by C. R. Ellis
“Emmett. What’s all of this?” she asked as her eyes moved from the pan of homemade pepperoni rolls to the pot of mac n’ cheese to the bowl of watermelon and pineapple chunks.
“A little birdie might have told me what your preferred hangover foods are,” I answered while keeping my eyes glued to where the shirt hit her thighs a few inches above the knee. “But I didn’t have pizza rolls, so I had to improvise.”
“I know I’ve already asked this, but seriously, how are you real?” she asked, slowly padding her way across the oversized rug in the living room. She stepped around the island and came to a stop in front of the stove. Jade studied my features like I was a puzzle she’d spent hours trying to piece together.
“I could ask you the same thing. Do you have any idea how insanely hot you look in my shirt right now?” My eyes dropped back down to scan her body again.
“Oh, um, yeah,” she began, hands tracing the hemline my eyes had just been glued to. “I hope you don’t mind I sort of rummaged around in your dresser after I realized the dress Jas brought was made for a toddler and covers way less skin than this shirt. Plus, this is a lot more comfortable.”
“Mind? Hell no, I don’t mind. In fact, I think you should probably only ever wear my shirts,” I responded, unapologetically staring at her ass when she leaned over the counter to grab a piece of watermelon.
“Mmm, not sure that’d go over so well at weddings.”
“Fair enough. Just while you’re with me, then.”
I moved toward the cabinet and pulled out a plate and a bowl. I set them down next to the stove where Jade stood and let my hands find her shoulders. “Go make yourself comfortable on the couch, Jade. I’ll bring you food.” I lightly massaged her shoulders and bent to kiss her temple.
A soft moan of appreciation slipped from her throat, and I had to scroll through my mental rolodex of WWII documentaries to keep myself from thinking about all the other sounds I knew she could make just from my touch.
“You know, I’m perfectly capable of—mm,” she cut herself off with a groan as my thumbs kneaded the base of her neck.
I chuckled. “You were saying…?”
“Uh, nothing, carry on,” she answered, dropping her head forward to give me more access to her neck.
I smirked and obliged her for another minute before steering her toward the living room. “More massaging later, pretty girl. Go sit.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda bossy?” I could hear the grin in her question without even seeing her face.
“Maybe once or twice. Thought you liked my bossy side, Tiny?”
A hmm is the only response I got from her, so I turned to direct my questioning look her way. She was seated on the brown leather sofa situated in the middle of the living room, facing the TV, with her head down and looking at something in her lap. I finished making her plate and went to see what she was so fixated on.
“You look like him you know,” she muttered.
Which him? Shit.
I set the dishes down on the coffee table and sank into the cushion next to her so I could see what she was seeing. Relief washed over me when I realized she was holding a tech magazine with an article about J.S. Innovations and not some misplaced family photo. There was a color photo of John leaning against his desk, with a piece about all of the philanthropy work we did as a company on top of leading the industry in solar and wind power innovative technology. It was only one aspect of our company, but our efforts in the energy world were what John was proudest of. Specifically, the power we brought to remote villages and towns using our technology.
“No wonder you wanted to work for your uncle. He sounds like a remarkable man, Emmett. And the work you do is admirable,” she praised, shifting her body to fit against mine as her free hand moved to rest on my thigh.
“He taught me the value of everything I have, and everything I do. When I was little, John would always say, ‘Emmett, there’s so much more to life than the things we own. Things will come and go, but the impact we leave on the world is forever. Our biggest goal in life should be to leave the world a better place than we found it.’ For a long time, I didn’t understand. But one day, after William got furious with me for helping Will with his algebra homework and threw away my dinner, I understood. My father belittled me for enabling Will. He said I was wasting my time helping people instead of leaving the weak behind to fail. How he got elected to a public office, I’ll never understand.”
She stared blankly at me, presumably still digesting everything I’d just told her.
“Jade, I meant what I said about wanting to tell you everything. It’s been a long time since I wanted to share things about myself with anyone, but I want to now. I don’t have all the answers about how to navigate whatever we’re doing here, but I do know I can’t walk away again. I know I have enough baggage to scare off any sane person. So if it’s too much for you—”
I swallowed the end of my sentence when Jade’s lips sealed against mine. Sometimes the memory of an experience is so built up the reality can’t possibly measure up. This was not one of those times. The second her lips parted beneath mine, inviting my tongue to find hers, I realized my memory of our past kisses didn’t do the actual act justice. I wasn’t sure how a kiss could possibly feel more satisfying than sex, but something about the way Jade surrendered to me completely any time our lips came together was the most addictive, empowering feeling in the world. I wanted her to feel all the things she made me feel and more when I kissed her. I wanted her to know how much she possessed every part of me just by being in my vicinity. Jade wove her hands through the hair at the base of my skull and held me close, while my hands snaked around her waist to press her body against my chest.
She kissed me with a kind of wild abandon I wasn’t expecting, like nothing else mattered. It was teeth-crashing-against-teeth and breath-stealing and greedy. I never wanted the kiss to end, but I also desperately needed to find a sliver of the self-control I’d been clinging to before she put her lips on mine.
“Jade,” I huffed through choppy, uneven breaths after finally pulling away from her. “You’ve gotta eat something. Now.”
“Or I could just reheat it later.”
Jesus Christ. This woman was killing any and all willpower I possessed.
I stood and moved to a love seat on the opposite side of the coffee table, shaking my head in disbelief at what I was about to say. “Jade, no. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I’m not touching you again until you’ve eaten. The next time my hands are on you I don’t plan on stopping until you’re screaming my name.”
Jade’s mouth fell open, and her eyes went round as a light shade of pink worked its way over her face. Without another word she picked up the spoon and started scooping the pasta in her bowl.
“What, no comment or comeback? Too busy picturing what that’ll feel like?”
“No,” she replied a little too quickly.
My smirk caused Jade to chunk a piece of watermelon at me.
“Oh, my god, Emmett,” she moaned after biting into a pepperoni roll. So much for putting space between us to control the situation in my pants. I hadn’t even considered that Jade eating a pepperoni roll could be remotely seductive, but it fucking was. Why the hell did I make a food resembling the shape of a dick in any way?
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to not make those sounds right now, Tiny.”
She smirked as she took another bite of pepperoni roll, this time slow and purposeful as she kept her eyes on me.
“Jade,” I warned, gripping the arm rest of the love seat like my life depended on it.
“Okay, sorry.” Her laughter died down, and she eyed me carefully. “What does your tattoo mean?” she asked, reading over the scripted words on my arm.
Be here now, read the ink.
I sucked in a breath, steadying myself to tell her about the darkest part of my past. I instinctively removed my other arm from the back of the love seat and brought my fingers
to trace over the words on my skin. “Be here now is a reminder for me to stay present, to appreciate what I have. I got it about four years ago, after my wife was killed.”
“You were married?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just never talk about it. Ever.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise, but she quickly swallowed it down and found her voice. “I…Emmett, it’s okay. You weren’t planning on seeing me again, so why would you tell me something so personal?” she asked, shrugging and diverting her eyes.
“Still, I should’ve told you. Jade, you have to know what I’ve felt for you, since the second we met, is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I was used to living in a world devoid of feeling.” I paused and moved back to the couch so I could be near her. “After Tracy died, I never wanted to go through anything like that again. So if staying closed off and shutting people out meant never feeling anything again, I accepted my fate.” I hooked my index finger under her chin to tilt her face up. “But you snapped me out of it. You brought me back to life, Jade.”
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone either, Emmett,” she admitted, wrapping her hands around my wrists. “What happened to Tracy?” Hearing the complete anguish in Jade’s voice when she said Tracy’s name was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
I cleared my throat and blinked away the threatening tears. “We’d just had a huge argument about Will, and she took off in her car, angry and crying. She lost control of her car and ran off the road. I couldn’t find my keys, so by the time I left and caught up to her a few miles from our house, she was barely breathing. I saw her car and nearly flew off the road myself. I tried to get her out while I waited for the ambulance, but I couldn’t. She was gone by the time they got her to the hospital.”
Jade’s body shook with silent sobs, and I pulled her against me, hating that I’d made her cry.
“Emmett—I don’t…I don’t even know what to say,” she hiccupped against my chest, gripping the fabric of my shirt and holding me. “God, Emmett. I’m so sorry,” she sniffled. “Do you mind if I ask another question?”
“I want to give you any answer you need.” I’d give her the fucking moon if I could.
“Why were you arguing about Will?”
I grimaced. This part was going to be painful. “Tracy told me she’d been sleeping with Will for two months. She knew he’d always had a thing for her and said the affair ‘just happened.’ She begged me to forgive her. She said she’d ended things with him that day, but I was disgusted and immediately told her to pack a bag and get out of our house. I said some really shitty things to her, which only made her lash out in return. When I wasn’t willing to forgive her then and there, she lost her mind and started breaking dishes, throwing them at me and telling me she married the wrong Sinclair. I told her I couldn’t stand the sight of her and she should go enjoy fucking my brother.”
A gasp tore from Jade’s lips as soon as I told her about Tracy’s adultery. Until now, the only people to know shared my last name. “Oh, my god, Emmett,” she cried.
“I’ve always felt guilty for the way I handled her confession, but I won’t lie and tell you her betrayal didn’t mess me up just as much as her death. How fucked up am I? We had our share of problems, but I never would’ve gone and screwed someone else just to fuck with her. Having my last conversation with Tracy be one of pure anger made it impossible for me to navigate my way through the grief of losing her. A part of me wondered if I’d even still have loved her after finding out about her and Will, but then I’d feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for betraying her memory.”
I’d never told anyone the extent of how messed up things got. What I didn’t tell her, though, was that I still wasn’t entirely sure whether my life of self-imposed solitude over the last four years was because I feared Will would find a way to screw with any woman I got close to, or because I didn’t know how to trust a woman anymore. With Jade, though, I’d trusted her implicitly almost immediately after meeting her. The fear of Will trying something was real, but I knew, down to my bones, I’d protect Jade from him at all costs.
“That doesn’t make you fucked up, Emmett. It makes you human. You’re allowed to feel all of the feelings you would’ve felt without the accident. There’s no guide for how to juggle grief and betrayal at the same time. You can’t blame yourself for feeling betrayed, angry, or even for questioning what your future would’ve looked like. At the end of the day, you are the only one who knows what it feels like. Grief is a lot to bear and a burden nobody should shoulder alone.” She turned around and buried her face in my neck as her arms pretzeled around my shoulders, fingers digging into skin with a death grip.
I’d never felt a more comforting embrace.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled back to see her face and dry the tears from her cheeks before continuing. “Tracy told me Will didn’t take their breakup well, that he said he wasn’t giving up. Then he showed up to the scene of her accident minutes after I did. He was pale and antsy, totally distressed. I was out of my mind and accused him of running her off the road and killing her. When the cops arrived and pulled me off him, he said I had it all wrong, that he loved Tracy and wanted to be with her. Later he admitted their affair started because he wanted to get back at me for marrying her when he saw her first. He blames me for causing her death and said he’d make me pay for taking away the love of his life.” I swallowed down the familiar Will-induced anger boiling in my blood and took a breath. “So now you know why I panicked and needed to keep you as far away from my brother as possible.”
“God, you weren’t exaggerating about the Sinclair family issues. I understand why you’re hesitant to open up, but holding everything in sounds incredibly isolating and lonely. I’m not going to say the things your family is capable of don’t completely baffle and terrify me, but believe me when I say,” she paused to place her palm against my cheek and her forehead against mine, “I’m not running just because you have baggage, Emmett, no matter how much there is.”
God, this woman. She never ceased to shock and amaze me.
“You sure? Because there’s more,” I began hesitantly, suddenly feeling the need to tell her everything. I didn’t want to hold back, not anymore. She nodded, so I launched into an explanation about everything without holding back. I gave her the truth about Hope being my half-sister, explained the way William had always considered her existence an inconvenience at best and a threat to his career at worst, and finished by describing the conversation William and I had when he came to Austin.
She insisted she didn’t know enough about the situation to take sides in the disagreement Hope and I had about talking to the reporter. Instead, she just smiled and said she admired Hope’s tenacity and willingness to fight for what she thought was best.
In other words, she admired Hope’s stubbornness. Go figure.
“I think I’d like to meet your sister someday.”
“Why, so you can gang up on me? You two together is a scary thought.”
She laughed. “No. Well, yes, that too. But mostly because she sounds like a badass. And probably has loads of stories about you.”
I groaned. “In that case, I’ll be sure to get all kinds of stories about you from Jas next time I see her.”
“Go for it. I’m an open book,” she offered with a shrug. “Seriously though, Emmett, a crazy family isn’t enough to make me bolt. Part of your family might be certifiably insane, but you are not them. I’m not going anywhere. Got it?” Before I could reply, she reiterated her promise with a kiss reassuring enough to melt away the knot of apprehension in my chest.
“Okay, pretty girl.” I needed to tell her everything about Will, including his role in last night’s events, but I needed to make sure she was completely recovered before dropping that bomb on her. “Mind if I ask you a question of my own?”
“Anything, Boston. I wanna let you in, too.”
I let my eyes drop to the left side of her ribcage, wh
ere I knew the colorful tattoo marked her skin just beneath the fabric of my t-shirt. “What’s the significance of your tattoo?”
She smiled. “Jas and I have always wanted to see the world. I’ve been obsessed with traveling since my parents took me to France to meet some relatives when I was nine. My mom and Jasmine’s mom, Bethany, encouraged our love of traveling, and we talked about traveling around Europe together, but then Bethany got sick when we were thirteen. Breast cancer. She tried chemo, tried to fight, but it was too aggressive. She died before my fourteenth birthday. So, the globe represents our dream of traveling the world, and the infusion of colors is to honor Bethany. She was an incredible artist and loved painting. Jas and I got them as soon as she turned eighteen.”
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry about her mom. But I think the tattoo is a wonderful tribute to her memory.”
She smiled and reached over to squeeze my hand. “Thanks. Bethany was like a second mom to me, and I like to think I’m carrying a little part of her with me wherever I go.” She leaned forward and grabbed a piece of pineapple from the plate. “So, is that the only one you’re going to get?”
“For now, yeah. I almost got ‘Red Sox’ tattooed on my back one night after too many tequila shots. I passed out in the back of the cab on the way though. So worth the two-hundred-dollar cab ride.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Two hundred dollars?! I guess if the alternative is a permanent tattoo of a sports team name, it’s worth every penny. Marring your back would be bad enough, but the Red Sox would’ve totally ruined you.”