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by Clare James

  I just couldn’t be close to Jenna—or Jules—that night, the guilt was killing me. So I ran; my typical M.O. Jenna’s little brother died because I’m a pussy and couldn’t face up to my shit.

  My stomach turns thinking about it.

  After I abandoned them, Ben volunteered to drive Jenna and Jules home. He wasn’t shit-faced or anything, but he’d been drinking plenty. And it was raining.

  Ben took a corner too fast. Apparently he yanked the steering wheel back the other way. It was too much; he overcorrected. They slid off the road. Hit a tree. Totaled the car.

  Thank God Jules didn’t ride with them.

  Ben was a good egg. He wasn’t anything like Jenna. He was a senior in high school, smart, good-looking, and a genuinely nice guy. Of course, Jenna didn’t deserve what happened either. She was hurt pretty bad. In the hospital for more than a month. Jules and I both tried to comfort her, but she didn’t want anything from us. Noah was the only person she let visit.

  And after that, we all dealt in our own separate ways.

  ~~~

  We wait about an hour in the ER before a doctor comes out into the waiting room.

  “Julia Taylor’s family,” the doc calls out.

  Tabby and I bolt up and almost sprint to the man. Noah runs to catch up and stands behind Tab. We look at him with grim faces and he chuckles a little.

  “Stop,” he tells us. “No need to be so morose. Julia, I mean Jules, is going to be just fine.”

  That’s a good sign. She must be doing somewhat okay if she already schooled the doctor on her name. Tabby and I let out a very vocal exhale and this time the doc’s laugh echoes through the room.

  “Yes,” he says, patting me on the arm. “I take it you’re the boyfriend.”

  I nod because I wish it were true. It feels like it’s true. Noah’s eyes narrow, but I just shrug him off.

  “So,” the doc continues, “it was a clean break. No surgery needed and I don’t foresee any future problems. We’re putting her arm in a plaster cast, which she is not happy about, I might add.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Feisty one, that Jules. Two weeks in the cast. Frankly, I’m worried we won’t be able to keep it on her that long. Then a sling and a splint for the next four to six weeks. She’ll be good as new by the end of the summer.”

  “What about pain?” I ask.

  “She’s feeling pretty good now and we’ll send her home with Vicodin. If it bothers her stomach, she can take it with food or milk. Tonight, tomorrow, keep her heavily medicated or she will be in quite a bit of pain. Then she can start cutting back. Will one of you be with her?”

  “Yes,” Tab and I answer in unison.

  “Okay, good.” He nods. “She’s going to need some help the next few weeks with that cast. Getting dressed—the bra and buttons are going to be impossible for her to do on her own. Plus, it is her right hand. Making meals, doors, that type of thing will also be hard for her at first. After the cast comes off, she’ll be able to start using the hand little by little. And by then, she’ll become quite adept working with one hand. But the next two weeks are going to be tough.”

  Tabby looks to Noah. “I’ll cancel my trip home,” she says.

  That’s right, she planned on going home on Sunday. Well, Jules would not be happy with her changing her plans. Not at all.

  “No,” I tell her. “I’ll stay with her.”

  “Foster.” Tabby laughs. “Do you really think Jules is going to want you dressing her—clasping her bra? Zipping her jeans?”

  “Maybe not at first,” I tell her.

  Noah’s eyes narrow, giving me a silent warning.

  “Look,” I say directly to him. “This situation isn’t ideal, but she needs my help. She’ll never let you stay home, Tabby. You know that. She’ll send you on your way and then she’ll be stuck alone, struggling.”

  “Yes,” Tabby agrees. “That does sound like her, but it will be no better with you.”

  “I won’t give her a choice. I can move in for two weeks. Just until you get home. Her law firm, what is it? Dicks and Dildos?”

  “Dildos and Dicks.” Tabby laughs. “Get it straight, will you?”

  “It’s close to my internship.”

  “Your internship?” Noah questions.

  Forever the reporter.

  “Yes, you’re not the only one with plans, asshole.”

  “And where, pray tell, are you interning?” he asks.

  “That new bistro in Uptown. It’s actually a business internship, but I offered my cooking services as well and Chef Paul took it.”

  Noah’s impressed, I can tell. I know that guy like a brother. Of course he’s not going to let on. Still, I have to say it feels good to impress him for a change.

  “Anyway,” I stretch out the word, “I’m not due in until ten each morning. I can get Jules downtown to Douche and Douchier and still make it to the restaurant. Then I’m off after the lunch rush. Plenty of time to pick her up. I’ll be subbing in for a few dinners too, but I can have her taken care of before I leave. Make her dinner, get her settled. Let me do this.”

  Of course Tab thinks I’m asking her, but Noah understands the question is to him.

  “Sounds like you have it all worked out,” Noah says, a little apprehensive.

  “Yeah, we’ve been here a while. Plenty of time to think.”

  “I’m not sure what she’ll think,” Tabby says.

  “We tell her slowly,” I add. “Preferably after she’s had a good dose of meds.”

  “Okay.” Tabby smiles now. “But if she has any issues with this, Foster, I’m canceling my trip.”

  We both know that isn’t going to happen.

  Chapter 11

  Jules

  As I reach the door, Foster grabs my hand to stop me. He takes that hand and places it on his chest and I feel his heart. I always feel it, but this time mine joins its steady beat.

  Thud-a-dom, thud-a-dom.

  His eyes turn my favorite shade of amber. Glowing for me. I open my mouth to tell him that I’m glad he’s back. I’m happy that empty shell is gone, but he interrupts my thoughts with the softest of kisses.

  “I meant it, you know,” he says.

  “Meant what?” I ask.

  “That we could start over. We could try again,” he says before capturing my mouth again.

  “Jules,” a woman’s voice interrupts. “Jules.”

  “Mmm.” I wake up with the yummy taste of Foster on my lips.

  I shift and realize I’m not in my bed. Soft velvet grazes the side of my cheek and I slowly open my eyes to the glare of sun in Tabby’s place. Our place. I’m covered in soft chenille blankets and down pillows. My arm is propped up by two of them.

  That’s right—the fall, my wrist, the hospital, those glorious pain meds.

  “Hey, sleepy lady.” Tabby comes into vision. “How are you feeling?”

  I take a moment to assess my body. I’m a little stiff, a little groggy, but not too bad.

  “Okay, I think.”

  “Any pain?”

  I tighten up at the mention of pain and look down at my casted arm. It doesn’t hurt, per se. But there’s a ghost of a wicked ache that could spell trouble.

  “That’s what I thought,” Tab says, walking over with a tray holding a bottle of meds, a half-glass of milk and some soda crackers. “Here,” she adds placing two white pills in front of me. “Let’s start with this, and if all goes well, Foster made some of his famous chicken and tortellini soup for you.”

  I put the pills on my tongue and wash them down with the milk. I break the cracker into four pieces and let them dissolve in my mouth one piece at a time.

  “So.” Tabby scoots next to me on the couch. “Quite a night, huh?”

  “Yeah, what I remember of it anyway. Did that dumbass Viking really take me down with him when Foster put a fist in his face?”

  “Yep.” Tabby shivers. “I was so scared for you, Jules. You passed out almost instantly, and once I saw yo
ur wrist, I almost did the same thing. Not Foster, though. He was at your side in a second, using bar towels to make a sling for your arm. It was something.”

  “How’s he doing?” I ask. Of course I’m not happy with his crazy behavior, but if I’m being honest, those instincts of his—to protect and take care of me—well, it feels damn good. Especially after all that’s happened this past year.

  “He’s okay,” Tabby answers. “But he feels like shit. He stayed with you all night. I had to kick him out this morning, but he was back in an hour to check on you and deliver the soup.

  “Wait, this morning?” I try to grasp the series of events and the time. “What time is it?”

  “It’s five p.m.,” Tabby says, rubbing my leg. “Your poor little body has been through a lot. Do you remember what the doctor said about your injury and recovery?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I flip the wrist of my good hand. “Cast for two weeks, splint for four, good to go by the end of the summer.”

  I stop for a moment, feeling as if I’m forgetting something. What is it—five o’clock Saturday night?

  It hits me.

  Tabby’s last night with Noah before she goes home—he had me help plan their last night together before she leaves. A picnic and concert in the park, and it should be starting now.

  “Hey,” I almost yell. “You are going to be late! And why in the hell are you wearing yoga pants? This is your special date night with the man. Go get your sexy on.”

  “Well, that didn’t take long.” Tabby laughs. “Foster said you’d wake up trying to kick me out of the house.”

  “For once he’s right. Go on. Scat. Go to Noah.”

  “I’m not going, Jules.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because my best friend is injured and she needs me. I may not even be going home. I think I should wait until you’re back on your feet.”

  Now I sit up, trying to ignore the spinning room. “No way, T. No effing way. You’re not ruining your vacation and your night with Noah for me.” I take a breath and add, “I’m fine,” before falling back on my pillow.

  “Right,” Tabby says. “You can’t be alone, Jules.”

  “Ugghhh,” I yell, frustrated. I know she’s not going to leave and she needs this trip. She needs time with her family. They’re in the middle of relationship repair and she needs to get through this. It’s important.

  “There’s only one other option,” Tabby says with traces of a mischievous grin.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Foster said he’d stay.”

  “Well, there you go. That’ll work,” I say before thinking it through.

  “Only if you’re comfortable. He said he’d move in for the two weeks I’m gone. Then the cast will come off and you’ll have better use of your arm.”

  “It’s just my hand, how bad can it be?”

  “Well, let’s think about that before you give me your answer.” She begins ticking things off her fingers. “You’re going to need help getting in and out of your clothes. There’s no way you can hook a bra, do the zipper and button your pants, tie your shoes, make food, drive, or carry things.”

  “I can manage,” I quickly say, not really hearing her protests.

  “You’ll have Foster, but are you comfortable with that?”

  “It’ll be fine, Tabby. I’m not ruining your trip.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal. We can do a test run. I’ll go out with Noah and Foster will stay the night. See how it goes. Then if you’re comfortable, I’ll go home tomorrow. But if you’re not, I mean by one hundred percent, I call off my trip. Postpone it until next month. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Yes, it is a big deal,” I argue. “Foster and I will be just fine. Go. Now. Go spend these last few hours with your lover.”

  She holds a finger to me and makes a few calls.

  “Okay,” she says when she comes back into the living room. “Foster’s on his way.”

  I nod and smile, but when she turns around, I close my eyes.

  Oh crap. What did I just do?

  Chapter 12

  Foster

  I jump on my bike and give myself a pep talk the entire way over to Jules’ apartment. I knew she’d agree to Tabby’s demands. There’s no way she’d make Tab cancel her trip. However, I knew she’d also come up with a protest to having me wait on her just as soon as she had the opportunity. Now, not only do I need to prevent that, but I also need to stay in control of my body and my perverted mind. Being this close to Jules for so long, how will I be able to keep my hands off her?

  This is going to be a game of sheer willpower. I will be pushed to the brink. It’s a fucking survival reality TV show. And I’m not at all sure I’ll make it out alive.

  I pull into the parking lot and unstrap the monstrous bag of shit I’ll need during the next two weeks, mainly work clothes and my cooking tools. I don’t like using other people’s shit when I’m cooking, and this is my opportunity to try out a bunch of new recipes with my captive audience of one. Thank Christ she loves to eat.

  I used Jules’ car earlier to deliver my soup and stock her fridge, so we’re good to go.

  Let the two weeks of our new platonic relationship commence.

  “Foster,” Tab greets me at the door. “Man, that was fast. Come in, come in.”

  “How’s the patient?” I ask, walking over to Jules. I’m glad my hands are full of shit because I want nothing more to grab her and hold her close. She looks so small and vulnerable lying there on the couch with her groggy doe eyes and wild hair.

  “A-okay,” Jules answers. “Kudos to the doc for some excellent drugs.”

  My tough girl, lying through her teeth.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “Just some soda crackers,” Tab jumps in. “She’s kept them down fine. She should be ready for some soup now. Here,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and leading me into her room. “Mi casa es su casa. Make yourself at home. I even cleared out a few drawers for you.”

  I peek out and give Jules a what the hell look and she just laughs.

  “She is the ultimate mother hen,” Jules calls back. “Get her out of here, would you? She’s going to be late for her last date with Noah for two weeks. Those two can barely keep their hands off each other during daylight hours. I can’t even imagine how they are going to get through two weeks.”

  “One week,” Tabby yells. “Noah is coming to stay the last part of the trip.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Jules says.

  I drop my bag on the bed and take out all my tools, bring them into the kitchen, and begin to warm the soup. Meanwhile, Tabby gives me the lowdown on Jules’ medication schedule and hands me a list of phone numbers.

  “Night-night, Mom,” Jules says when Tabby finally makes it out the door.

  “Whew,” I add when I hear the door click. “I thought she’d never leave. So do you want to do it?”

  “Settle down, big boy.” Jules giggles.

  I play it off, even though I’m completely serious. I want to jump her more than I want my next breath.

  “We’ve got two whole weeks in front of us.” She winks.

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  I bring Jules her soup on a tray, help her up, and get settled so she can get something in her stomach. I check the clock on the stove—time for more meds. Taking the bottle from the tray, I dump the pills into my hand and hold two out to her mouth. Jules puts down her spoon and opens for me. I set them on her tongue, but it catches me on the way out and the feeling of her warm, wet tongue goes straight to my balls. I take a breath. No, no, no. Not here. Not here.

  Too late.

  Jules takes a drink of water and throws back the pills, but a drop escapes and runs down her chin. How badly I want to lap it up.

  She eats her soup—my famous tortellini with chicken, carrots, celery, and bunch of top secret spices. I can see her savoring the broth with each bite. Her moans are also a good indication she’s enjoying it
.

  “Alright, Taylor,” I say. “Take it easy over there, you’re giving me a hard-on.”

  “Whatever,” she says. “The wind changing direction gives you a hard-on.”

  Looks like she’s back to normal.

  Jules finishes the soup and I clean up, with Noah’s damn voice buzzing in my head. He’s letting me get by with a lot of shit right now, but I know if I try anything, he will tell her about Jenna. He knows I’m bad for Jules, knows she deserves more than I could ever give her. He would, undoubtedly, tell her if I break the agreement. That would be that. No more Foster and Jules in any sense, platonic or otherwise.

  It’s something I can’t live with.

  So I move next to her and start surfing for a movie to keep us entertained for the night. It’s a welcome distraction.

  ~~~

  Jules doesn’t wake when I move her to bed. I prop her casted arm on pillows and tuck her under the covers.

  It’s eerily close to what I did for her in high school after Ed’s brutal attack.

  Man, Jules and I had it rough growing up, but what she had to endure? Not even I had to deal with that level of fucked up. What’s worse is that it was the result of two very poor choices by her mom, Karen—and two very poor excuses for men.

  The first guy was crude and mean. Jules was smart, though. She stayed low until Karen dumped him. The second? He put Jules in the hospital. The bastard took a cigarette to her. He seared the underside of her arm with burns up and down, like she was a fucking ashtray.

  I was the unfortunate soul who found her after that attack, when she was trying to treat the burns on her own. I didn’t pass go when I went to Karen or when I found the asshole to punish. With my fists.

  That’s why Jules always has my back and lets me get away with murder. I’d take a bullet for that girl and she knows it.

  After those dark days, my little spitfire’s light went out for a while. She didn’t want anything to do with guys, especially me. She kept us all at a distance. So I dated to pass the time, all the while wishing the girls were Jules.