Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  “Thank you,” I said. My hand joined his holding the peas in place and with the small contact I could finally relax. His skin felt like a heating pad compared to the frozen peas. He was like the ocean itself standing in front of me, beautiful and powerful.

  My dad had risen from his chair and come over for a closer look. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I couldn’t seem to force my eyes from Jamie’s.

  “Guess I’ll go finish the yard then,” my dad said, going for the water dispenser in the refrigerator to fill up his water bottle before leaving out the back door.

  “You want to tell me what really happened?” Jamie asked.

  “Only if you promise not to overreact,” I said, holding his gaze.

  “I’m not sure I want to make that promise,” he said.

  “Jamie, please.”

  “Fine. Spill it.”

  “I was hanging out with Ally at the square," I said, feeling a little like I was walking through a minefield. "There were a bunch of people there from school."

  “Would you please get to the part where someone hit you?”

  “Derrick and I exchanged words. He got nasty. Said some things. I might have tried to gouge his eyes out.” I stopped and pulled Jamie's hand away from my face, the bag of peas along with it.

  “Derrick Nash did that?” The words were spoken barely above a whisper but they sounded like a volcano erupting. He’d made a promise and I assumed about now, he was regretting it.

  “Yes. But I was handling it, and then Michael showed up and—" I clamped my mouth shut, realizing I should have kept Michael's involvement to myself.

  “Michael.” The name came out of Jamie’s mouth hard and biting. “You were with Michael.” He spun away from me and threw the bag of peas in the sink. The plastic burst open and peas scattered over the stainless steel in a shower of exasperated plinks.

  “I wasn't with Michael. He was just there.”

  "Yeah, I bet he was," he said, keeping his back to me, hands gripping the edge of the sink.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means the guy wants to take you away from me, and he’ll do anything to be your knight in shining armor.”

  “I don't need a knight in shining armor," I said. "Derrick was mouthing off and I went after him first. He only retaliated in self-defense."

  Jamie snort-laughed and turned his head to look at me. "Six foot? Tubby guy? And that was two years ago."

  "Don't blow this into something it's not. It's over." For me anyway.

  The tension in the kitchen fizzed on the air and under my skin as Jamie simply looked at me. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest, emphasizing his thick biceps. They were about the size of cantaloupes.

  "What did Derrick say to make you go after him?" There was a sadness attached to the question, as if he already knew somehow my fight had been about him.

  "He called you a freak."

  "I've been called worse," Jamie said, remaining unfazed and unsatisfied. "What else did he say?"

  Because of course, Jamie knew it would take more than someone calling him a name to make me fly off the handle and start a physical altercation with a guy who outweighed me by a hundred pounds. Like he’d known I’d been lying about getting hit with a ball. I didn't want to tell him, and at the same time I did.

  "He called our baby a freak," I said, my voice so small it was a wonder that he heard me. He dropped his arms and walked over to me, resting his hands on either side of my thighs.

  “You remember the first day I kissed you?" he asked.

  I snorted caustically. “I remember everything about that day.” And I did. Every single second. Every feel.

  He almost smiled at my response, and I wanted him to. I craved his smile. I hadn't seen enough of his smile since he'd been back. Since he wasn't dead.

  “I got in trouble with Marshall,” he said with that same intense look in his eyes he always got when he talked about his life before his accident, as though each nugget of memory were a gift he thought never to get. “I wasn’t supposed to do anything during training to stand out too much. Marshall didn’t think it was good for the guys’ morale for me to be so much of a superstar. But that day, I knew you were watching and I couldn’t help it. I wanted to impress you. I needed you to accept me for what I was.”

  “Well it worked.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand, wincing at the tenderness in my cheek. “It was what? A few weeks before I spread my legs for you?”

  “Don’t.” His hands squeezed the counter. “It wasn’t like that with us.”

  “I know. But I was sixteen. I wasn’t ready.” No, I hadn’t been ready for someone like Jamie. I’d only thought I was.

  A sterile look passed over his eyes, as though I’d just delivered the worst insult. “I never forced you.”

  “You didn’t have to. I loved you, and I thought that meant I was ready for sex, but I wasn’t. And maybe because of all that’s happened, I’m less ready now.”

  “I’m not sure what you're trying to say, but I’ve already told you I’ll give you time. I won’t ask you to do anything you’re not ready for. I promise you that.”

  “I don’t know if…" I paused, afraid to say the wrong thing. "I don’t know.” I held out my hand because words were getting us exactly nowhere and I had so many I still needed to say and I wasn’t ready for that either.

  He stared at my hand a long time, and I waited in breathless anticipation for him to take it. Eventually, he wrapped it gently in his. I’d grown accustomed to the feel of his new hands, the velvety soft webbing, The skin between his fingers so thin it had a sheer quality. Utterly beautiful in a terribly sad kind of way. Our fingers would never entwine again. They would never meld in mutuality. His would always engulf mine in totality. While a part of me loved the protective gesture, the comfort his touch lent, a different part of me found it stifling. I wanted to be Jamie’s equal and through not fault of his own, the sight of my hand enveloped in his made me feel insignificant.

  He stepped forward and his scent surrounded me, salty and crisp and male. I should have pushed him away and told him we no longer fit. I no longer fit. I should have told him that me loving him wasn't enough.

  Coward that I was, I buried myself in his chest instead and wrapped my arms around his waist and held on. I opened my legs to give him room to get closer. My tongue darted out, tasting the skin on his neck, salty and achingly familiar. His pulse beat under my mouth and his heart thudded under my hand. At some point, his hands slid under my butt and he lifted me off the counter. My legs circled his waist and my lips found his mouth. I could feel how much he wanted me and I tensed, torn between pulling away and burrowing closer.

  “I can’t stop wanting you. I don’t want to. But I’m not a monster, Erin. I’m not an out of control beast. I’d never force you into something you didn’t want. I’d die first.”

  “I do know. And no more dying. I couldn’t bear it. But being with you like that would cloud things.” What I'd been so eager to do at sixteen now seemed so hard. Maybe it was because I knew if I took that step, like then, there would be no going back. I would be completely his again.

  Jamie pressed his forehead to mine and we both used the time to catch our breaths and still our pounding hearts.

  “I know,” he said, running his hand down my back. “I don’t like it, but I'd do anything for you, even not be with you.” He held me until the thundering in his chest subsided to a slow rhythmic thump. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  I pulled away and looked into his face. "Jamie…" Just say the words.

  “I’ll cook,” he added, bumping his forehead to mine.

  “You will?” I’d never known Jamie to cook anything.

  “Say yes.” His fingers ran down my cheek before he dipped his head for another kiss. “I just want to have dinner with you.”

  I wished at that moment we could go back. Go back to the
time before I'd gotten pregnant and I was simply a young girl experiencing first love. But we couldn't.

  I could have dinner with him, though. And then I'd tell him I didn't want to be married anymore.

  * * *

  Jamie stood on the beach with the sun setting at his back, looking for all the world like a mythical creature from Atlantis. Clothes did nothing to hide what he was. I hadn’t seen him this dressed since our wedding. I had the wild thought that maybe they were the same clothes he’d worn when we were married, and it broke my heart until I realized there was no way those clothes fit him anymore. Regardless, he was stunning in his white linen shirt. He’d left it untucked over a pair of pale blue pants, the sand and the sky his stage, merely props to his very existence.

  Not everyone saw him the way I did. I knew that. Ally had always thought him generally too big, too manly, too rough around the edges for her refined tastes. I’d always thought he was just right.

  He looked just right now, especially when his face cracked in an inviting smile when he saw me standing there watching. I started toward him, forcing my steps to remain unhurried, but somewhere after the fourth step my feet tripped over themselves until I gave up all pretense and I was running straight into his arms, and when he crushed me to his chest, instead of a welcome it felt like goodbye.

  Time stopped. All I knew was the beat of my heart next to his. I savored the feel of his body under my hands, his breath in my ear, the soft tickle of his hair on my cheek. When he released me, I instantly felt the absence of his warmth as my skin pricked under the cool breeze, surrounding me in his scent. His eyes drifted to the bruise on my cheek and the air grew almost frigid, then he seemed to catch himself and his eyes softened.

  “Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t there," he said and something sad passed behind his eyes, and I had no idea how to make it go away. I feared I would only make it worse. "I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from…"

  "Yes, you would," I said, leaning up and kissing his mouth, wanting to forget about anything that didn’t have to do with Jamie. For tonight anyway.

  “You look really good.” I ran my hand up the sleeve of his shirt. “I like the clothes.”

  “They make me look more civilized.” Teasing lit his eyes and the curve of his lips set a fire in my blood. This was the Jamie I used to know, the Jamie I fell so completely in love with.

  “You don’t have to look more civilized for me.” My fingertips skimmed over his cheek, tracing the delicate patterns of his new skin. He tried to hide it, but I felt him flinch under the touch.

  “Don’t I?“ He brushed my hand away.

  “You don’t have to be anything for me,” I said.

  “That used to be true.” The tip of his finger traced a path down one cheek and over my lips. They parted under the slight pressure. His eyes lingered on my mouth. “I don’t think it is anymore.”

  “Jamie…”

  “Don’t.” His lips swallowed my words. When he lifted his head, I wanted to scream at the injustice. God. Fate. That bitch, the Deep, whoever would listen. “Let me pretend. Just for tonight.”

  Pretending sounded good. I could pretend I was enough for him.

  His hair had grown enough a thick lock of it fell over one eye. I brushed it back, and let my fingertips run the length of his cheek and down the line of his jaw. He turned his face into my palm and pressed his lips to my wrist. Then his hand swamped mine and he led me toward the tent that was set up, canvas top rippling on the wind. He pulled open the flap and let me walk inside, following close behind. When the flap fell closed, it was like being inside a shell—a perfectly cozy, warm shell surrounded by the quiet language of the surf and the whisper of the wind.

  “Jamie, it’s beautiful.” He was beautiful and I was a fool.

  A table set for two sat in the center of the tent. White china and clear stemmed glasses glittered underneath a thread of twinkle lights over a white tablecloth. White orchids filled a vase. A space heater in the corner put off enough heat to cut the chill in the air.

  “You did this? All by yourself?” The glimmer in his eyes made him look younger. He relaxed under my obvious delight.

  “Maybe my mom helped a little.” He pulled one of the chairs away from the table. “Have a seat. We don’t want the food getting cold. My mom's experimenting with some dishes for her new restaurant."

  I eyed him over my plate of sesame-crusted tuna. "So you didn't actually cook this," I teased, taking a bite of the stir-fried vegetables.

  "I caught the tuna. Skinned it. Filleted it," he said, digging into his plate.

  "Basically you did everything but the actual cooking."

  "The food prep is the hard part," he said, stuffing a forkful of food in his mouth.

  He could have offered me corn dogs and tater tots and I wouldn’t have cared. I barely tasted it anyway. Food, even elaborately prepared tuna, seemed blasé with Jamie sitting across from me. He overwhelmed the small space. His presence demanded a bigger backdrop than an enclosed tent. He needed the world at his back.

  "Do I see a new career path in your future? I think you could pull off a chef's coat and hat."

  "Not hardly. And I've got a career path." The hesitancy in his tone had me looking up from my plate. There was a question in his eyes, as though he were asking permission.

  "Is that what you and my dad were talking about today?"

  Jamie took a last bite of tuna then set his fork on the table. “We were working out the new rules of my employment.”

  “So you'll keep working with him?” I asked, my heart doing a little flop. I don’t want you to. I want you safe.

  “Despite what happened, I enjoyed it.” His eyes fell to my cheek. “I like going after the bad guy. I’m good at going after the bad guy.”

  “Well, that’s good then.” I said, flaking the tuna with my fork.

  "What about you?" he asked, and I heard the slight fear in his voice.

  "What do you mean?" I reached for my glass of tea.

  "What do you plan to do, Erin?" My name sounded thin coming off of his lips, as though he could break it by uttering it. Break me.

  I forced myself to swallow. "Actually, I'm working on getting into college early. Spring semester."

  A little over two months from now. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when I told him my plan to leave Jamie. Clearly, he'd been torn. My dad loved me, but he loved Jamie too, and I knew he didn't like the idea of me hurting him. But in the end, he'd reached over and covered my hand, promising his support. And while I knew he sympathized with Jamie, there was a part of him that I thought was relieved.

  "Where?" Jamie asked.

  "FSU." I forced myself to hold his gaze, well aware I was treading in dangerous waters.

  "Tallahassee," he said, telegraphing his thoughts through his non-blinking stare. And then it was I who felt like I had some superpower, the ability to read his mind. Three hours away. Far enough inland that he couldn't easily visit.

  "Yes." I leaned back in my chair, my food forgotten. I couldn’t keep up this charade, acting like we would be together forever when for me that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t fair to him, not after all he’d been through. “Jamie, we need to talk.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand in his and it was like slipping it into a satin glove.

  “I know you have something you need to say, and I promise, I’ll be ready to hear it. Give it until the morning. Give me one night. Please.”

  He knew I was really here to break his heart. To break mine.

  I nodded because speaking was impossible, and I wondered if he were doing this on purpose to torture me. But if he was, it was a torture I would gladly endure. One more night belonging to him. One more night of him belonging to me.

  Conversation continued though it took a few minutes for us to regain comfortable ground. After I finally coaxed a smile and then a laugh from him, he wiped both away with his napkin and tossed it on the table.

 
“Wind’s died down. It’s a new moon. The stars will be out.” Jamie stood, offering his hand in invitation. I took it and he lifted me from my seat with a gentle tug. He held the tent flap open and I ducked through. He'd grabbed a blanket he'd brought with him and spread it out under the stars.

  The sand always seemed to glow whether the moon was out or not. Tonight the sky was all about the stars, and they glittered like tiny reminders off all the good and beautiful things in this world. I would forever look at the stars and think of Jamie.

  We sat on the blanket with him behind me, my back pressed to his front, the thighs under my hands unforgiving as if they'd been sculpted from marble.

  “I didn’t remember much of my life before when I was in the Deep, but I remembered the stars. I remembered this.” He angled his face to mine and his mouth brushed over my cheek. “Being with you like this.”

  I knew it was dangerous, but there was no help for it. I could no more stop myself from leaning up and pressing my lips to his as I could not take my next breath. We fell back on the blanket where my head found the pillow of his shoulder. “You are so warm.”

  He gathered me close, and I was seeped in the heat percolating under his skin. We quickly fell into an old pattern, one our bodies remembered. I unbuttoned his shirt, giving my hands better access to the skin underneath. He shuddered when my fingers traced the indents on his stomach, exploring the patterned skin the Deep had left on him. In one swift movement he flipped me over, reversing our positions with him above me.

  Everywhere his lips touched my skin sang. Everywhere his hands roved my heart swelled with need. He pushed one thigh between my legs, and I rocked against him, the pressure so sweet and intense I cried out.

  "Jamie." I needed to stop this, but Jamie’s hands, his mouth seemed to have stolen my will to do anything beyond feel. My hand splayed on his chest, small defense against his urgent onslaught, but it was enough that he lifted his mouth and stared down into my face, the glittering of want in his eyes matching the stars behind him.