by S. L. Scott
“Hmm . . . the last time was when I saw you walk into Red River holding Cutler’s hand. That was all I needed to see. I knew it was over. I realized there was nothing keeping me here anymore.”
Ouch. If he only knew the truth. I missed him so much that I ached inside as I withered away. It was easier to pretend I’d never experienced pure love like I’d had with Jason. My sister was so worried about me, but I still couldn’t bring myself to confess what was happening behind closed doors. The humiliation of them finding out the strong girl they once knew was weak. And then Jason was gone. Thin air, like the memories I held on to. “Your mom was here.”
Lying all the way back, he rests his hands under his head and stares at the sky. “My mom can take care of herself.”
I whisper, “I was here.”
“You were being taken care of . . .” He pauses and looks out at the water and away from me for too long. When he turns back, I see some of the pain I feel inside residing in his irises. “You weren’t mine.”
You had already decided you were leaving whether I was with you or not. “And if I had been?”
“Then I would have had a reason to stay.”
What? He had been moving on. Without me. Even though Cole told me time and time again that Jason had moved on, should I have listened to my heart? Should I have known better, and not allowed my pride to stop me from finding out the truth? He needs to know maybe I’d been wrong. “It wasn’t over for me. That night you saw us. It wasn’t over for me until he told me how you’d met someone over at State. God, I felt so foolish and hurt.”
“It was lies, Delilah. I loved you so fucking much. What did he tell you?”
What didn’t he tell me?
“He said you didn’t want me. Cole told me everyone in town considered me used goods. He said he’d love me, and since I thought you were seeing other girls, I relented. Looking back now, I can see how he got me at my weakest and took advantage. He talked me into marrying him. Without my sister by my side. Alone. The county clerk was our witness. She took a call regarding an escaped bull on the highway in the middle of the ceremony. He thought I was crying from happiness. I was devastated.”
“Why didn’t you call me, return my texts, or come see me? Find out the truth.”
“I was humiliated. You left, I believed him. I saw the stares, believed others would only see me as sloppy seconds. People respected Cole back then. I felt like an embarrassment to my family. Cole was a second chance.”
“Fuck, Delilah. If I’d known—”
“See, that’s just it. We can beat ourselves up, but it won’t change anything.”
My directness is unsettling. I’m used to sitting in my farmhouse alone at night and not having to answer to anybody anymore. Why confide true emotions to Jason? Why now? “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did, but I want to know why you’re so upset. You broke up with me not the other way around.”
“I broke up with you because you broke my heart.”
“How did I do that?”
My mouth drops wide open. “Really?” What the hell? How can he not remember something that’s scarred me for life?
“Yeah, really?”
I’m too wound up to sit still. I stand, walk off the dock into the grass, and start pacing under the same moon that hung high in the sky that first night I lost the love of my life.
When I turn to look at him, to possibly answer, I’m stunned into silence. His expression is one of pure curiosity as he watches me. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“No, but I want to.”
My emotional artillery falls like the walls I’ve built to protect myself. How can I stand here with weapons loaded when he sits there unarmed? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand how much he hurt me, which might mean he never intended to hurt me in the first place.
Whoa.
My head is spinning, my thoughts whirling with all the angles I thought I had covered regarding our breakup years earlier. Sitting down in the grass, I look at the man he’s become. He’s still so much the man my heart misses. Could I have had it wrong all along? The years we lost . . . they form a lump in my throat, but I manage to ask, “You weren’t going to break up with me when you came over to tell me about the transfer, were you?”
He looks up at me with his head tilted, shaking it a little. He appears so . . . troubled. So sad, and I feel the same. He looks me straight in the eye. “No, Delilah, I wasn’t. I was going to ask you to marry me.”
9
Jason
I don’t like to lie.
I’ve spent the last three years living in an abundance of them—for my protection, for the protection of others, protecting secrets and lives.
In McKinney, I want to live in truth. I want to feel the warmth of sunshine instead of sneaking around in the cover of night. Here, I can breathe.
But there is something about this gorgeous woman that steals my breath and my heart just from looking at her.
Even when her mouth is gaping open by an admission I promised myself I would never confess. Pushing off the splintering wood of the dock, I stand and toe my shoes off. It’s time for a diversion. Drastic measures need to be taken, and if I get to see what’s under that dress, all the better.
Socks.
Belt.
Her interest is piqued, an eyebrow raised. Her mouth is open for other reasons it seems. My plan of distraction from telling her my deepest secrets is working.
I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the pile of clothes gathering at my feet. Reaching over my head, I tug the T-shirt off and tilt my head, looking down. I’m not shy, but she’s looking at me like she’s never seen a man half undressed before. “Do you go out much?”
“No. Why?”
“No reason.” I slide the zipper down and step out of my jeans.
“Why are you undressing?”
“I’m going for a swim to cool off. Even with the sun down, it’s a warm night. Join me.”
“No. I haven’t swum in that lake since . . . well, since we were a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Dating, Jason. You know what I mean.”
I also know how to rile her up. I’ll have her in here before she has time to decide otherwise. “I liked being a thing with you. How about we try it, you know, while we swim?”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not taking a dip in that water with you.”
“Why not? Are you scared?”
“Scared?” She scoffs. “Hardly. I’m just not a teenager anymore.”
“Oh, sorry for mistaking you for someone who likes to have fun.” I start on the waistband of my boxer briefs, but she says, “Wait. What are you doing?”
“Haven’t we already covered this?” I take them down, and she’s up and turning on a dime.
With her hands over her face, and her back to me, she says, “Oh my God. Jason Koster, if you are naked righ—”
I dive into the water. It’s cold but not cold enough to make me want to get out. When I break the water’s surface, I shake my head. My hair clears from my eyes only to find hers on me. She says, “I can’t believe you just jumped in.”
“I said I was going for a swim.”
With a hand perched firmly on each hip, she’s riled up. “What about our date?”
“Are we on a date? I thought we were just talking?”
“You’re so infuriating, Jason Koster.”
“I love when you say my whole name like I’m in trouble.”
Her eyes squeeze closed, but a smile follows along with her stance softening. “Old habit.”
“Come join me like old times.”
This time I can see the debate—her eyes flashing between the water and me, then behind her like her father’s going to catch us. “It’s only us. No one has to know.” I zip my lips and wait.
The debate is over, and she comes back onto the dock, looking down at me. “Feel any fish in there? I hate when they touch me.”
�
��I’ll keep them away.”
A smile that starts small grows. “You were always good about that, but I’m not stripping down in front of you.”
“There’s not an inch of your skin that I haven’t seen, or licked, or tasted, Delilah Rae. So that dress, although pretty, doesn’t erase the memory of what’s under it. But if you’re scared—”
“Fine.” Yup. She’s riled up all right. “I’m coming in.”
Mission Distraction is complete. She peels off that dress like it offended her and without an embarrassed bone in her body, she stands on that rickety dock in mismatched bra and underwear as if I didn’t think she was already the sexiest creature to walk this world.
“Like what you see here, Koster?”
Nodding, I reply, “I do,” then laugh. “Now get in here, Noelle.”
She jumps in and I swear she cannonballs on purpose to splash me as if that will cool down what’s heating up between us. What she doesn’t seem to understand is I love her moxie.
Her head pops up, and she wipes at the hair stuck to her face. A wide carefree grin caters to her expression and she laughs.
“Feels good, right?” I ask.
“It does.” She swims away a little and asks, “So, now that you got me in here, what are you going to do to me?”
Tease. I lunge forward to swim after her. She squeals and takes off swimming into the moonlight-speckled waters. I reach her feet, grab her kicking ankles, and pull. This beauty lands right in my arms, and I hold on to her flailing body until she settles and her laughter softens. Her breathing deepens when our eyes meet, just like mine does. But I can’t will myself to laugh, to enjoy the moment, or to say anything.
My bravado a minute earlier gets caught in my throat, and I look at her while exposing my inner thoughts—she can still bring me to my knees with that look in her eyes, and I’d happily kneel before her. I caress her slick skin, well aware that these curves are dangerous when wet.
“Jason?” she whispers.
“Mm?”
The playfulness returns to her eyes as her hands grace my shoulders. “Why are you holding me?”
“I don’t have a good reason.”
“Nothing at all?” she asks, appearing hopeful.
“No reason other than I want to hold you again.”
A look of relief crosses her sweet face, and her legs drop from my arms to make their way around my middle. “It would be bad if we kissed.”
“Would it?”
“So bad.”
“I never claimed to be good.” I pull her body against mine, and lean in, closing my eyes. Our lips touch and our breaths still. Our bodies float with minimal effort. Touch turns into a caress and I press harder, needing to feel her lips against mine again. Needing all of her against me again. God, I’ve missed this. Her. Her kisses. Her breath mingling with mine. Her soft body against the hardness of mine. No woman ever felt right, and now I know why. She was made for me.
But before we get in too deep, she pulls back and swims to the other side of the dock. “It’s getting late. I think we should call it a night.”
I swim a bit longer, watching as she climbs up the ladder. She grabs her dress and slips it over, leaving it unzipped. Looking down at me, she says, “Whatever that was, we can’t do it again.”
What the hell? “Why not?”
“I’m not in my right mind when I’m around you. Add wine and it’s not wise.”
“For who? You or me?”
Slipping on her shoes, she says, “I blame it on the moonlight.”
“The moon was just an innocent bystander. It’s the sunlight we need to be wary of. The light of day often reveals more truth than we need to know.”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She takes a shaky breath. “You can see yourself home. I’m sure you know the way back.”
“That’s it?” I ask, waving my arms through the water.
“Yes.”
She starts walking away, so I swim to the ladder and get out. “I can drive you back to the house.”
“I know my way.” She waves overhead and says, “Thanks for dinner.”
“You barely ate.”
She doesn’t turn back this time or respond, and I’m standing there confused by what went wrong. The kiss? The conversation? The confession? Fuck that. This isn’t the Delilah I once knew. She never ran from her problems. Is that what I am? A problem for her?
Screw that.
I grab the blanket and with everything inside, pick it up and set it in the back of the truck, except the wine, which I take with me. I stumble to the driver’s side while putting my boxers on and hop in the truck to take off after her. She’s not gotten far, but far enough for her to not hear me until I’m much closer. Flashbacks of our breakup and her stubborn side whip through my mind. I’m not going to let that get the best of us again. This time we’re dealing with our issues head-on. I pull beside her and drive at the pace of her stride. “I have half a bottle of wine to kill. Care to join me?”
Taking the bottle from me, she stops to take a swig. “I know what you’re doing, Jason Koster.”
“What am I doing, Delilah Noelle?”
She points at me. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
I put the truck in park, and lean my elbow on the door through the open window. “Why would I want to do that? And since when do two glasses of wine get you drunk?”
“I don’t drink much anymore, but you wouldn’t know since you’ve been off doing only God knows whatever you’ve been doing.”
“Hop in and I’ll drive you back.”
“I don’t want you to drive me back. I’m perfectly fine with the stars and this wine.”
“If you’re so fine, why do you sound mad?”
She stills, her chest rising and falling with her feelings trapped inside. I know her. I remember all her moods and swings that maneuvered her through them. Delilah was never a girl to complain and always dealt with everything straight on, but she’s not her usual self. She’s holding back, and I hate it. Popping the door open, I step out—wet boxers and all. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.” Her shoulders fall in defeat. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, she brings the bottle to her lips, but I catch it, and lower it back down. Holding her by the wrist, her eyes have lost some of her fire that always burned inside, and she replies, “We broke up. That means you have no rights to make demands of me.”
“I never wanted to break up, Delilah. I never wanted to make demands of you. I just wanted you.”
“But you left me,” she whispers.
Why does she feel I left her? I left when she started dating Cutler. I may have put distance between us with the transfer, but my heart stayed behind. “I’m back. I’m here now. Let’s forget the past and enjoy this night.”
“This night? Is that because you’re only giving me one?”
“No, it’s because I’d take all your time if you let me, but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“What am I ready for?”
“This.” I move in and close the space between us. This time our lips don’t touch. They crash into each other’s. Her arms move around my neck, and I slide my hands down the sides of her wet dress, feeling those dangerously sexy curves. Just when I feel her resolve slipping, I reach around my back and take the bottle from her hands.
Our lips part, and she whispers against my lips, “I missed you more than I should.”
“There’s nothing wrong with missing me. I missed you more than you’ll ever believe.”
A smile that endears me even more to her every time I see it appears. Leaning back, she looks into my eyes while keeping her arms securely around me. “Try me.”
“Let me show you.” I drop the bottle to the ground and kiss her.
And then I kiss her again, cupping her face in my hands and holding her to me. This time our kiss is gentle, a familiarity in the feel and flow of the movement. Our lips part and our tongues reunite with a soft caress a
nd then more—deeper as if staking claims that can be staked without repercussions. We both know that can’t happen, but in this kiss, we pretend it can. We pretend we can do this like we used to and the outside world doesn’t exist.
Backing her up against the truck, this time I pull back and say, “Let me take you home.”
She knows what I mean. My body gives me away as I press against her. “I bet my sister I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
I chuckle. “As much as I love a good cuddle after sex, I love to win a bet more. No sleeping together then.”
“What? No.” I hear the plea in her tone, and feel the way her body moves against mine.
“Oh, don’t worry, honeysuckle. When I say sleeping, I mean the slumbering kind of actual sleep. I plan on keeping you wide awake all night.”
A smile slips into place and her head falls back with laughter. “You always knew the way to a woman’s heart.”
“I might want your heart, but tonight, I want everything else.”
She laughs again. “I thought you were going to say you want my sex.”
“When we hit the portion of the night that we start quoting songs from the nineties to get laid, it’s time to go.” Nodding toward the cab of the truck, I step back. “C’mon. The mosquitoes are brutal tonight.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to the cab and open the door. When she’s safely inside, I jog back around and steer the truck, getting us back to the farmhouse. When I cut the engine, the sounds of the cicadas surround us again. The light from the front porch barely reaches us. She looks over at me and, in that moment, I can see something so tragically beautiful in her eyes.
She asks, “Would you like to come in?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” That’s all the go-ahead I need to get out and help her down. The wet cotton of her dress clings to her body. What a fine pair of drowned rats we are. I don’t lock my truck, but I do grab my clothes out of the back along with the blanket holding our food.
I follow behind her. Suddenly all the fun is gone, and we’re left with the questions we should have asked and answered back on that dock. Her fight has slipped into the night and my stance on not having sex with my ex tonight returns. We have too much to work through to put ourselves at risk again. The quiet between us is unnerving, the doubts coming back, so I stop on the porch just as she enters the house. “Delilah?”