“Come on,” Wes’s mother whispered, tugging at his arm. “Harry, get Storm and Everly. We’re not letting that girl do this alone.”
And that was his mother in a nutshell. Even as emotion clogged his throat, he knew there would never be another person in his life or on this earth quite like Marie Montgomery.
The rest of his siblings and their spouses went to take seats scattered around the back as there were never enough chairs for all of his family to sit together, while Wes, his parents, and Storm and Everly went up to Jillian’s side.
Her eyes widened a moment when she saw them before she gave them a sad smile that seemed to reach her eyes.
“You came,” she whispered, though her eyes were for him and him alone before she turned to his mother. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Marie framed Jillian’s face with her hands and leaned close, resting her forehead on hers. “Of course, we did. We love you, darling.”
Jillian blinked away tears before closing her eyes tightly as she leaned into his mother’s embrace with his father by their sides, his hands on each of their shoulders. “I…thank you.”
Everly and Storm went next, each hugging her tightly before stepping back, leaving a space for Wes to move forward. He didn’t know why his mother had chosen him to come with her, other than the fact that his mom seemed to know everything before anyone else did. But now, he was glad he was there—even if it was a bit awkward.
“Jilli,” he whispered.
Her lower lip wobbled, but the tears didn’t fall this time. “Wes.”
He held out his arms, and she sank into his hold for a deep hug that lasted only a few seconds before they each pulled back, equally confused and conflicted at what was going on between them.
Jillian turned to his mother, her hands clasped in front of her, and lowered her voice. “Can you sit with me?” she whispered, her cheeks red. “I…I don’t have anyone else.”
His heart tore in two, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching out and holding her close again.
But before he did something as stupid as that, his mother kissed Jillian’s cheek and nodded. “Of course, baby. Of course. Why don’t you take your seat, and Harry and I will take these two.”
As there was only one empty spot left, Storm and Everly hugged Jillian again before going back to the rest of the family, leaving Wes to awkwardly stand with his hands in his pockets. His mother gave him a stern look, and he nodded, pulling himself out of his fog as he walked up to Jillian.
“Come on, Jilli, I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” He wasn’t sure that would be a comfort, but when she let out a sigh and met his gaze, he knew he’d done the right thing.
“Thank you.” Her words were barely audible, but he’d heard the emotion behind them.
He took her hand and sat down with her, his parents sitting next to him. He hated the fact that Jillian had been alone until the Montgomerys showed up. Yes, she’d had her father’s friends, but from the way she’d set herself apart in the sea of people, he’d known they hadn’t been her friends.
He gave her hand a squeeze, and her grip tightened. She kept her gaze straight head as the pastor came forward to speak about Ashton and the bright light he’d been. Others sobbed quietly behind him, while some sniffed or coughed, emotion filling the small tent that covered them and blocked them from the sun.
Jillian didn’t cry at the man’s words; instead, she stared blankly ahead, her breaths shallow as she held onto Wes’s hand, her grip tight. Because he was so focused on her, he didn’t listen to what the officiate was saying. He knew Ashton deserved more, but he could only keep his attention on the woman at his side and make sure she didn’t feel alone.
Soon, the man finished, and they started the next stage of the service. Wes stood up with Jillian and then took a step back so she could go to her father’s graveside. She placed her hand on his casket and lowered her head before letting out a shaky breath and turning away so she could let the others mourn, as well.
She was so damn strong.
He said his goodbyes to a man he’d never met but had admired because of the woman he raised, before standing off to the side with Storm and some of his other family. The women had gone to help Jillian, but Wes knew having him around would only stress her out. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.
“Do you know who they are?” Storm asked quietly, nodding toward a group of large men in suits who had set themselves apart from the rest of the group and studied the mourners from behind dark glasses.
“No,” Wes answered, though he wasn’t sure what made him feel a bit off when he looked at the other group of men. “I didn’t know Ashton, though. Could be some of his friends.”
“They didn’t sit with the rest of us,” Austin said with a shrug. “But not everyone mourns the same way.”
Wes nodded before turning back to Jillian, putting the men in suits and dark glasses out of his mind. He wouldn’t go to the wake, he decided. That would be a time where people would tell stories of Jillian’s father and want to mourn in a setting where they were comfortable. He knew Storm, Everly, and his parents would go for Jillian, but he didn’t feel like it would be his place.
Jillian looked up at that moment, her gaze meeting his before she turned away as someone came up to her to speak.
“You want to tell us what that’s about?” Storm asked quietly.
“Not the right time or place.” Wes didn’t look at his brother or the rest of the Montgomerys around him. He wasn’t sure what they’d see when they looked into his eyes as it was.
No one said anything else after that, and the crowd slowly dispersed as they went their separate ways. Wes stood alone in the cemetery for longer than he probably should have while those that worked for the funeral home went about their business.
He had a lot to think about, but couldn’t quite get his thoughts together to figure out what everything meant.
Soon, he told himself.
Soon, he’d figure out what it all meant and what was going on inside him. First, though, he would make sure Jillian could mourn. And throughout it all, he’d be what she needed him to be.
What that was, well, that was something he needed to figure out.
Soon.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jillian growled and threw her wet towel on the ground, knowing it wasn’t going to sop up any of the water that had already spilled on the cement in front of her. “What the hell, you goddamn thing? Why won’t you bend to my will and do what I damn well need you to do?”
It had been two weeks since she’d laid her father to rest, and since then, she’d apparently lost all her drive and skill when it came to plumbing. The prime example for the day was the fact that she couldn’t fix her own water heater.
She didn’t need to replace the sucker, she knew that much, but it was unwilling to cooperate and let her fix it.
The bastard.
Knowing if she didn’t back away from her traitorous appliance, she’d throw something or break it even more, she picked up her tools, made sure the main water was off, and went back upstairs. It wasn’t as if she could call a plumber to help her—not even one of the guys Wes and Storm had hired to work under her.
She hadn’t taken time off and didn’t want to, so she’d been able to help train them the way she wanted the guys to work with her. So far, they hadn’t acted as if they cared that it was a woman telling them what to do, so she counted that as a plus.
That was about the only win in her column these days.
Every morning, she got out of bed, showered, and did her normal routine in a world that felt anything but normal. Then she’d go to work, do what she thought she did best, and only talk to those who needed direction. She did her paperwork on time and nodded along when others asked how she was doing.
She was alive, but she wasn’t living. Wasn’t feeling.
How was she supposed to feel when she couldn’t hear her father
’s booming laugh? How was she supposed to know that everything would be okay one day when she knew it couldn’t be without her dad hiding gelato or wanting her to finish knitting him a scarf?
She hadn’t looked at her knitting bag since the funeral.
She didn’t know if she ever would again.
What was the point?
There were still the legal matters of her father’s home and estate to deal with, but when he’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, they’d gone to a lawyer together and had set up as much as they could ahead of time. She’d thought they’d still have years before she had to deal with any of that stuff. As it turned out, she only had a few meager months.
She’d never gotten her road trip.
Never got to walk through the foothills with her father as he told her stories from when she was younger.
She hadn’t finished going through old boxes that her father had set out for her so they could remember happier times.
And she hadn’t heard from her mother once since she left a message on the woman’s voicemail. Jillian hadn’t been surprised, but she was still hurt and pissed off.
Apparently, Boca Rotan and her mother’s new children were far more important than the man she’d once claimed to love and the child that had been born from that love before being left behind. The woman had married her father. She’d had a child with the man and hadn’t bothered to send flowers or even text Jillian back saying something like she was sorry for her loss.
Anything would have been better than this silence.
Of course, as soon as Jillian thought that, she figured if she had heard from her mother, that would have stirred a whole other set of emotions within her.
And she knew she was focusing on her job and the lack of communication from her womb donator because she didn’t want to look too closely at the fact that she’d lost a part of herself when her father died.
Somehow, she was a mixture of numbness and heightened emotion, and she had no idea what to do next except remember to breathe and take one step after the other.
Hell, she’d never felt so out of sorts. So freaking lonely.
Maybe she would get that kitten, after all.
Before she could get any more introspective, her doorbell rang, and she frowned, wondering who could possibly be at her door.
When she opened it, however, she should have known who was there. “Wes.” She swallowed hard, still not used to why she reacted the way she did whenever she saw him. Her heart raced, and her knees shook ever so slightly.
He made her feel when all she wanted to do was remain blissfully numb.
“Hey.” She watched his throat as he swallowed hard before stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I just…well, its Sunday, and I figured since I’m off for the day, I’d come by and see how you were. Though now that I’m here, I think I made a mistake.”
“It’s Sunday?” Not exactly what she’d planned to say, then again, she hadn’t known what she meant to say anyway.
Wes nodded slowly as if he were afraid if he moved too quickly, he’d scare her off. He wasn’t wrong.
“Uh…why don’t you come in? It’s hot outside.” Her words were wooden, her hands shaking as she tried to remember how to be human. She used to be good at this, at knowing how to breathe and think at the same time.
Now, she felt as if she were one bad decision away from falling down the rabbit hole.
She closed the door behind him as he passed her and then turned to face him. His gaze traveled over her, and she knew it wasn’t about finding her attractive, but about making sure she was okay. Or at least that’s what she felt at that moment.
“You’re wet.”
Jillian’s eyes widened. “Uh.”
She swore she saw a blush on his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “I mean your jeans and shoes. You’re tracking water through your house. What’s going on?”
She looked down at herself and frowned. “Oh. It’s my water heater. The damn thing is going wonky, and I couldn’t fix it.” She looked up at him and winced. “Uh, that’s probably not something I should tell my boss, right?”
Wes sighed. “I’m not your boss right now.”
“Firing me, are you?” She knew she sounded on edge, but she was all over the place today.
Wes gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “No, and you know that. I’m saying that, right now, in your home when it’s just you and me? I’m not your boss.”
“Then what are you, Wes?”
He met her gaze, and she let out a slow breath. “I want to be your friend. I’m tired of fighting all the time. I’m tired of this feeling between us, and I’d rather find a balance. Now, do you want help with your water heater? You’re far better at this stuff than I am, but I can hold a wrench for you while you work.”
She pressed her lips together, a little stunned that he’d said everything he had. “I…I don’t know what we are, Wes. Or what we can be.” Emotion clogged her throat, and she tried to push it back just like she had so many times over the past two weeks, but it wasn’t as easy as it was before.
“Talk to me, Jilli.”
“Don’t call me that,” she cried out, her hands shaking. Wes took a step toward her, and she held out her trembling hands, knowing her eyes were wide and possibly a little manic.
“Okay, I won’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it bothered you.”
And it hadn’t every other time he’d called her that, in fact, she’d liked it, but right then, she knew she was feeling too much, too soon, and wasn’t in control.
“Why did you have to call me in?” she blurted, her voice cracking.
Wes’s jaw tightened, and sadness filled his eyes.
“I’ll never forgive myself for doing that, for taking those moments away from you.”
She moved the two steps toward him and put her palms on his chest, her breath coming in pants.
“I could have helped him. I could have been there. Instead, he died alone and without me. I didn’t get to say goodbye, Wes. I didn’t get to do anything! I left him, thinking I had more time, when all the while, the world was laughing at me because there’s never any time. I lost everything, and I’m so fucking mad, Wes. I should have been there. Why did you make me go to the site? Why did that pipe have to burst and ruin everything? Why can’t I fix my damn water heater? Why can’t I do anything right?”
She didn’t let the tears fall, but her heart raced, and her mind went in a thousand different directions.
“Why did he have to die, Wes? Why did he leave me here alone?”
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered before he pulled her close and cupped her face with his strong hands. She beat his chest with her fists, so fucking angry at the world, but he didn’t back away. He didn’t flinch when she hit him harder before resting her palms on the planes of his chest.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.
“But he’s still not coming back. I should have been there. I should feel something beyond this aching cavern of nothingness, yet all I can do is wonder why I’m not numb all the time. Why is that, Wes? Why don’t I feel like I should?”
She was whispering now, no longer yelling or hitting or even crying. She just was.
“You’re feeling like you need to. There’s no wrong way to heal, Jillian. Keep hitting me. Yell some more. I can take it.”
And he would. He’d do anything to help, yet she knew there was only one thing she needed from him. One thing that was possibly the worst mistake she could make, but she couldn’t think of anything else.
“Help me feel again, Wes,” she whispered. “Help me feel.” She turned her head and leaned into his palm. “I can’t…I can’t do anything else. Just help me be.”
He ran his hand through her hair and over her messy ponytail, giving it a tug. “That would be a mistake.”
“No, it wouldn’t. We are already on this path, and now I want to just be in your arms and forget everything else. I want to forget this pain. Forget what I lost, and wha
t I’ll never have. I want to remember what I can be when everything else is out of my mind. Can you do that? Can you help me?”
He let out a shuddering breath as he rested his forehead on hers. “I want you, Jillian. I do, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You won’t,” she said honestly. If anything, she’d be taking advantage of him, but she couldn’t stop needing him. Not now.
Wes ran his hand down her back, pulling her closer. “I can’t deny that I want you. I’ll never deny that. Not again. And if this is what you want? Then I’ll be that for you. And tomorrow, I’ll be what you need me to be, as well.”
What about what he needed, she wondered.
But before she could tell him that or have second thoughts, his mouth was on hers, and she had that spark of sensation that told her that she could feel with him.
She arched into him, her body shaking with need as his hands slowly roamed up and down her back. When she bit his lip, needing more, he let out a growl and reached around to grab her ass, lifting her up in the next movement. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing into the strong lines of his muscles. She’d known his body held strength, she’d seen it in the way he moved around the site, how he hid it behind those button-down shirts, but feeling it pressed against her turned her on even more.
He turned with her in his arms and walked toward the dining area off the kitchen. She’d have told him to go back to her bedroom, but when he set her on the edge of the table and leaned down to suck her neck, she moaned, not wanting to take another minute away from what they were doing in order to walk to the back of the house.
He just made her feel so damn good, and he made her forget.
That was what she needed right now.
No promises. No pain.
Inked Memories (Montgomery Ink Book 8) Page 11