A warm glow filled Rae’s chest. She rubbed her thumb over Jori’s knuckles. “Congratulations to you, too. I’m proud of you.”
Jori grinned and squeezed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Once Axel had taken off across the parking lot and Jori had claimed the driver’s seat, Rae leaned across the gearshift to give Jori a kiss.
“Where do we pick up Baylee? She’s at the childcare center, right?”
Jori gave her a sideways glance. “I was kind of hoping to get you to myself, so I signed her up for a few extra hours. I’ll come back and get her later.” She looked away and stared straight ahead at the road. “Is that okay? I’ll be looking for work and leaving town soon and…”
“How many hours do we—”
“All afternoon.”
“Does this involve going up to your room?”
Jori laughed. “That sounds lovely, but I was actually thinking more like a walk. If that’s not too tame for you.”
“Who says a walk has to be tame?”
Jori grinned and shook her head. She was thinking about it.
Maybe Rae was being unfair, though, flirting when they had more serious things to discuss. Like their future.
In less than ten minutes they were back at the lodge and headed into the woods. Rae found a fallen tree branch like the one she’d used as a walking stick not long ago lying across the path. She picked it up and planted one end in the dirt, but rather than lean on it for balance, she danced around it like Fred Astaire with his top hat and cane, showing off because finally—finally—nothing hurt.
Her heart wasn’t in it, though. In a few days she’d be gone. It was what she’d been working toward and looking forward to every single day since she’d been injured, and now that she was ready to dance, she wasn’t happy. Because she didn’t want to leave Jori.
“I have an audition in New York next week,” Rae said.
“So soon,” Jori said expressionlessly.
“You’re leaving, too. You’re done with school.”
“I knew it was going to happen eventually—both of us leaving—but I’ve been trying not to think about it.” Jori stared at the ground and folded her arms across her chest. She blew out a frustrated breath. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t going to give up her career for Jori, and she couldn’t ask Jori to follow her around the country and limit her own career before it even started. She wasn’t even sure they had that kind of relationship. She was sure they didn’t have that kind of relationship. “Maybe we can date long-distance?”
The thought of being apart made her sick to her stomach, but people dated long-distance all the time. It could be done.
“We’ll figure something out,” Jori said.
God, they should have talked about this sooner.
They continued along the trail in silence. Outbuildings gave way to unbroken stands of maple and oak and hickory, but Rae was too busy watching the ground to avoid twisting her ankle on knobby tree roots to pay much attention, and besides, Jori was leading the way so all Rae had to do was follow. When she did occasionally glance up it was not to admire the forest but to appreciate Jori’s loping gait. Her gait—right. Because gait sounded better than derrière. She did love the way she moved, but this went beyond dancerly appreciation. She didn’t know when she’d see her again, and her familiar shape was too good a sight to miss.
Did that make her shallow? Too bad. It would certainly be easier to live apart if she were one of those people who only had high-minded thoughts and loved on a non-embarrassing intellectual plane, like women were supposed to. But she didn’t love that way. Her love was as messy and physical as all her emotions, and if that made her crass, so be it. If anyone thought that meant she didn’t love Jori’s mind and heart and personality and spirit even more than she did her body, they were wrong.
Jori turned and touched Rae’s shoulder to get her to stop. “Look at that.”
In the distance were two oaks that had grown together to form an arch. They had started several feet apart, leaned toward each other like they’d gone in for a hug, and never let go.
“It’s a sign,” Jori said.
“A sign of what?”
Jori bounded over to the twin trees—now really a single tree—and Rae followed, wading through layers of dry, crunchy leaves from years past and sidestepping the clumps of ferns that poked through. She didn’t know why Jori was so excited, but she was willing to go along for the ride. Jori reached the tree and beckoned.
“A sign of our future together.”
Rae joined her and touched the barely visible seam where the two trunks met and became one. “You believe in signs?”
“I believe in taking advantage of unexpected opportunities, and this, sunshine, is a natural door.” Jori patted the tree trunk and smiled like she was issuing a dare. “Come on, show me your moves. If you can work a manmade doorway…”
Ah. Those moves. Those wiggling-against-a-doorframe moves she’d had so much fun with, not realizing the effect she was having. Jori must have thought she was a terrible tease.
Jori ducked under the arch and leaned against it, her back to the inner curve of the tree, and Rae squeezed in to join her on the opposite side, planting the back of her shoulders and the sole of one foot against the other trunk so they stood face-to-face. Jori propped her hands on the arch overhead, elbows flared, striking a casually sexy pose.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one with the moves,” Rae said. “But look at you. You could get some with that.”
Jori’s eyes sparkled. “I can get some without it, because I have personality.”
“You think so?” Rae pressed her chest subtly forward. There was no room to do anything blatant in the tight space, but some things didn’t require any space at all.
Jori’s gaze softened. She touched Rae’s shoulder, trailed her fingertips down her arm, clasped her hand. Raised her hand to her lips. Kissed her fingers. “I love you.”
Rae drew in her breath. The sun grew brighter and the lines of the tree’s bark came into sharp relief.
“I love you, too.” The trees blurred, and she had to blink until her vision cleared. “I really…I really do. So much. I should have told you sooner.”
It was too late to worry about being safe. About rules, and deal-breakers, and heeding red flags to protect herself from hurt feelings or disappointment or rejection or heartbreak. She’d glimpsed a light in Jori, and what she’d seen, she could never unsee. She’d fallen for that light. She could try to forget, she could pretend it never happened, but no matter how good she was at lying to herself, part of her would remember, because seeing that light had changed her. There was no going back.
Rae touched Jori’s face and traced her cheekbone. “I’m sorry I was so slow to figure it out.”
“It’s okay.”
Jori brushed her lips against hers in an exquisitely beautiful slow-motion kiss that left her struggling to catch her breath, worse than if she had just done a series of leaps across the stage.
“I’ll find a job where we’re not too far apart,” Rae blurted out. There was no guarantee she could land any dance job, let alone one in whatever city Jori ended up in, but she could try. With Jori as incentive, she’d be the best auditioner anyone had ever seen. “Wherever you move to, I’ll—”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
It was the right answer and the wrong answer all in one.
“You’re so nice.” God, nice was so inadequate a word. Nice wasn’t enough to explain why her heart ached.
“You should tour with another singer. Do what you’re best at.”
And not be tied down. Jori didn’t say it, but she had to be thinking it. Jori was allowing her to walk away. That was why Rae’s heart ached.
“I suppose we shouldn’t rush into anything,” Rae sa
id.
“Probably not,” Jori agreed. “But I’m up for rushing if you are.”
“You are?” Excitement bubbled up until Rae’s chest heaved and her arms shook and she had to hold on to Jori’s shoulders because Jori was the only thing that could steady her racing heart.
“Would you make me your home base?” Jori said. “Come back to me when you’re not traveling?”
“Absolutely.” Jori wanted to be with her. She wanted to make this work as much as Rae did. “You think I’d give you up?”
Jori pressed her into the tree, cradling her head with one hand to protect her from the rough bark. Rae slid her knee—the one she’d gotten so used to thinking of as her good knee, but which was now one of two good knees—up the side of Jori’s leg. Probably flashing the local squirrels in her skirt, but who cared? Jori certainly didn’t seem to, not with the way she hooked her arm under Rae’s calf and positioned it around her waist to run her hand up the underside of Rae’s bare thigh.
Rae tightened her leg around Jori’s waist and molded the length of her body to her, surrendering. Jori kissed her again, more thoroughly this time, making her feel wanted and safe.
When they finally pulled away, she could still feel the imprint of Jori’s lips on her own, a tingling reminder of why she didn’t want to leave.
“This isn’t the reason I love you,” Rae said.
Jori smiled and kissed her collarbone, then her neck, making her way upward until she reached her jaw. She paused, their faces touching. “Didn’t I say I have personality?”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
Rae slid her knee down Jori’s body and pulled her to the ground. They tumbled into the leaves and rolled each other, both vying to be on top, neither one giving in, their laughter mixing with the rustle of crushed leaves. Their legs tangled and Rae pinned Jori beneath her.
“You’re more invested in being up there than I thought,” Jori said with a hitch in her breath.
“What, you want me to let you win?”
“Let me?”
With a surge of her hips, Jori flipped her over and flashed a victorious grin. Gently, carefully, like she hadn’t just rammed their hip bones together, she eased Rae’s shoulders to the uneven ground. The weight of her on her thighs felt so good that Rae lost the urge to fight back with a move that would actually work. Rae wiggled to prove this wasn’t surrender, but it was. It was surrender. The best kind. Jori didn’t budge. They stayed there as Rae fell still, as Jori stared into her eyes like she couldn’t get enough of her. Rae slipped her hands between their bodies and stroked Jori’s breasts.
“Rae,” Jori whispered, her voice cracking. She shifted onto one arm to guide Rae’s hands out of the way and lowered herself onto her full length.
Rae wiggled underneath her again, adjusting to the contours of Jori’s body, finding the places where they fit. So perfect. Like they belonged together.
Jori picked a leaf out of her hair. “Is your back comfortable?”
Was she still worried about how Rae had stressed her knee that night? Because that was completely unnecessary.
“I happen to know where there’s a nice soft bed,” Jori continued.
“No, here. Stay.”
Jori gave her a hesitant look, waiting for her to change her mind. Rae just smiled.
Jori scooted down and pushed Rae’s skirt up and freed her of her underwear, her palms warm on her already heated skin. Rae trembled, her pelvis moving of its own volition, ready for Jori’s next move. Instead of going for it, Jori arranged the back of Rae’s skirt to make sure it protected Rae from the bare ground, and the care she put into that thoughtful gesture made Rae tremble even harder. When Jori finally flattened herself between Rae’s legs and took her, the shock of her warm, wet mouth made her mind short-circuit.
Rae gasped. OhGodOhGodOhGod…
If you’re coherent enough to remember my name and you’re capable of forming actual words, then the sex is just not that good, sunshine.
Less amusingly egotistical now that…oh God…her vision was going white.
Jori kept going, driving her into a shivering, shuddering frenzy, bringing her to completion, grinding the brittle leaves beneath her to dust.
Chapter Twenty-One
The endless rows of plastic folding chairs under the commencement tent were almost full. Jori was supposed to be halfway across the green with the other graduating students in their caps and gowns, finding her spot in alphabetical order, waiting to file in, but instead she was under the tent getting Baylee settled beside Axel’s mother in one of the back rows. Jori’s own mother had medical issues that made it painful to travel so Jori had told her not to come, and she wasn’t close enough to her brother to invite him. Axel, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any shortage of guests. His whole family was in attendance as well as a group of men who seemed to know his boyfriend Gus.
Baylee stood on her flimsy chair, wobbling precariously. “Where’s Rae?”
“Miss Peters,” Jori corrected, grabbing the back of the chair and holding it steady.
“When is Miss Peters coming?” Baylee craned her neck to see through the crowd.
“Can’t you tell that child to sit down?” said Axel’s mother.
“She’s fine,” Jori said.
“I see her!” Baylee waved her arms enthusiastically and almost fell off her chair. “Rae! Over here!”
Jori lifted Baylee off her feet and plunked her down in her seat. The last thing she needed was for her to fall and prove her grandmother right. Baylee squirmed until Rae reached their row.
“Baylee saved you a seat,” Jori told her, gesturing to the empty chair between Baylee and Gus. She wasn’t sure Rae would want to sit with Axel’s crowd, but there was no arguing with Baylee, and Rae had to sit somewhere.
“Mommy’s graduating,” Baylee told Rae. “She’s going to find a job.”
“She’ll find a great one,” Rae said, setting her bag down and accepting the seat. “Anyone would be lucky to have her.”
Baylee nodded gravely like she understood that finding a job was a serious matter. “We’re going to live somewhere new. Sierra and Melanie can’t come.”
Baylee was worried about that, wasn’t she? Jori leaned down and swung her into her arms, unable to resist giving her a reassuring hug. “It’s back to just you and me, kiddo.”
“And Daddy,” Baylee said, grabbing at the tassel swinging from Jori’s head.
Jori bit her lip. Now that they were done with school and both moving on, there was no telling how interested Axel would be in parenting. She hoped he’d visit Baylee once in a while, but it was going to have to be up to him to make the effort.
“We’ll see.”
Axel’s mother frowned and turned away, clearly unhappy with that answer but not willing to discuss it in public.
“And Rae,” Baylee said.
Jori hugged her more tightly and exchanged a look with Rae. They’d agreed to be together, but living together under one roof? Was that decided? Rae smiled and shrugged as if to say she wouldn’t hold her to anything she promised.
“You’ve got quite the interesting family structure there, Baylee,” Jori said lightly.
“Do you want to live with us, Rae?” Baylee asked.
Thanks, Baylee. Way to put the pressure on.
Rae laughed and joined them in a three-way hug, surrounding Baylee on all sides with people who loved her. “Of course I do.”
“Really?” Jori grinned. “Next time I want something I’m siccing Baylee on you.”
“Don’t think it’ll be that easy,” Rae said, but her smile was all sunshine.
“Shouldn’t you be lining up with the others?” Axel’s mother interrupted. “They’re waiting for you.”
Jori looked over in the direction Mrs. Nye pointed. One of the college administrators was headed her way, scowling with exasperation. She had no doubt who that scowl was meant for. The mortarboard on Jori’s head di
d make her conspicuous.
“Oops. Time for me to go.”
Jori returned Baylee to her seat, and, easily evading the woman sent to round her up, escaped between the rows of seats and jogged to where she was supposed to be.
A little while later she was sitting at the front of the tent with her classmates, watching them walk across the stage one at a time to accept their diplomas and have their ceremonial hoods draped over their necks.
Then it was her turn. She walked up the three short steps at the side of the stage, waited for her name to be called, crossed the stage to shake hands with the college president and the dean of her program, smiled for the official photo.
As she headed for the end of the stage, she turned and gazed out at the sea of faces. Baylee and Rae were easy to spot—they were the crazy people on their feet, hooting and waving and clapping their hands overhead like Jori was a rock star. She waved back and made for the stairs that led off the stage.
“Jori!” It was Axel, yelling from the audience. He barreled from his seat, clambered over a row of surprised classmates, and jumped onto the stage.
What was he doing? It wasn’t his turn. He snatched the cordless microphone from the startled dean’s hands and dropped to his knees in front of Jori.
Oh no. He wasn’t involving her in this prank, whatever it was. She started to back up, but he grabbed her hand before she could escape.
“Let me go,” she hissed. Making a scene was not how she wanted to be remembered by the school.
“Jori Burgess,” he said into the microphone, calmly and clearly, pausing for the powerful, nicely positioned speakers to echo his words. “Mother of my child and friend extraordinaire. Will you make my dreams come true? Will you marry me?”
Jori stared at him, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Someone in the audience shrieked with happiness. She turned to the crowd and instantly, unerringly found Rae. Their connection steadied her. Axel’s mother leaped out of her seat and clapped her hands over her mouth. Was she the one making all that noise?
“Jori?”
Maybe Axel thought proposing in public would make it harder for Jori to turn him down—that she wouldn’t want to embarrass him. That making a grand gesture would make him look like a romantic guy and that if she rejected him, she was a rhymes-with-witch. And if she said yes, and got everyone’s hopes up only to “change” her mind afterward, she was…again…a rhymes-with-witch. Although in front of fewer people.
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