Jase

by MariaLisa deMora

  “No one deserves this more than you do, Jase,” he said, putting a ‘C’ patch in Jase’s hand.

  He looked up, stunned, and frantically tried to hand it back. “No, no. Nuh-uh. I’m not no captain. No, no. That’s your job, man.” Frustrated, because Lee wouldn’t accept the patch, he looked over at Coach, only to find an amused smile on the man’s face.

  “Seriously, I’m not captain material, eh? I’m the comedian; I know what I am. That’s my job, to keep the spirits up, eh? Not lead and inspire, that’s your job, Lee. Your name even fits, Lee…lead, see? Not me. No, no, no.” He was nearly panicking, trying to get the man to take the patch out of his hand.

  “Co-Captain,” Lee said, clapping a hand on Jase’s shoulder. “My new Co-Captain. You’ll be okay. You thinking you don’t deserve it only reinforces my belief that you do.”

  Jase stood still, looking down at the patch in his hand. Next game, it would be sewn to his jersey and he would have a slightly different position to fill, still encouraging his teammates, but with less humor, a more serious role. Nodding, he lifted his eyes to look around the room, seeing the smiles on the faces of his team, hearing the tapping of their stick butts and palms against the floor mats and walls. His team. When did the Tridents become my team? he wondered with a grin. “You fuckers don’t know what you’ve unleashed upon the world. Giant lizard stompin’ on a city got nothing on Jase Spencer, Co-Captain.” He made roaring noises, flapping his arms around, and the room erupted into laughter.

  Lee slapped him on the back again and the room filled with chatter about the game, dissecting the plays that had garnered them goals, as well as the ones that stole them. His team.

  ***

  “Too bad, man,” Mason said, turning to put his elbows on the bar behind him. “You played a hell of a game, though. That was a nice shot you put in during the shootout.”

  “Too little, too late. Was a good, tight game,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “Hard loss. That probably killed playoffs for us.”

  “Ouch.” Mason winced. “That sting a little? Coming off the win last year?”

  “Hell yeah, it stings,” he acknowledged. “This move’s been good for me, though. I wouldn’t change it up. I’ve done all right here, and they’re a talented team; we took too long to gel earlier in the season. If I play for them next year, I think we’ll do well.” In the mirror, he saw Daniel and Gary walking up behind him. “There’s no shame in losing to the defending champions, even if Daniel Rupert is their captain.”

  “Hey, watch it,” Daniel said, slapping Jase’s shoulder.

  “Oh, hey, Daniel. Didn’t see you standing there,” he deadpanned and then laughed. “Good win, man. Your team is tight as ever.”

  “Tridents aren’t pushovers. You made us work for every goal.” Daniel ordered a beer with a flick of his fingers. “Was a good game.”

  Jase looked around. “I don’t see your lovely wife. Did she come with?”

  “Naw, she wanted to stay closer to home. She’s only got a couple more weeks before she’s due, and travel is hard on her, even for short distances.” He smiled, and in that simple expression, Jase could clearly see the man’s love for Mica. Cutting his eyes over to Mason, he was surprised to see happiness on his face, too, as he watched and listened to Daniel. He never understood the dynamic in that kind of triad relationship, where two men loved the same woman, but one willingly stepped aside.

  Shaking his head, he looked over at Daniel with a grin. “Guess what you’re looking at?”

  With a snort, Daniel tipped his head back. “No idea, idiot. With you, so many different answers immediately come to mind. Why don’t you tell me what I’m looking at?”

  “Tridents’ new co-captain, that’s what,” he said proudly, and was gratified to see both Daniel and Mason smile. “It’s about time someone appreciated me,” he laughed.

  “Congrats, Jase.” Daniel shook his hand. “That’s awesome. Lee’s a good guy; you can learn a lot from him.”

  Later, standing at the bar, he was watching Mason sitting across the room. The man had been in his element all night, chatting with all the Rebels in the house as well as fielding conversations with members of other clubs who approached him. Jase saw at least three other patches in the bar, and he admired Mason’s natural confidence when confronted by someone who could well be a rival.

  Catching his eye, Mason stood and walked over to him, motioning to the barkeep for another beer. They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the ebb and flow of the crowd around the tables and bar. Mason said abruptly, “You bought Winger’s bike.”

  Not quite a question, but it deserved a response, so Jase said, “Yeah. Didn’t seem right letting it go to a stranger.”

  “You didn’t know Winger though, did you?” Mason looked at him, taking a long drink from his beer.

  “No. To me, it’s DeeDee’s bike, man.” He sighed.

  Mason nodded, his lips thinning at something. “I can see that. Can see why it would bother you, too.” He set his beer down, crossing his arms over his chest. “What happened there? I thought y’all were good.”

  “I did too,” he responded, sipping from his mug. “I don’t know what happened, to be honest. When everything went down with Ruby, she was leaning on me, and it seemed like she needed me. We fit. Then it was as if she dropped a brick wall down between us. I had a three-day road trip for away games, and by the time I got back, she had fallen off the face of the earth. A week later, she sent Slate to tell me to stop trying to contact her.”

  He looked over at Mason. “She came to one game, but then bolted before we could do much more than say hello. As I said, I don’t…I don’t know what happened.”

  Mason sighed, uncrossing and re-crossing his arms. “I think I do, but I’ll have to talk to Maggie, Bear’s mom, to know for sure.” He looked at Jase, shaking his head. “You still sure she’s what you want, man?”

  “She’s all I see, Mason,” he answered simply, and Mason nodded his head once, decisively.

  ***

  “Jase,” Slate’s voice came through the phone, “you have plans tonight?”

  “Nope, not as far as I know right now,” he responded, stirring the corn chowder simmering on the stovetop. It had been an easy week; he only had one game, so he’d been able to do some shopping today and finally had supplies to cook with again. “Planned to head to Chicago tomorrow and see Daniel’s baby, but that’s not set in stone. Whatcha need?”

  “You still have your truck, right?” Slate’s question was clear, but there was so much noise in the background he wasn’t sure the man could hear him.

  “Yeah, still have the truck. Whatcha need?” Repeating his question, he reached into the cabinets, pulling down a bowl and ladling out a measure of the chowder for his dinner.

  “DeeDee is moving. I’d like your help to get things shifted over to her new condo.”

  Before Slate could even finish speaking, Jase was talking over him, agreeing. “You betcha. Tell me where. I’ll be there.” He took a shaky breath, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to one side. “I’ll be there, man. Thanks.”

  “Meet us at her apartment in twenty. She’s over at the new place right now. We can get a load ready and haul it over.” He paused and said, “Jase, man, she doesn’t know about this.”

  “Okay. It's all right,” he babbled. “Apartment, got it. Best behavior, on it. I’ll be there,” he repeated and grinned. “I’m all over this, Slate. I’m on it.” Hanging up, he left the bowl and pot cooling on the stovetop and walked briskly to his bedroom, dressed in record time, and headed into the parking lot. He jumped into his truck and sat for a moment, trying to gather his wits before seeing her.

  New beginnings

  Moving slowly, she turned in a circle, admiring the pristine walls of her new condo. No more renting for her, she had finally made the leap and bought a home. A couple of hours ago, the local store had delivered the brand new furniture she purchased. None of
it was fancy, but she was proud of what she had accomplished.

  She finished putting linens on the new bed and had walked to the living area to consider placement of the couch and chair, when the apartment filled with the chatter of voices as her front door opened. DeeDee turned to face her helpers with a smile that quickly faded when she saw the man walking through the door behind them. Jase Spencer was trailing behind Slate, carrying a box labeled ‘Bedroom’.

  A roundly pregnant Ruby walked up to her with a commiserating look on her face, and without speaking, patted DeeDee on the shoulder as she passed through into the kitchen. Slate had the good sense not to look at her as he carried his own carton, following Ruby.

  Jase paused in the living room and stared at her. She couldn’t tell anything from the expression he wore; his face was uncharacteristically hard to read. His gaze drifted down then paused with a slight frown, and she realized she was reflexively wringing her hands in the hem of her shirt.

  She hadn’t seen him up close since the night of his injury. Every day, she missed him so terribly, and seeing him here now…in her new home, it was unreal. Taking a deep breath and trying to pull together her fleeing composure, she dropped her hands to her sides and lifted her chin, giving him a wide, genuine smile. “Jase,” she said, unable to keep the pleasure from her voice, “it’s good to see you.” Moving forward, she held out her hands. “I can take that. Thank you for bringing it inside.”

  He shifted sideways, keeping the box out of reach. “I got it, DeeDee. Just show me where to set it. I have another half-dozen in the truck labeled the same.” He gave her that half-smile she loved, crooked and rueful. “It’s good to see you, too. Really good. You look good. And it’s good…to see you. Off the charts—”

  Snapping his mouth shut, he first looked at her and then down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Swallowing hard, he flashed that damn smile again and asked, “Show me?”

  Walking up the hallway, she was acutely aware of Jase behind her. It was as if there were a scalding heat rolling off the man, winding its way around her, slipping underneath her clothes to cover her skin. It nearly felt as if he were touching her, caressing her…stealing her breath. She opened the master bedroom door and stepped inside, mutely pointing across the room to the far wall.

  When he walked around her, she caught a hint of the woodsy scent from his body wash mixed with pure, raw male. He always smelled so good. When they were together and he stayed over, he left his scent on her pillows. Then, even when he had to go out of town, she would sleep better for days, surrounded by the smell of him in her bed.

  “Hey,” he said, jerking her from her daydream, and she realized she had been in a daze, staring at him. Had to have been, because he put the box where she directed and was now standing in front of her. Sad lines framed his eyes and she dropped her gaze, not wanting to see that look on his face.

  Reaching out, he tipped her chin up with his fingertips and ran his thumb gently across her lips. “Hey,” he repeated quietly, and she watched as his mouth quirked up into that half-smile again. Slipping his fingers along her jawline, he traced the edges until he cupped her face.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head and pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand, unable to stop herself from seeking the warmth and feel of his caress. She missed that so much, the way he never had been able to keep his hands off her, the way he could make her feel with just a touch.

  The tip of his thumb dragged her bottom lip down, and her lips pursed with a breathless gasp. He moved and she opened her eyes to find him leaning closer, lips slightly parted, his expression begging permission.

  Closing her eyes again, she met him halfway, rising on her toes and pressing her lips against his in a questing, exploring kiss. They remained like that for seconds, neither of them asking or demanding more, just their lips working gently together. He pulled away, capturing her bottom lip between his and she opened her mouth, the tip of her tongue sweeping along his lips as he released her.

  Reaching up, she cupped her hand over his where it still rested on her face and tilted her head, silently encouraging him to kiss her again. When he didn’t, she opened her eyes to find his dark gaze slowly scanning her face, his expression remote and shuttered. Oh, she thought sadly, sighing and settling back onto the heels of her feet. He gets it. He finally gets why I’m wrong for him. All it took was him seeing me again for it to sink in.

  She moved to step away and his eyes flared wide, his hand moving to cup the back of her neck, holding her in place. He groaned then, pulling her into him even as he pushed her against the wall, his mouth crashing onto hers as he flattened her against the hard surface. She fisted her hands, trying to deny the need for contact. She couldn’t touch him; it would only make things more difficult when he pulled away, because she knew once she started touching him, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  The kiss went on for a long time, his hands roaming everywhere, as if he were relearning the feel of her. They would break apart, panting for breath, and then dive back into each other, tongues sliding and dueling. His hands were restlessly seeking and stroking her body, lifting and caressing her breasts, stroking down and over her ass. He buried his fingers in her hair, tugging to tilt her head for better access. She allowed every touch, shifting, unresisting as his hands moved her, his body pressing against her, and she welcomed the burning heat he brought to her skin.

  He finally pulled away, propping his arm on the wall beside her head and resting his forehead against his wrist. Breathlessly, he said her name. His other hand wrapped around her waist, palm cupping the curve of her hip, pressing against her skin where he slipped his fingers into the top edge of her jeans.

  DeeDee stood still, framed between the heat of his body and the cool plaster of the wall. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see if there was disappointment and regret on his face. She had been afraid all along that when he realized how things were—when they were finally over, with no hope of reunion—it would hurt, and she had been right.

  He didn’t move or speak, and tears slowly slipped from underneath her lashes, trailing down her cheeks as she bit back a sob. It was happening now, here. This was it. This was when he listened to her and ceased his hopeless pursuit. This was the moment when she accepted he was well and truly no longer hers—and she knew, had known all along this would destroy her. Like the night in the parking lot after the game, the pain rested heavily on her chest.

  “Look at me,” he whispered, and she physically rejected the notion, jerking her head side-to-side. She couldn’t do this…didn’t want to see. “Baby,” he said, his hand clenching on her hip. “Look at me, please.” The feather light touch of a kiss fell on one corner of her mouth and she was suddenly confused. This doesn’t feel like goodbye, she thought. Why is he kissing me again? Another kiss, followed by a repeat of the plea, “Baby, please look at me. Open your eyes and see me.”

  Clamping her lips together to still the trembling, she opened her eyes, looking at him through her tear-spiked lashes, her hands pressing flat against the wall behind her, holding her steady. “DeeDee,” he breathed her name. “Baby, tell me you want me.”

  Startled, she stood silently, watching while he leaned closer, kissing her gently with eyes wide open, looking at her. “Tell me I’m not alone,” he whispered against her lips. “Don’t leave me alone,” he pleaded, kissing her again. “Touch me, baby. God, please touch me. Show me you still want me…us.”

  Curling her hands around his hips, she ran her hands up his back slowly, reverently brushing her palms against the shirt as it molded to his ribs. “Jase, of course, I still want you,” she said, and he pulled back, moving slightly away.

  “There’s no ‘of course’ here, baby,” he said, looking down into her face. “You walked away from me, from this…from what we were building. Am I the only one feeling like I’m ripped wide open? You walked away, and now I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I’m scared...I’m lost. Y
ou turned us off, walked away. There’s no ‘of course’ here.”

  “I didn’t turn anything off,” she protested, frowning. “I couldn’t. I still care for you...still want you. But, Jase, sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.” She closed her eyes and then opened them again, swallowing as tears streamed down her cheeks, looking at him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. If you still care…want us…then why would you walk away?”

  “It’s difficult to explain,” she lied, cutting her eyes down to avoid looking into his face.

  He threaded his fingers through hers and stepped backwards, pulling her with him to the bed. “Come here.” Tugging her close, he sat her on his lap, letting her lean against his chest. She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in deep. His voice was echoing, her ear on his chest picking up the vibrations as he said, “Talk to me, baby. Help me understand.”

  “You have to let me talk,” she said, holding her breath as he nodded. If he argued with her, she would never be able to tell him, and he deserved to understand how this was better for him.

  “I spent—” She paused, that wasn’t right.

  Beginning again, she said, “There were some days—”

  She paused once more, then shrugging, said, “When you find—”

  Pressing her face against his chest, she sighed in frustration. “I had this all worked out in my head. For weeks, I’ve had this conversation in my head and everything made sense. Now you’re holding me, and nothing makes sense. Nothing seems like a good enough reason, Jase. I don’t know how to say what I need to.”

  “Start at the beginning,” he whispered. “Tell me what happened between me rolling out of your bed for a road trip, and three days later when you wouldn’t take my calls. Help me understand.”

  “Twenty-two years. That happened. That’s the difference in our ages. You’re thirty, and I’m fifty-two, Jase. I realized it’s more than I thought.” She wrapped one hand around his wrist, where he held her waist.