More

by Clare James

  Yeah, but there’s more to the story, Jules.

  “I know,” I tell her to put this conversation to bed. “I know. But I’m still sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  “Me too,” Jules says. “And I’m sorry to end the night like this. It was so perfect, too perfect. I guess I needed to muck it up or something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when we’re bickering or giving each other crap things aren’t as scary. Like you said, things with us are too real.”

  “They are,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “I think it’s about damn time.”

  Chapter 29

  Jules

  After my exhausting night with Foster, I sleep hard. Until the dreams start.

  I try not to think about what happened after the accident. I’ve trained myself to get over it, but sometimes the memories seep into my dreams and I remember. I remember how in a moment of weakness, I thought about ending it all—and maybe I did deserve what my mom’s boyfriend did to me after Dad left us. I know how it sounds now, but it made sense in some sort of deranged way then.

  It’s scary to think about how a person can take control from another. Yeah, in my situation I was a kid. I didn’t have much choice. Still, look at all the battered women who stay. Or the kidnapping victims who succumb to their captor. Or cults or bad marriages. Why? Why would you stay with someone who had ultimate control? Why wouldn’t you kick the mofo to the curb and get the heck out of Dodge?

  One word.

  Fear.

  When Mom’s first boyfriend, Billy, used me as his verbal punching bag, I never said one word back. I never told anyone. Not until Foster found out. He overheard one of Billy’s tongue lashings. Mom was through with him shortly after Foster found out, so shit never really hit the fan.

  No, it was nothing like the situation with Ed.

  Ed was smarter. He primed and conditioned me with fear before he made his move. He started slow. A grab around my arm. A shake. A slap across the face. Not to mention the threats about harming my mom if I ever told. So I took it in silence.

  Because of fear.

  Then the night—the beginning of end. Mom had been on his case. She was onto him. He was so not her type, but after Dad left us, she was low and her self-esteem was shot. That’s when these losers pounce. They can smell the fear, the desperation.

  I don’t remember what he said—or what I said—when he took that cigarette to my arm. I just remember the pain and how it was almost a welcome feeling, compared to the fear I’d been living with. I think I was looking for that feeling again after Ben died, so I mimicked Ed’s assault.

  Who knows what would’ve happened if Foster hadn’t found out. He saved me, my knight in shining armor, and I’ve had this complete and utter hero worship of him ever since. I will never forget what he did and I’ll always love him for it.

  So how do you recover from something like that?

  Well, let’s just say I don’t trust the system. Not after Mom put me in every therapy, group, and recovery program known to man. Didn’t help.

  To heal, I went underground. An unconventional treatment program, if you will. My group therapy group is run completely by a bunch of wackos like me. But don’t judge. It works.

  Brian, one of said nutjobs, challenged me. Scratch that. We don’t use any of that BS therapy speak. Brian bullied me into knocking fear out of my system by desensitization. By becoming desensitized to fear, I would never be paralyzed by it again. Therefore, I would never let some jerkwad like Ed hurt me again.

  That also worked.

  I used scary movies, books, you name it, to overcome my fear.

  The problem was, it also desensitized me to anything good, and I went dark, really dark. I stopped looking forward to things. I stopped thinking, hoping, wishing for a future.

  And that still hasn’t completely gone away. I don’t make plans too far in advance. No white-wedding visions for this gal. No plans for two-point-five kids and the dog.

  When it came time to grow up, I turned in my v-card. No proclamations, no fanfare. When high school graduation drew near, Mom said it was time to choose a school. I picked the U because it was an easy choice. And I didn’t care.

  And when it came time to select a major, well… I do have this affinity for making assholes pay…so law it was. A few months ago, it was time for an internship. So here I am.

  Lately though, I have been getting glimpses at something more.

  And Foster is always there.

  Those glimpses into my future continue throughout the weekend.

  ~~~

  My blissful hangover from the weekend ends once I walk into court on Monday.

  I take my seat next to Jake and begin taking out the files, pens, Post-its, and paper. Then we begin. The judge hears from both attorneys as they argue their cases.

  Next up are the parents, who both air the dirty laundry of their marriage. It’s uncomfortable and sad.

  Or I think it is, until the time comes for the money card. Emily, the couple’s little girl, takes the stand and there is a hush in the courtroom. I knew this was coming. I read the notes, the accusations, and all of the transcripts from the earlier proceeding, but hearing this child’s take on the situation from her tiny little mouth is something else entirely. She talks of the fighting and violence and how one time she and her sister spent the night in their closet surrounded by stuffed animals.

  I feel everything for her in that moment. I feel the fear until tears are rolling down my face.

  So very unprofessional.

  Jake elbows me and I quickly pull it together.

  At the end of the day, it’s considered a win for the mother, our client. Things are looking very much in her favor at this point, but after hearing Emily, I can’t find anything positive about this situation and I just want to go home.

  “God, Foster.” I bang my head on the table once we’re back at the apartment. “The whole thing was terrible. The parents lashing out at each other, little Emily recounting her sucky life, not to mention when I started crying. At. Work. It was mortifying.”

  Foster pulls me to my feet, drags me into the living room, and plops me on the couch.

  “Hey,” he says, sliding my legs onto his lap so he can give me a foot massage. “Don’t apologize because you have a heart, Jules. I’m sure this happens all the time.”

  “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. Any of it.”

  “What happened to the whole nailing balls to the wall mantra? Come on, where’s your fight?”

  “I think I’m losing it. I’m not sure I know what to do anymore. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I can’t do it.”

  “Fuck that, you can do anything you want. But you do have choices. It doesn’t have to be law, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I doubt that,” he says, his magical hands inching up my legs.

  I know exactly. Foster thinks I should quit and go into photography. He wants me to keep things safe and easy, just like he always does. But what I see is a heavy dose of fear that needs an ass-whooping.

  My phone goes off and Foster grabs it, frowning before he passes it to me.

  Jake.

  I shrug at Foster and pick it up. “Hi, Jake.”

  “Hey, Jules. Just wanted to check in on you. Make sure we didn’t lose our favorite intern today. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little embarrassed. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it together in the courtroom today. I guess I don’t have that killer instinct like the rest of you.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he says. “I could tell you stories. Don’t worry, you’re doing great. Shit happens and sometimes things get tough in this business, but don’t let that scare you off.”

  “No, I’m not going to let it,” I say, watching Foster cringe at this conversation.

  “Good, because the payoff in the end is worth it. You’ll see.”

  Yeah, I won
’t let a little setback stop me. So I say goodnight to Foster, get on my computer, and face my fears head-on. After all, this case isn’t over and there’s a little girl who needs my help.

  Chapter 30

  Foster

  Leave it to jackass to ruin our night. Not that I don’t want Jules to get back on the horse. I want her to do well. I want her to have everything: the career, family, friends...but most of all I want her happy. What I don’t want is for her to become one of those people trying to solve their problems with their job. Jules needs to get over what happened when her dad left, not keep reliving it over and over again.

  I tinker in the kitchen while she works away in her room most of the night. She comes out once to apologize for skipping movie night and to give me a chaste and incredibly lame peck on the cheek.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.

  We only have three nights left.

  Chapter 31

  Jules

  On Tuesday, I’m back at D and D. Jake brought me coffee and scones as a thank you for helping him on the Robins case. It does make me feel a little better. I know I’ll have a lifetime of blunders in my career, but it feels good to get this first one out of the way.

  Still, Foster’s words stay with me. My career doesn’t have to be law. I always have a back-up with photography. Or maybe I could do both. Court during the day and studio work on the weekends. Or, I could take on pro bono casework in between taking photos for my clients. I guess this is what planning for the future is all about.

  And then my future calls. My phone announces it’s Foster in all caps. FOSTER. Because he deserves all caps. My heart still leaps every time he calls. That feeling has never left me, not since we were fifteen.

  “Hi there,” I say when I pick up the phone.

  “How’s the day going? Are you controlling the waterworks?”

  “Shut up.” I laugh. “I’m doing fine.”

  “You’re not blowing me off for work again tonight, are you?”

  Why did I do that? Stupid, stupid girl.

  “Not on your life,” I tell him and I swear I can feel him smile. “We only have three nights left, right?”

  “About that—” he begins. “Aw, hell,” he finishes, talking away from the phone. “Shit, Jules, I have to go, but I’ll pick you up tonight. How does pizza and movies sound?”

  “Perfect,” I tell him, desperately wondering what he was going to say before the interruption.

  ~~~

  We decide to make a night of staying in, so the first thing I do is change out of my corporate-wear into yoga pants and a tank. Foster takes a quick shower and graces me with wet hair, a snug tee, and a pair of running pants that sit low on his hips.

  I am not sure how long this so-called movie night is going to last.

  The pizza guy arrives and Foster brings it into the living room.

  As we eat, we talk about our day and fight over which movie we’re going to watch first. I see another glimpse at my future. Still not the white wedding or kids or even a dog. Just this. Just us and pizza and a movie.

  I take pictures of it all in my mind. Foster laughing—click. His delicious mouth as he stuffs his face—click. The way his eyes focus on me and turn that brilliant shade of amber when he talks—click. I add them to the album in my mind—they join the hundreds of others I’ve taken during the years.

  It’s that moment when I know. I love him. I love Foster. More than anything, and not because he saved me from my past or because he’s always been there or because he was my first crush. I love him right now, for everything he is.

  The emotion is so overwhelming I can hardly contain it, and I’m not sure I want to anymore.

  “So what happened on the phone today?” I ask him, hoping there was something more he was going to say during that conversation.

  “What do you mean?” he ask.

  Oh, he’s going to make me work for it, I see.

  “You were about to say something after I mentioned we only had three nights left of our arrangement.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Oh, that,” he says with a growing smirk. “Sorry I had to interrupt our call. Some dumbass almost chopped off his finger at the prep station at work.”

  “What?” I ask as my stomach turns. “Ugh. Who was it?

  “Jared.” Foster laughs.

  “Poor guy. Did he have to go to the hospital?”

  “No, we took care of it with a butterfly.” He takes another bite of pizza.

  “So?” I prod. “What were you going to say during that call before the slice-and-dice incident?”

  “It was nothing.” Now he’s proudly modeling that smirk.

  “Tell. Or I choose all the movies tonight.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He puts down his pizza now and scoots closer.

  “You won’t be saying that by the third Hitchcock film.” I follow his tempo and slide into him a little more.

  “I don’t think we’ll be watching any movies tonight.” He faces me now and leans us both against the couch.”

  “And why would that be?” I take another little gulp.

  “Because the thing I didn’t get to say on the phone is that I don’t want to stop all of this in three nights. I don’t want to stop at all. Fuck the countdown, Jules. I want to do this for real.”

  “You asshole,” I say, slapping his chest. “Why couldn’t you say that right away?”

  “What fun would that be?” Foster cups the back of my head. He’s so close I can feel his breath on me.

  “I hate you,” I whisper.

  “Well, I love you,” he says in such a firm and confident way that I can’t move. I don’t want to move, so I start taking a million silent pictures of this moment. I want to freeze it in time; I don’t want to ever forget it. Not one second.

  And as the shutter continues clicking away in my mind, Foster kisses me—a million tiny kisses. His own way of marking the moment.

  “I love you, too,” I finally tell him.

  He stops his kisses to look at me and a dozen emotions seem to pass over his face all at once before landing somewhere in the land of lust.

  It’s incredibly hot, but also a little scary.

  But I have no time to think because he comes crashing into me a second later, and all he says is, “Hold on.”

  ~~~

  “Come over here,” Foster says all raspy and out of breath.

  I’m in the kitchen naked, heating up the pizza I never had the chance to eat. “Hold your horses, I need to fuel up if you plan to ravage me again. A girl cannot live on your body alone.”

  “All right, all right. Fuel up and then get your sweet little ass over here.”

  I never make it though, because Tabby shows up with Noah.

  And her brother.

  Chapter 32

  Foster

  Just what I need.

  Fuuuuck!

  Tabby wanted to surprise Jules and come home early. With Noah and her stepbrother, Michael, no less. It’s an official full house and Jules and I are tromping around the place buck-ass naked.

  I wrap myself in a blanket and practically dive into the kitchen to cover Jules.

  Not the image I wanted Noah to see before our talk.

  “Oh my God, you guys. Surprise! We’re home early.” Tabby laughs, clearly enjoying herself.

  Noah, conversely, is not in such a festive mood and his eyes narrow in on me. They continue to do so even after Jules and I are dressed.

  Once we join everyone in the living room, Tabby brings us up to speed—her trip home was great, she made amends with her parents, they liked Noah, but wouldn’t allow the two of them to sleep in the same bed. The happy couple couldn’t take it any longer, so here they are. Earlier than expected. Three days earlier.

  Meanwhile, Michael is starting at the university this summer and will stay with the girls—or Noah—until he finds his own apartment. So he came along for the ride.

  I tune out while they try to figure o
ut the new sleeping arrangements. It’s awkward and there’s no room left in place. My cue to leave.

  Noah, unfortunately, comes to the same conclusion. He eventually tracks me down in the parking lot.

  “I fucking knew it,” Noah says. “I knew you’d do this.”

  “It’s not what it looks like, man. It’s not a hook-up. This is the real thing.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” Noah leans against my car and crosses his arms.

  “No you haven’t. I’ve never wanted more with anyone before and you know it.”

  “All I know is that when you finally got together with Jules freshman year, the love of your fucking life, you pissed it all away. Why do you deserve another chance?”

  “Because I’ve changed.”

  “And you think I should look the other way?” Noah asks.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I think. I’ve been doing penance long enough. You’re happy now, man. Look at Tabby. You have everything you want. Maybe it’s time for me too.”

  “What about Jules?”

  “What about Jules?” I repeat. “I worship that girl, Noah. Nobody else could give her what I can. I promise you that.”

  “Then why not tell her yourself? Give her the chance to make the decision. Start off on a clean slate. That’s what Tab and I did, and that’s why it works.”

  “It’s not the same. Cheating is a deal-breaker for Jules; she’ll never understand. She’d bust my balls and leave me for dead if she knew what happened.”

  “Fine, I’m out of it. This is between the two of you. But if you don’t treat her right, I will sing like a canary. I owe that much to Jules.”

  His words are a smack across the face. I’m hearing it, but can’t believe it.

  “Seriously?” I ask. “You’ll leave this up to me?”

  “I don’t really think I have a choice, do you?”

  He gives me that look that he has for years—like someone pissed in his Cheerios. So I have to push it. Just for grins.