by Jewel E. Ann
“You want me to stop being nice to everyone? That’s an interesting request. Can I ask why?”
Blinking back the tears, I cleared my throat and let my gaze attach to the crowd at the skating rink beyond his left shoulder. “It’s not fair to be all the things … and then … just …” My quivering lips pressed together.
“What is all the things?”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Not an inch. Not a breath.
It wasn’t just my heart—my entire existence seemed to be on the verge of crumbling.
“Elsie, look at me.” His finger lifted my chin.
My eyes closed—but not before a few tears broke free, sliding down my painted face. He didn’t want to carry my baggage.
I didn’t want to have baggage, and I didn’t think I did.
Until … Kael said those words. I had so much baggage, and it was tangled around my heart, constricting my chest, making it so hard to breathe.
“Say nothing or say everything.” He fed my words back to me.
I blinked open my eyes. Again, like the day at his house, he wiped away my tears.
“Nothing,” I whispered.
His brow wrinkled. “Why nothing?”
“Because I’m not ready to say goodbye. And everything would be too … final.”
“Why?” He kept prodding.
“Because I let you touch me too deeply. And it’s made me feel … which is what I wanted. It’s what I needed. I wanted to feel alive not …”
“Not what?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
My head inched side to side. “Nothing. I choose to say nothing.”
Kael took a few steps backward. “Now what?”
I shrugged. “We go back to your place and have sex. I go home. You sleep three hours, wake up, and do good things for people. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.”
His expression seemed to harden for a few seconds as he drew in a deep breath, held it, and blew it out his nose in a harsh sigh. “Why go to my place? You have a back room to your store. Don’t you have a backdoor entrance as well?”
He sounded different. Colder.
I didn’t like it.
I also didn’t want to say everything. I chose nothing. I made my bed—the bed where I wanted him to fuck me. And that was what he was offering me.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Just our no-strings-attached status quo.
I returned a barely detectable nod and reached into my handbag for the keys to my store. Kael followed my lead, keeping a short distance between us. No one was in the parking lot, so we easily slipped into the small, dark, storage room to Smith’s. As soon as the door closed behind us, I reached for the light switch.
Kael grabbed my wrist to stop me. I couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t a window or even a sliver of light from under the door. When I started to turn toward him, he grabbed my waist from behind, shoving me forward until my hands landed on a pile of boxes against the wall. With his chest to my back and my hands splayed onto the boxes, he ripped my scarf off, sucking and biting at my neck while his hands roughly unbuttoned my jeans.
The second he unzipped them, he curled his fingers around the waist and yanked them down my legs, taking my panties with them. The cold air arrested my skin, but the ripple of goose bumps didn’t last long. They didn’t stand a chance against his lips and hot tongue mapping a trail up my legs.
I couldn’t see one damn thing, but I felt him … his mouth and his fingers between my legs. My hands slid forward, gripping the edge of the box, my fingernails scratching the cardboard.
I didn’t think sex with Kael could feel more carnal than it did on Thanksgiving in the back of my Tahoe. I was wrong.
He wasn’t looking into my eyes. I wasn’t facing him. There was nothing personal or intimate about what we were doing. It was nothing but fucking.
No kissing.
No flirty glances.
No clinging to each other.
The moment felt as dark as the room.
But I couldn’t stop.
Like every time before that night, Kael knew what I wanted even if it wasn’t what I needed.
He willingly became my addiction—the needle, the narcotic.
He fed it.
He jumped off every cliff with me.
He was my highest high … and my lowest low.
No condom.
No questions.
No objections.
I sucked in a sharp breath when he entered me—one hand clenching my hip, one hand gripping my shoulder as he pounded into me.
Why?
Why didn’t it feel more wrong?
Why didn’t I feel used?
Everything in that moment was a metaphor for my life. Eyes wide open but blinded by the dark. Seduced by anything that felt like the opposite of the twenty-two years with Craig. Reveling in taking risks and equally as intoxicated by the idea of eschewing the moral code ingrained into my conscience.
It wasn’t a midlife crisis—it was a catastrophe on every level of my being. What initially felt like a quest for independence—a rebirth of my individuality—turned into the demise of my heart, the tarnishing of my soul. I didn’t lose myself from being married to Craig for twenty-two years; I lost myself when he died because he took such a huge piece of me with him.
I let him define me.
That woman I used to be didn’t need to be found. I needed to be redefined.
But … not by a man.
Craig made me feel stupid. He dismissed me. I gave him too much of myself, including my dignity.
Kael could give me an orgasm that made me temporarily lose all coherent thoughts—and he did.
He could make me desire sinful things—and he did.
He could add cracks to my already frail heart—and he did.
But he couldn’t define me. I didn’t need him.
I wouldn’t be his success or failure.
I wouldn’t be his crutch.
And I definitely wouldn’t be a forgone conclusion.
Never again.
The second I could open my eyes without them rolling back in my head … which was right as he eased out of me, I pulled up my panties and jeans. “Thanks.”
He chuckled. I couldn’t see him, but I heard his zipper and labored breathing. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to see if Bella needs anything before I head home. So … are you decent?” Blindly feeling around with my hands, I found the doorknob.
“As decent as I’ll ever be.”
I opened the back door and glanced over my shoulder, getting my first glimpse of Kael since we did … that. Pieced back together as if nothing happened, he straightened his beanie and followed me out the door. Again, he remained a good six feet behind me as we made our way to the square. When we turned the corner and rejoined the crowd, I peeked behind me one last time, but he had already headed left, and I was heading right.
Kael made no quick peek over his shoulder.
Not a second glance … probably not a second thought.
There was a reason I put my heart in a jar and stored it on the highest shelf—he couldn’t be trusted with it.
Neither could I.
If given the chance, I would have handed him the fucking jar.
Chapter Twenty-One
Reading my mind and reading between the lines were not the same things. One required an emotional connection, the other required consciousness.
* * *
Two weeks later …
In your forties, two weeks passed in a blink—unless you were missing someone. With the clock ticking down to the anniversary of Craig’s death, I was missing him, my boys, even Bella since I seemed to only catch her for a few minutes in the mornings before she headed out the door. Amie put in extra hours at her clinic to prepare for a little time off over Christmas and New Year’s. Meadow was my companion, a good companion.
Alone I could handle. After raising four children … and a hu
sband … alone time nurtured my soul. If I could make it to January, I’d be in alone time heaven. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t feel extra grief, guilt, and sadness every year as the anniversary of Craig’s death approached, but the first year felt the most raw.
Kael?
Well, I hadn’t seen him since Holiday Fest. I wasn’t necessarily avoiding him, but I also wasn’t going out of my way to run into him. And clearly he was going about his days in the same manner.
However, with the first snow in two weeks, his truck pulled into my driveway a few minutes after Bella left for school. There wasn’t a lot of snow, but he still made his three swipes just as I was heading out the door to take Meadow for her walk.
He stopped before backing all the way out of the driveway. I smiled, or at least tried, as I approached the door to his truck and released Meadow’s leash so she could sniff and do her morning business.
My heart tripped over itself as he hopped out of the driver’s seat in his usual jeans, boots, coat, and beanie. His beard looked shorter like he’d recently trimmed it, and that smile of his made it hard to find a deep breath.
I’d missed him too.
“Good morning.” He blew on his hands and rubbed them together.
I tucked a few stray hairs under my red stocking cap and let my smile have its way—all the way to my ears. “Morning. Thanks for this. I could have easily shoveled it.”
He didn’t respond right away, but after a few seconds, he nodded. “Yeah, but it was a good excuse to see you.” His words wrapped around me like my favorite sweater.
“I feel bad that you felt like you needed an excuse to see me.”
Instead of putting his hands on me, he shoved them into the pockets of his jacket. “I figured if you needed anything, you would have contacted me.”
Sex. If I needed sex.
When my gaze slipped from his, he cleared his throat. “And I know it’s getting close to the anniversary of your husband’s death. I thought you could use some space—time with your family.”
Finding his eyes again, I chuckled. “Thank you. I don’t have my family with me yet. Occasionally, I pass Bella in the hall or kitchen. My boys won’t be here for a few days, along with my parents. It’s just been me and Meadow.”
Kael nodded once. “I haven’t heard any rumors about your store closing. I’ve seen a few sale signs in the windows, but no chatter about it closing. Did you change your mind?”
“No. I’m going to announce it after Christmas and hopefully clear as much out as possible before the first.” I shrugged. “The rest I’ll donate. Whatever … right?”
A slight cringe formed along Kael’s forehead. “Elsie …”
“I don’t want it. The store. I never did. So don’t give me that look. Maybe you were the perfect excuse.”
The tension on his face didn’t seem to ease up any. “So what’s next?”
“I don’t know. I might make a quilt. I’ve started several over the past year. The walls could use a new coat of paint.” That melted a little tension from his face. “When Bella leaves for college, I’ll sell the house. It holds a million memories, but I only feel the bad ones. And that sucks. Craig’s … everywhere.”
“And that’s bad?”
Meadow heeled next to me as if to say, “Let’s go, Mom!” I smiled at her. “Yeah, that’s bad. Anyway … thanks again for clearing my driveway.”
“Of course.”
“I’d better get this girl walked so she doesn’t destroy the house while I’m at work.”
“Want some company?”
I blinked at him a few times. Yes. I wanted company. I wanted his company. But I couldn’t ignore the rumors that a simple walk would start.
“Um …”
“Let them talk.” He smirked.
I bit my lower lip and wrinkled my nose.
“Fine.” He closed his door and his boots scuffed down the driveway to the sidewalk. “I’m taking a walk. If we take the same route … so what?”
I giggled. “Your truck is parked in my driveway.”
“Let them talk,” he hollered as he continued down the sidewalk.
Rolling my eyes, I guided Meadow to follow his tracks. We trailed behind him for several blocks as he whistled “Jingle Bells” followed by “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” An unavoidable grin spread across my face. I had the normal appearance of walking my dog.
The yoga pants.
Sporty boots.
A dog.
Kael looked like his vehicle broke down, and he was walking to get help—whistling a tune.
Meadow veered off to the side to poop. I thought she did it at home—apparently I was distracted by Kael. I didn’t tell him to stop or wait. After all, we weren’t walking together. As she pinched off an enormous turd, I reached into the pocket of my jacket to get a poop bag.
“Not again …” I deflated.
“Is there a problem?” Kael turned around but kept walking backward, keeping us distanced.
“I don’t have a poop bag.” I glanced up to see a guy in his front window, sipping his coffee as my dog took a shit in his yard. There would be no kicking snow over the pile of steaming poop and running.
“Shit happens. Let’s go.”
I covered my mouth, so the homeowner didn’t see me talking. “He’s looking at me. I have to pick it up.”
“With what?” Kael laughed.
My nose wrinkled. “Meadow … why didn’t you do this in our yard?” I grumbled, bending down to scoop up a large pile of snow beneath the poop. Then I turned and headed back home, carrying the poop on the clump of snow like a stranded polar bear on a melting piece of ice. Time was of the essence with the sun peeking out, expediting the melting of the snow along with the heat of her turd.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Kael taunted me as he jogged to catch up. “Just drop it.”
My pace doubled. “I can’t just drop it. It’s frowned upon. Someone will see me.”
“You weren’t worried about anyone seeing you leave shit behind the day you were spying on me and Amber.”
“I wasn’t spying on you. I was hiding from you.”
“Same thing.”
“No. It’s not.”
“You were behind a tree … watching us. A classic case of spying.”
“Spying implies I followed you. Which … I did not.”
“Then why hide behind the tree? Why not just keep walking your dog and give us a wave?”
The snow was melting … too quickly.
“This is a stupid conversation.” I started jogging.
“You wiping Amber’s kiss off my lips … so fucking sexy.”
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see it. “Stop gloating.”
“Did you go on a date with the banker?”
“If I did … are you going to wipe his kiss off my lips?”
“Wow … you kissed him?”
“Do you care?”
“Not really.”
I turned and threw the turd at him. He ducked, avoiding the collision by inches.
“WOW! You threw that at me? What did I do?”
I glanced behind him at the poop. We were in front of my house, so it landed in my easement. “I’m not emotionally dead like you. I care. Sorry … I just do.”
“I don’t think I’m emotionally dead.”
“You are. You just said you didn’t care.”
He rested his hands on his hips. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted me to say.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s bullshit. I think you want me to be with other people, so you don’t have to worry about me emotionally clinging to you … so you don’t have to carry my baggage.”
Kael winced, and I turned, taking my emotionally-out-of-control self into the house before I said anything else, before I showed him all of my baggage.
Depositing my coat, mittens, and scarf onto the floor like I didn’t give a shit— and I didn’t—I kicked off my boots as the door opened behind me
. I closed my eyes. “Go. Save yourself.”
He sighed. “The baggage statement. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“You did. And that’s fine.” I shuffled my socked feet into the kitchen.
Moments later, I felt him at the threshold to the kitchen, eyes on me, but I kept my gaze out the kitchen window, hugging my arms to my waist.
“And I chose nothing,” I said, feeling every ounce of defeat from the previous year. “I chose to not ask you to carry one single bag of mine. I wanted the sex. I got the sex. And it was good. But I can’t stop. I can’t see the line. And maybe some of us just aren’t wired to see that line.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re too good!” I whipped around to face him. “This whole fucking town can’t stop talking about you, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Um … okay. I didn’t ask for anyone to talk about me. I think it’s just a small town, and everyone talks about everything.”
“Well, you don’t have to give them so much to talk about. You don’t have to shovel snow and rake leaves. You don’t have to be Mr. Handyman one day and drive old ladies to visit their daughters the next day. All the changing tires, loading Christmas trees, clearing windshields, and warming up cars … it’s insane. And it’s not fair!” My voice escalated to an outright yell, and he was only ten feet away.
He glowered. “You’re mad because I’m nice?”
I shook my head a half dozen times. “Not nice. You’re lovable.” The word lovable had never sounded so angry … so negative.
“What’s wrong with being lovable?”
After retrieving an apple from the produce drawer in the fridge, I turned toward him again, taking a big bite, hoping it would keep my mind and my emotions from spewing out of control. “I don w-ah of oo,” I mumbled over my huge bite of apple.
He tugged several times on his earlobe while scrunching his face. “Sorry. I didn’t catch any of that.”
I chewed … and chewed. Once I swallowed, my gaze fell to the floor. “I don’t want to love you.”