The Light of Day

by Kristen Kehoe

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jake

  Laken walks out with me, stating that he needs to meet my girl and ask her what her intentions are. Since I know telling him no wouldn’t make a difference, I let him come, grinning when he gets a good look at her a few feet away and whistles under his breath.

  “Jesus, Shakespeare, maybe there’s something to this poetry reading you’re doing if you’re pulling in a girl like her. Christ, would you look at her? She’s got nicer tits than—”

  He quickly swallows back whatever he was going to say when my eyes cut hard and direct to his. “Right. Off limits, got it.”

  Then he’s walking up to her, holding out his hand and running his fool mouth about how much he’s heard about her. I roll my eyes when she looks at me, eventually pushing Laken out of the way so we can leave. “Okay, Chris, time to go.”

  “You kids have fun tonight, and be safe, huh?”

  Cora laughs and waves as I propel her in the opposite direction, ignoring Laken when he reminds me to use my other hand to give my left arm a break.

  “He’s a character,” Blue says as we reach her car and I laugh, throwing my bag in the back before stretching my legs out in the front seat.

  “More like he’s an idiot, but a goodhearted one.” I turn my head and smile at her as she starts the engine and heads out of the parking lot. “Where are we going?”

  She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and smiles. “I figured you were pretty tired since you’ve been on the road for so long, plus I didn’t know how much time you had, so I called in an order at Javier’s and thought we could pick it up and head for the apartment. How do tacos on the balcony sound?”

  I reach over and grab her hand, linking our fingers. “Perfect.”

  ~

  “Thank you, for what you did. I don’t know how you found him, but seeing my dad tonight...” I shake my head and sip from the beer Cora handed me when we walked through the door. “It was a trip. A really good one.”

  She smiles, her hair fluttering around her face as the slight breeze pulls at it. We’ve been here for just about an hour on the balcony, eating, catching up on things that have been going on. She didn’t mention my dad and maybe because of that, I know she understands just how much it meant to see him.

  “He reminds me of you. A little sadder, a little more unsure,” she adds, “but when you look at him you can see that he’s still got strength buried in there, enough to face a few demons and show his kid he loves him.”

  I nod, staring at her, my heart beating a mile a minute as everything I feel climbs to the surface and urges me to let it out. “I think I know a little bit about that.” And then I take a deep breath and plunge ahead, releasing everything that’s been building inside of me since that night nine months ago when I looked up and saw her for the first time. “The last time I was here, you had a lot of shit going on and a part of me was hurt and angry because I wasn’t the one who could make it better for you. I knew you had to do it alone, but still, I wanted to be the one you ran to and asked for help.”

  She sighs and brushes her hair back, looking out and over the city that’s both given and taken from her, and I watch her, mesmerized as always by what I see. “I’m going to meetings regularly now, and I’ve finished my twelve steps. When I last saw you… I was scared because I knew I needed to work things out on my own and deep down I knew that if you had been here, if we had still been together, I would have run to you instead of to that club. I would have leaned on you and let you make everything better because when I’m with you it doesn’t matter what’s wrong, all I feel is how right we are.”

  There are moments in your life when you finally understand what the writers who came before talked about. I understand the pain and loss and fucking loneliness that so many write about. As I grew from a child to a teen to an adult, I began to understand the physical pleasures that life had to offer, the way that they become addicting because, while you’re in the moment, nothing bad touches you. In college, I understood what it meant to have a family, a best friend even. But not until here and now did I ever truly know love.

  “What about now?” I ask her. “Do you still need to do it alone, or are you ready for me? Because I’m ready for you, Blue. I never should have walked away like I did and it only took one day apart from you to realize that I’m more than my past, more than my sport. I’m a man, Cora, and I’m yours. You’re my heart,” I tell her and before I finish she’s rising, shifting so that she’s in my lap and her forehead is pressed against mine, her eyes close as we breathe together.

  “Welcome home,” she says and I tilt her head up to take her lips.

  Reminiscent of all those nights when we were here just like this, my chest expands until it feels as though I’ll burst if I don’t say the words. “I love you,” I whisper against her lips, then again, as I brush her temple, her eyelids, her cheekbones, down to her lips where I kiss her before standing, keeping her cradled against my chest as I walk us inside and down to our bedroom.

  Her eyes are wide and wet when I set her on her feet but, unlike the last time we were together, it’s not because this is goodbye; it’s because we both know that whatever our lives were before, whatever got us to this moment, it was worth it. This, right here, is our beginning.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I tell her and she laughs, unexpectedly nervous as I cup her face in my hands and swipe at the small tears that have fallen. “I love you,” I tell her again, and this time, her smile is brilliant, blinding even as the tears continue to fall.

  “I believe you,” she says, and then we’re all heat and clashing tongues, her eager hands pulling at my shirt as I grip the low neckline of her barely-there tank top and rip. Her shock comes out muffled against my lips, but I don’t give her time to protest before I’m filling my hands with her lace clad breasts and backing her toward the bed.

  We break our kiss as she shoves my shirt up and over my head and I take that as an invitation to move my lips to her collar bone and down, across her belly to her shorts, which I quickly discard, before moving back up the side of her ribs and back to her breasts, yanking down the cups of her bra until I can take one into my mouth.

  I hear her moan, feel her writhe against me, and I snake my hand down until I cup her, working until her pants become screams and my name falls from her lips even as she falls from the cliff I was holding her on. Rolling, I shed my clothes and roll on a condom, moving back to her where I begin to touch her all over, ruthlessly driving her until her whimpers are heady gasps and she’s moving beneath me. When I know I can’t wait any longer to feel her, I say her name, waiting until her eyes open and focus on mine.

  “I love you,” I tell her and rock inside, thrusting deep until we both cry out. And then I say it over and over, rolling so she’s on top and I’m lost in the glory that is Cora as she rides us both to ecstasy.

  An hour later, I’ve had her again, and though it kills me, I’m already past curfew and so Cora and I rise from bed so she can take me back to where the team’s staying. She slips from bed to pull on a shirt and I sit where I am for a moment, needing to see her one last time. When she turns her back, I focus on the thin black scroll that’s now etched to the left of her spine, starting near her shoulder blade and stopping just before the curve of her waist.

  Without a word, I stand and walk over to her.

  Tomorrow is another day. Scarlett and Rhett, the love story we all wanted them to finish.

  She doesn’t turn around, just stands there while I reach out to touch the words, my fingers tracing them as she once traced mine, the feelings I gave to her on our last night together that she made a permanent part of herself.

  “I Googled that quote you left me, then I watched the movie and I realized how perfect these words are, not just for us, but for me. I can’t live afraid that tomorrow is going to be the day that something hurts, or that I fail. I can’t live fearing the future instead of looking forward to it, and part of living for
tomorrow is realizing that some love stories don’t have to end, that there’s always the possibility of tomorrow if we can’t be together today.” Now she turns and I let my fingers slide across her skin and rest at her hip even when her shirt falls back down. “I want to live, Handsome Jake and I want to do it knowing that, whatever happens, we have tomorrow together.”

  They say that the blues are melancholy. To sing the blues, one has to feel them, to know them. I’ve known the blues of sadness, of anger, of despair; now I know the color blue, the swirling, deep, endless blue that pulled me from the wreckage and loved me. Holding her right here and right now, I know that no matter what lies ahead in my career, the greatest part of my future is staring back at me, giving me the kind of love I could only dream of.

  “I love you, Handsome Jake. More than I ever thought possible.”

  Bringing her close, I hold her against me and know that no matter how many times I have to leave, I’ll always come back to her. She’s my port in the storm, my light in the dark, and I’m never letting her go.

  Epilogue

  Cora

  I’m standing with my hand in Jake’s, getting ready to knock on the door to my parents’ house. We’ve been invited to dinner and, although I haven’t said it aloud, we both know I’m nervous. One glance at him next to me shows me that if he’s feeling the same fluttery queasiness that I am, he’s got a much better poker face.

  “Relax, Blue, it’s just dinner. Parents love me, I promise.”

  “Oh yeah? How many parents have you met?”

  His grin is pure and fun and does the trick in easing my nerves slightly. “Got me there. But I figure if I can get Mia and A.J.’s seal of approval, well, parents might be easier.”

  Since it’s true, I lean over and kiss him, lingering a little bit as I soak in his scent and feel amazed that he’s next to me. He came home a month ago after his season ended, and we’ve decided to give this thing a real shot. He’s training for next year as he moves up in the Minor League world (whatever and wherever that might be), along with taking some online classes to begin his Master’s in English, while tutoring kids at some of the high schools. I’m still working at the salon, but I’m also taking online classes in business, just in case I ever feel like trying my luck with my own shop.

  Mia is getting her Ph.D. in Physical Activity, Nutrition, and Wellness at ASU, so Ryan is based there with her until his season starts again in January like Jake. They’ve been to visit us once, and are planning on coming again in November for Thanksgiving since Mia knows I want to spend as much time as possible with my family.

  Before then, though, I’m introducing my parents to Jake, because I love him, and I’m coming to realize just how much I love them, and vice versa. My mom’s having good and bad days, but her good days are starting to be really good, and she’s even ventured out of the house with Sassy some, surprising me one day by showing up at the salon and asking to have coffee with me on my lunch break. Now, I’m introducing her to my boyfriend, the person who made me realize that life, with all its good and bad, is always worth fighting for.

  I try to remember that as I reach up and knock on the door, smoothing my hand down my floral print mini, even while scolding myself to calm the hell down.

  Both of my parents answer the door, and before the shock wears off enough for me to say anything, my father’s holding out his hand to Jake, bringing us both inside as my mother smiles and steps back. When we’re in the foyer, I turn to embrace my mom and introduce Jake when I spot the bedazzled name-tag over her heart. Raising my eyebrow, I look at her and her smile gets a little mischievous as she motions to a table just behind her.

  “Our first activity for the night is nametag making — you know, kind of like my cheat sheet so I don’t have to keep asking. Feel free to add hobbies and interests as well.”

  I’m stunned and unsure how to respond, but I don’t need to because Jake takes care of it, laughing even as he leans forward and introduces himself, kissing her on the cheek and then following her as she tells him he better make a nametag quickly before her memory goes. She says this all with a small bit of laughter and I find my own laugh bubbling out.

  “She’s happy — happier at least,” my dad says as he comes to stand next to me.

  I nod. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen her like this.”

  “After you talked with her in the hospital, I think she realized that whatever was happening now, and whatever happened in the past, the most important thing is taking back everything she can, and that means time with her family and it means laughing and being silly, all of those things we forgot to do the first time around.”

  I watch her with Jake, laughing as she tells him he doesn’t have nearly enough sparkles on his tag, and then I link my hand through my father’s elbow as he holds it out. “What do you think, kiddo, should we go join them?”

  I nod and walk with him, because this time I won’t be sitting on the side and waiting for something better. This time, I’m going to live in the here and now, in the light and the love and the laughter that is my family, because I’ve seen the darkness, and I don’t ever want to go back.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you, first and foremost, to my husband, Jan, for believing in me and helping me realize just what words were living inside of me. Thank you to my family, for loving me and always reading my work. Thank you to Sara Huggins, for being that friend who supports me unendingly, by way of funny cat pictures and sexy stories, and just hilarious text messages. Pashugs, you’re the best.

  Thank you to Caroline Smailes from BubbleCow Editing (www.bubblecow.net). Your help, your encouragement, and your beautiful comments made this manuscript better than I knew it could be. Thank you to James at GoOnWrite.com for the beautiful cover that brought Cora to life, and to Candace Robinson at Candace’s Book Blog and Book Promotions and all other bloggers who participated in the cover release. Your tweets and support are invaluable.

  Lastly, thank you to the people in my life, students, friends, strangers, who have shared their stories with me and trusted me with them. As it says in the beginning, this book is for anyone who’s ever struggled to find tomorrow, for anyone who’s ever forgotten what love feels like. Here’s to you and your strength. Remember to keep living, taking it one day at a time.

  xoxo

  Kristen

  www.kristenkehoe.com

  https://twitter.com/KKehoeAuthor

  https://www.facebook.com/authorkristenkehoe

  Keep reading for an excerpt from my next novel, title not yet decided.

  Release date TBD.

  Prologue.

  Posie.

  There’s music inside all of us, our thoughts and dreams and fears strumming the chords of life and producing a soundtrack to our lives. Every track a musician cuts is unique in tune and tempo, each album or compilation produced a diverse walk through the musician’s soul for a specific period of time, opening the listener up to the purest sound one can hear: that of the heart.

  Those of us who are lucky hear that music over and over, each tune created speaking volumes about the experiences we’ve had, the decisions we’ve made, the people we’ve loved, even those we’ve lost. The even luckier ones get to dance to their tune, and that’s what I do.

  I don’t hear music, I feel it. I feel it in my bones and the way they have become pliable, even bendable, so manipulated for so long it’s as if they’re not real. I feel it in my muscles, their memories so much greater than mine as they bend and twist, stretch and leap, creating the music within my blood. And I feel it in my heart, the one place that’s truly mine untouched, the music that tells me when someone’s hurt, when someone’s sad, when someone’s so happy they can’t breathe. One look, one listen, one movement and my heart hears it all, giving those tunes to my legs to put into motion.

  The music inside all of us pushes us until we feel, until we dance, until we see that life is heartbreaking and beautiful and meant to be heard.

  Ch
apter One

  Posie

  I’ve been a dancer long enough to understand choreography and moves instinctively. When to arch my back, when to plié and push with enough force to help my partner with a certain lift. When to school my features and let my heart and my face feel what the story is telling me. With this background, unfortunately, it also makes it easy to spot when something is choreographed rather than natural, like this moment right now.

  I’m on my back, gorgeous nude peep-toes still on, black lace bra artfully framing my breasts as they peak through my black jumper that’s unbuttoned to the waist, a beautiful specimen hovering over me as he wistfully sweeps his my hair from my face. Since he’s been doing that for the past two minutes and twelve seconds (now thirteen), and it took him twenty-three moves, fifteen kisses, and six chin grasps to get me in the state I’m in now, I’ve forgotten about the moment and am more concerned with keeping the time.

  Kiss, one, two, three. Small chin nip, hip roll, four, five, six. Light body skim, another hip roll, eye smolder, lower the forehead until it rests on hers, close your eyes and hold the count down from three, two, one. I’ve partnered with the beautiful Puerto Rican above me enough times in our year of dancing in the same troupe to understand the look he gives me when our eyes meet and what it means: let’s do it once more from the top.

  Miguel is nothing if not thorough…though there are parts of me that were begging for attention earlier and have since gone for a water break and a quick nap.

  While he gyrates and swipes, his lips puckering and suckling ever so gently at various spots on my neck, my ears, my chin, I realize there’s nothing really hitting me when he shifts himself into the cradle of my thighs. I mean, there’s something hitting me, because even though this seduction he has down is actually a routine, Miguel’s a sensual guy, and seeing tits, any tits, is bound to get him worked up, but the feeling I get when it does hit me isn’t a zing of desire or need, it’s more like an annoying pair of underwear digging in where they don’t belong. Not exactly a girl’s dream for her Friday night fun.