The Closer

by Rhonda Nelson

  It had taken her father less than an hour to make the necessary repairs and, because she hadn’t wanted an audience when they ultimately parted ways, she’d asked him to bring her home. She preferred to lick her wounds in private.

  “What time are you supposed to meet the Montwheeler rep?” she asked.

  He swallowed. “Seven. He’s got a red-eye flight back to Angola.”

  Seven. Right. If he didn’t leave in the next few minutes, he’d be late, Jess thought, sliding her suddenly shaking palms over the front of her jeans. Oh, Jesus. This was going to be much harder than she’d anticipated.

  Evidently her expression betrayed her, because his face was suddenly anguished, his gaze helpless and concerned. He took a step forward. “Jess, I—”

  She bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We both know how this has to p-play out. You’re there and I’m here and that’s not going to change.” She fought back tears and lifted her chin. “We’d only make it work long enough to become more invested, and then we’d be in for double the heartache when it inevitably...didn’t.” She felt her lips tremble with a sad smile. “You know I’m right,” she said, her gaze clinging to his. “I’m not saying anything that hasn’t already crossed your mind.”

  He didn’t deny it because he couldn’t. She knew him too well.

  He shook his head, blew out a breath, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, lifting his massive shoulders, his gaze tormented.

  “Say that you’ve had a wonderful time, that you’ve enjoyed my company, that you wish me well and that you’ll see me soon.”

  His gaze sharpened with a question.

  “I’ll know that it’s a lie,” she said, hugging her arms to her middle. “But I’d prefer it to goodbye.”

  Griff finally nodded, lessened the distance between them and hugged her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist, breathed in the scent of him, the feel of him, determined to commit it to memory.

  He drew back to look at her, framed her face with his hands and gently stroked her cheeks. His gaze caught and held hers. “I’ve had a wonderful time,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed your company, I think that you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life and knowing you has made me a better man.” A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “I’m ad-libbing at bit,” he confided. “It’s been an honor and a privilege getting to know you. You’ve touched my life more than you will ever know. I wish you well, Jessalyn Rossi.” He bent and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, could feel him trembling beneath her hands. Finally—horribly—he drew back. “I’ll see you later.”

  And then he was gone. She watched him walk to the door, heard him descend the steps and listened as the gravel popped beneath his tires as he drove away.

  She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. He’d told her what she meant to him, but she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him what he meant to her. And now it was too late.

  She sat carefully on the edge of her sofa, dropped her head into her hands and let the tears fall, quiet sobs racking her body until exhaustion finally claimed her. She awoke the next morning to the sound of a ringing phone and a yowling cat, her face sticky with salt, her eyes puffy and swollen.

  She scrambled to the phone and checked the display. Her father. She hadn’t expected Griff to call—he’d respect her wishes—but couldn’t deny the pinprick of disappointment when it wasn’t him.

  “Jess, could you come down to the store?” her father asked. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  She rubbed her eyes, felt her stomach lurch. “Can it wait, Dad? I’m feeling a little queasy this morning.” And beat up and gutted and wretched.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said regretfully. “It can’t.”

  She swallowed a sigh, pushed her hair away from her face. Oh, well, she thought. Back to business as usual.

  The world waited for no one, least of all the heartbroken.

  * * *

  THOUGH HE’D NEVER been one to feel sorry for himself, Griff stared at the television, nursed a tumbler of scotch and decided it was about time he tried the sensation out.

  He was miserable and he was going to allow himself to be miserable for a little while. Leaving Jess had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done, probably because it had felt so...unnatural. He wasn’t supposed to leave her. She wasn’t supposed to be away from him. She was supposed to be by his side, under his arm, in his bed. But he’d done what she’d asked because he’d known she was right. But if this was right, then what the hell did wrong feel like? What did—

  A knock sounded at his first door, cutting him off midtirade. He frowned and set his glass aside. He hadn’t expected company. Both his mother and sister were at work, and Justin was attending a college-preview day at the University of Georgia. He fully expected to hear all about it later—and looked forward to it—but there wasn’t anyone else he could think of who’d show up unannounced.

  Unless it was... His heart jumped into an irregular rhythm. Jess?

  He lengthened his stride, reached the door and peered through the peephole.

  Shock detonated through him. Not Jess.

  Priscilla Wicklow.

  Despite everyone’s best efforts to stay out of each other’s way, he’d seen her at the hospital, hovering at Justin’s side. Feeling more than a little off balance, Griff cautiously opened the door. “Priscilla?”

  She smiled nervously. She looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her, Griff noticed. Her hair was clean and styled, but lacking shine. She was quite pale and her skin seemed slack on her bones.

  “I know that I’m the last person you ever expected to see on your doorstep, Griff, but I would really appreciate it if you’d allow me to talk to you.”

  He waited for the old resentment to surface, the anger he’d carried with him since he was thirteen years old, but it didn’t come. He nodded. “Come on in,” he said, ushering her inside.

  She made the tentative walk down his hallway, then waited for him to ask her to sit down before taking a seat.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, still wary of this visit. Honestly, if she was here to lobby on behalf of his father, then she’d better not get too comfortable. That was never going to happen.

  She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  “What can I do for you?” he asked. Better to get this over with, whatever it turned out to be.

  She glanced nervously at him, hesitated. “I’ve rehearsed this in my head a thousand times over the last six months,” she said, looking heavenward. “And now that I’m here and it’s time—” she swallowed and lifted a frail shoulder “—I don’t know where to start.”

  While he pitied her, he didn’t know where either.

  She sucked in a breath, presumably for courage, then turned to face him once more. “I’m dying, Griff,” she said.

  Out of everything she might have said, that particular revelation had never occurred to him. He was stunned, utterly astounded.

  “Pancreatic cancer,” she said. “They found it when Justin got sick, when I was tested for a match.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, still reeling. “Are you certain? Have you consulted a different doctor? Gotten a second opinion?”

  Her lips tugged into a sad smile. “And a third and a fourth. It’s inoperable and I decided against treatment because I knew I’d need to see Justin through his illness. He doesn’t know,” she added. Her gaze turned inward and she gave her head a little shake. “I can’t think of how to tell him.”

  He couldn’t either and he couldn’t begin to imagine the pain his brother was about to go through. Poor kid. He—

  “Your father does know. And he’s left, again, this time for good, I imagine.” />
  Again? For good? But... Ah, he thought, remembering Jess’s remark. If your father has been such a wonderful dad to him—when historically he’s proven that he’s not—then why is Justin trying so desperately to have a relationship with you? Is it just because you gave him the kidney? Or is it something else?

  She leaned forward. “I’m not here to make excuses for myself,” she said. “But there is something that I want you to know. I didn’t know your father was married,” she said. “I didn’t find out until after he’d left, after I was pregnant. I know that doesn’t absolve me of the hurt inflicted upon your family, but I do hope that it makes enough of a difference that you won’t hold my mistakes or your father’s against my s-son.” Her eyes welled with unshed tears. “Because, once I’m gone, he’s not going to have anyone. His father might not have divorced me, but he’s been gone from our so-called home more than he’s been in it. And he’s been around for Justin even less.” She leaned forward and clasped his hand, the strength in her fingers surprising him. “My boy is going to need you, Griff. You and your sister, if she’s willing. Can you be there for him?” she asked, her eyes blazing with hope. “Will you look after him? Please.”

  It took a minute for Griff to find his voice. “Of course I will,” he told her. “He’s my brother, isn’t he? He’ll always have a place with me.”

  Priscilla wilted with relief, her hand on his going slack and she nodded, tears of gratitude spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick. “You’re a good man. A good man,” she repeated.

  Griff didn’t know why finding out his father hadn’t been Husband of the Year or Best Dad Ever had surprised him, but it did. He’d always assumed that his father was an integral part of the family he’d abandoned them for, that he wouldn’t have left them for anything less.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  He’d simply maintained his true character, that of a lazy, undependable, cheating sack of shit.

  And yet, he knew his mother had still cared for him, knew that Priscilla did as well, or she’d have left him.

  “Can I ask you something?” Griff queried.

  “Of course.”

  He hesitated, not wanting to be unkind, but... “Why did you stay? If he was so horrible, why did you stay?”

  She smiled wearily, almost fatalistically. “I have asked myself that same question over and over again, and I suspect that my answer is the same as your mother’s.” She shrugged helplessly. “Because I love him,” she admitted simply. “I’m not proud of it. I wish that I was stronger, that I’d made better choices. But that’s the funny thing about love—you don’t get to choose, it chooses for you. And when the person you love loves you back—even if you know it won’t, can’t last—there is nothing more wonderful in the whole entire world. Nothing more powerful.”

  A tingling started in the balls of his feet and swept upward immediately following her explanation.

  You don’t get to choose—it chooses for you. And when the person you love loves you back—even if you know it won’t, can’t last—there is nothing more wonderful in the whole entire world. Nothing more powerful.

  He’d been wrong, Griff realized, his insides trembling. More wrong than he’d ever been in his life. So what if he wouldn’t get to see her as often as he wanted? So what if they lived in different states? So what if their relationship would be unconventional? This was Jess, after all, he thought wildly, and since when had she ever given a damn about convention?

  It was the time they’d get to be together that counted, that was special, and he damn sure wasn’t throwing it away on something as mundane as logic.

  He shot to his feet, smiled awkwardly. “Priscilla, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got somewhere to go.”

  “Of course,” she said, gathering her purse. He patiently herded her to the door. “Thank you, again, Griff. You can’t know what a comfort this is.”

  He smiled at her, ached for the journey she had ahead of her. “I’m glad I could help. I’ll be in touch,” he promised.

  She leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I’d like that very much.”

  He would, too, he realized as he watched her turn to go. The instant she left, he sprang into action, hurried to his room and started slinging clothes into a bag. He didn’t know how long he was going to be gone—however long it took to convince her—so he packed liberally and planned to call Payne from the road. He was between assignments at the moment and if anything came up, then surely another agent could handle it while he got this sorted out.

  He’d just buzzed through the apartment, killed all the lights and grabbed his keys when another knock landed against his door.

  Bag in hand, he swore violently under his breath and swung it open, prepared to send whoever it was packing.

  Jess.

  He blinked, staggered.

  “Do you have a minute?” she asked uncertainly. Her gaze dropped to his bag and her eyes widened. “Oh, you’re leaving. I’m sorry. I—”

  “I was coming to see you,” he said, his voice ringing strangely in his ears. God, she was lovely, simply breathtaking.

  “Coming to see me?” she repeated, looking equally shocked.

  “Yes, I was,” he said. “I was coming to tell you how wrong we were about us.” Remembering himself, he quickly stepped back. “Come in,” he said. “Please.”

  She nodded, and walked past him, her rosy scent trailing along behind her, and he breathed her in, felt his chest constrict with emotion. He dropped his bag, hurried around her and turned on a few of the lights he’d just extinguished.

  Rather than sit, she stood in the middle of the room, uncharacteristically nervous, her eyes haunted with wariness. “Before you tell me how wrong we were about us, would it be okay if I said a few things to you?”

  “You can say whatever you want to me, Jess.”

  She smiled a little and fidgeted. “The other day when you left my house, I realized that it was before I got to tell you what you mean to me, how you’ve made me a better woman.”

  He shook his head. Bullshit. She was phenomenal long before she’d ever met him. “I—”

  She scowled, chastising him. “You said I could do this, remember?”

  “I did,” he admitted. “Sorry, go on.”

  “I didn’t get to tell you that I had the most wonderful time of my life with you, that you make me feel like I can leap tall buildings in a single bound, or swing through the jungle from one vine to another, or any of the other things that superheroes do.”

  He grinned. Only Jess. “You mean like superhero guys do?”

  She bit the corner of her lip, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, like superhero guys, but kick-ass superhero girls aren’t nearly as prevalent or as awesome.”

  “What about Gladiator Girl?”

  She snorted indelicately. “What about her? All she’s got is a Trident of Truth and she’s powerless if a man touches her.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, but I’d rather fly.”

  Of course she would. He chuckled, unable to help himself.

  “Anyway, I didn’t come here to debate the merit of superhero men versus superhero women,” she continued impatiently. “I’m here because I needed you to know how special you are to me and how much I enjoyed being with you and how fabulous I think you are.” She smiled softly, admiration lighting her gaze. “You’re more than just criminally, unfairly handsome,” she said, “you’re a genuinely good guy. You’re a rare breed, Griffin Wicklow, and I...I just needed you to know that.”

  He swallowed thickly, touched, and nodded. “Thank you.”

  She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “Now it’s your turn,” she said.

  He frowned. “My turn?”

  “To tell me why we were wrong about us.”


  Oh, right. He’d been so overcome with her little speech, he’d momentarily forgotten himself again. Was that part of being in love? he wondered. Early-onset dementia?

  Because he was in love with her. Totally, completely, unequivocally.

  He looked up at her, his gaze moving over the dear line of her face. The achingly familiar slope of her cheek, the smooth brow, those unusual gray eyes, her lush mouth. “We were wrong about us...because I love you.”

  She stilled.

  He lifted a single shoulder. “There are more reasons, but ultimately that’s what it boils down to.” He swallowed and lifted his chin. “I’m in love with you and I’d rather spend whatever time I can with you than none at all. I don’t care where you live, or where I live, or how difficult it’s going to be. It only matters that I get to see you again.” He managed a grin, and peered at her, trying to gauge her expression. “I’m your ‘slathering hound,’ remember? And I’m not opposed to begging at your back door.”

  At long last a slow smile slid across her lips and lit her crinkling gaze. “You don’t have to beg, Griff.”

  Relief wilting through him, he sidled forward and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back, then tilted her head and pressed a kiss against his neck. “I’m in love with you, too,” she whispered. “Crazily so.”

  “Then we can be insane together.”

  She smiled up at him. “And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “As it happens, I’m going to be relocating to Atlanta.”

  He felt his eyes widen, happiness darting through him, and he gave his head a little shake. “What? Really? When?”

  “Really,” she said. “My dad met someone online, a woman who lives in an upscale retirement complex here in Atlanta. Twilight Acres,” she said. “Anyway, the reason he was so desperate to make sure the business was well on its feet was so that he could leave it to me without worrying about it failing. He’s moving here, to be with her.”

  “What about his agoraphobia?” Griff asked, still reeling from surprise.