed about her future might have been flat-out wrong. That she could trust like this, love just like this. With him.
She'd probably loved him since that night when she was seven, when she had stayed at his house long after Grace had gone to bed, because she hadn't wanted to be at her house alone. He'd walked her home, wrapped his jacket around her to keep her from getting cold and waited with her until her mother finally came home. It seemed he'd always taken care of her. She'd never thought it would turn into anything like love.
Of course, he hadn't said anything about love, and she wouldn't let him if he tried. But the look in his beautiful dark eyes and the way he held her, the way his body seemed to be calling to her, drawing her closer with a kind of force she'd never felt before... When he'd said he needed her... She couldn't imagine what she might have to give him in return.
"Hold me, Julie," he said. "Wrap your arms around me and just hang on to me for a minute."
So she held him. What else could she do? She wanted to be in his arms every bit as much as he wanted to be in hers.
She dipped her head down low so that maybe he wouldn't see her tears. Her hand, which had once pushed him away, grabbed on to the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him closer. Her arms slid around his waist and then burrowed up under his sweater, finding warm, smooth skin and the strength she had reveled in that night.
She eased her face against his chest, burrowing into the soft knit, looking for the smell she remembered as his. His arms came just as slowly to her, as if he were carefully fitting together the pieces of a puzzle, separated into two halves that would now be made whole. His hands worked their way up and down her back, tucking her just a bit closer here and there and then locking around her.
"I've gone about this all backwards, and I'm sorry for that. I get near you, and... Well, you know what happened then."
Yes, she did, and it was different from what was happening now. She felt heat, but it was more a banked fire, a glowing warmth, a kindness and understanding, so many possibilities. It terrified her.
"Don't let go," she said, as he'd done that first night.
"I won't," he promised.
The thing was, this—here with him—was a place a woman could stay, where she could feel safe. She'd never found a place where she'd felt as safe as she had with him.
She wondered if he knew that. That she had a little girl inside who she'd never truly acknowledged, who'd always been in love with him and always would be. That little girl was practically dancing with joy, thinking she was finally getting what she'd waited for all these years, even as another part of her was convinced it could never be real, could never last.
And he couldn't know about that little girl. The idea of being that vulnerable in front of another human being was nearly enough to make her sick, and she knew it was long past time to start throwing up all those walls of hers. But, funny, it seemed she'd forgotten how to build them, and she was too tired to do it, anyway.
Did he know what it would do to her to catch a glimpse of something like this and then lose it? She tried to ease herself away from Zach, just the least little bit, but his hold was unyielding. She leaned back in his arms and gazed up at him.
His face had the barest hint of a smile, and his gaze was as steady as ever. "You told me not to let go, and I'm not going to."
"I don't know how to do this," she protested.
"Neither do I. I was hoping we could make it up as we go along."
She frowned up at him. Of course he thought that. He could do anything.
Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine them together in a way that wasn't just about sex. Which had the effect of making her think about sex. With him. Again. She hadn't gotten enough, not nearly enough, not yet.
And it was starting even now, that slow, sexual heat simmering between them. They were close enough that her breasts were pressed against his chest. They felt tight and heavy. Her skin was tingling, practically calling out, Touch me, touch me, touch me, and she would have sworn she could already taste his lips on hers. He leaned into her ever so slightly, just enough to let her feel the way his body was responding to hers. He was hard and ready, despite claiming he wanted more than to have her again.
Everything inside her seemed to go soft and tingly at the feel of him pressed against her this way. It was like he'd fine-tuned her body to pick up the rhythm emanating from his, and he'd been broadcasting a signal to her ever since. And now he was back, touching her, wanting her. Saying he needed her.
How much resistance could a woman be expected to muster? She groaned and stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him to her, as close as they could get. Her mouth locked on his, and her knees went weak at the first touch of their lips.
"Mmm." The part of her mind that said they really hadn't settled anything seemed to be wiped clean as he claimed possession of her mouth, taking the initiative for the kiss when she'd barely gotten started taking what she wanted from him. But this was okay. This was just fine.
She groaned again, and so did he, and then their bodies started throbbing, one in time with the other. She felt like she were coming alive in a way she never had before.
It reminded her of a time when she'd been outside in the snow too long and gotten too far from home. She'd thought she might well freeze before she made it back. Her whole body had gone numb. Finally, in the heat of the house, she'd stripped off her wet clothes, and the feeling slowly came back to her limbs. It was like someone setting off sparklers inside her, sputtering and spitting out sparks, little flames dancing along just beneath the surface of her skin.
It was like that now. Thousands of little sparklers. She could almost hear the hissing, burning sound they made, and she could feel the heat, the magic.
Hold me tighter, she thought. Don't ever let me go.
One of Zach's hands pushed its way up her shirt in the back, skin finding skin, and then his other hand joined the first. More skin on skin. Then it slid lower, cupping her bottom, and pulling her up against him more tightly.
She had a wicked flash of them, zippers undone, pants shoved down, everything just far enough out of the way so she could have him inside her, right out here in the backyard on the fall leaves and the grass.
"Good God," he said, breaking off the kiss and backing away, breathing heavily but not letting her go.
"I know," she said, laughing from pure joy, her fears forgotten for the moment. Even then, he didn't let her go. He was a man of his word.
She watched his shoulders rise and fall, breath by breath, as he struggled to find some control. "I didn't come here for this," he said.
"You didn't?"
"Not just this," he clarified.
Julie laughed again, thinking it really was a shame they lived in town, where the houses were so close together and everyone could see everything. The pile of leaves and the autumn grass were so inviting at the moment, and sex with Zach was much easier to think about than love.
"We'll work it out," he said.
"Okay," she said, reaching way down deep inside for some kind of faith, maybe even enough to see this through. She'd always believed in him. If she could do this with anyone, it would be him.
"Don't get scared," he commanded.
"Easy for you to say."
"No, it's not. I'm scared, too."
"What about this scares you, Zach?"
"Everything," he said. "Oh hell, just about everything in my life scares me right now."
He frowned down at her, nervous energy radiating from him, mixing with the sexual heat. She put her hand to his face, reveling in the ability to just reach up and touch him, to pull him to her and kiss him again, if she dared let herself. But as inviting as that was, she sensed this wasn't the time.
"What's wrong
?" she asked.
"Just some things I have to tell you. So that you know what you're getting into. I'm at least half crazy right now."
"Zach, you're the sanest person I know."
"Then you need some new friends," he said.
She stopped teasing, stopped smiling. "You're serious?"
He nodded, and that insane sexual heat was finally dissipating. He waited a long time before he said, "We really do have to talk about this. Can we go inside?"
"We could, but I doubt we could stand the noise. Peter's home. It was your phone call to the judge that got him here this quickly."
"Nobody to blame but me, huh?"
Julie nodded. "You're changing the subject."
"Trying to."
He was nervous, and she was amazed. "It's me, Zach. You can tell me anything."
"I'm counting on that."
"I need you, too," she said. "Just in case there's any way you don't know that already, and in case it makes whatever you need to say easier."
"It does."
"You need some kind of help?" she guessed when he said nothing.
He nodded.
"And it's that hard to ask me?"
"You don't ask me," he pointed out.
"I never had to. You always just jumped in and started taking care of me."
"You wouldn't ask for help. You never do. And I don't, either. That's one thing you'll probably need to remember, if we're going to make something of this. I have a hard time asking, a hard time admitting I ever come up against anything I can't handle on my own."
"Okay. I'll make a note of that. Don't wait for Zach to ask for help. What else?"
"I really hate it that... that man... George Greene, is out of prison."
"I know."
"And I'm not handling it well."
She nodded, then gave him a tentative smile. "Well, I know you usually handle everything well, but most people don't."
"That's what my mother said." He took a breath and looked even more nervous, more serious. "Sometimes I think... I'm just going to fall apart, Julie. Like I can't handle this, and it's going to get too hard for me to deal with, and then... I don't know what's going to happen then."
He said it as if it were some terrible sin. She just didn't understand.