Reaching in the cooler, he sifted through the ice to find one and passed it.
“Thanks,” Dylan said, pulling off the lid before sucking down a good swig.
A slight tug on his line proved to be nothing more than a nibble and Jack relaxed.
“You going to talk about it?” Dylan broke the silence.
A fist seemed to squeeze Jack’s heart for a second. He breathed through it. “Nope,” he finally answered.
“Harper says something’s up. That Chloe is acting weird.”
Jack shrugged, sipping his own beer. He just barely resisted throwing the bottle as hard as he could.
“And you’re awful quiet. You’re never this quiet.” Dylan shoved him and Jack was almost tempted to smile. Almost.
“And you’re never this damned chatty. I’m fishing, asshole.”
“Dick.”
“Screw you.”
“Asshat.”
“Jackwad.”
“Well, now that the niceties are out of the way, am I going to owe you a car or beers? Are you going to be my bitch…give up this easy?” Dylan shoved him again and Jack sighed.
“Beers. Lots of beers. And it’s not giving up easy. She wins.” Saying it hurt almost as bad as walking away from her.
The temptation to call her, see if she was okay, to look at her had been almost constant in the past days. How he’d held his shit together, made that lame ass mention of the ghost story—which she didn’t even remember, dammit—and walked away was beyond him.
She’d looked like she remembered. She’d looked like she was going to stop him from leaving.
But she hadn’t. She also hadn’t come after him. Not that he’d been hoping she would…
Knowing she was out there, some other man pawing all over her, laughing and having a good time while he nursed a broken heart, hurt.
It hurt bad.
“She loves you, too, you know that?” Dylan’s tone was soft and Jack blinked hard.
Not like he was going to cry or anything. Just that there was something in his eyes from the breeze. Sure, lie to yourself now, too, jackass.
“I’ve waited for her. I’ve stood by her. You ever see that movie, He’s Just Not That into You, Dylan?” Turning, he faced his buddy and almost smiled at the perplexed look on his face.
“Uh, isn’t that a chick flick?”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck yourself, I’m pretty sure it is.” Dylan leaned back on the wall of the boathouse. “So, no, being a man, I’ve not seen it.”
“It’s not a chick flick. It’s a fucking comedy.” Turning back to the water, Jack tugged his line up. Nibblers ate the chunk of worm and didn’t take the hook. The fish here must be smarter than the average fish. He hooked another piece of worm and dropped the line back in the mirror reflection of rippling sky.
“Romantic comedy, maybe.”
He didn’t answer, sipping his beer.
“Don’t get all defensive, Jack, I’m just saying.”
He grunted, not feeling that was worth a response either.
“Look, tell me why I should see it.” Dylan rubbed at Stark’s belly when the dog presented it with a stretch.
“Aside from the fact Drew Barrymore and that little dark haired girl, the hot one, are in it, there’s a very good commentary on relationships in general discussed in a way that makes good sense.” Okay, maybe saying it out loud sounded a little weak.
Still, it really was a good movie.
“Is Drew naked?”
“You’re seriously drinking my beer and making fun of me?” Mentioning the beer made him want another drink.
Or ten.
Or shots. Something to numb the ache of knowing it had been all a waste of time.
“Jack, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”
Jack shrugged. “Nothing worth having is easy, man.”
Dylan nodded.
“Was it easy to win back Harper after everything? No, but you did it. You waited. I waited, for years, locked in the friend zone, only living on the borders of her life. I watched her get married, for fuck’s sake. I waited while she sowed her oats, knowing she didn’t give a good golly goddamn about a single one of those douche bags. Knowing she’d eventually see and realize—”
Jack shut up, breathing hard, and drank more beer.
“So, because it hurt to wait, you’re ending it?” Dylan reached for another beer, pulled off the cap and passed it.
Glancing at his empty bottle, Jack threw it at the garbage. He missed and watched the bottle roll on the dock. The dog, still too lazy to do anything, lifted his head and watched it until it stilled. Another sip of the beer, his line tugged, and his breathing was back to normal. “No, I ended it because I can wait until hell freezes over and she’s not going to change.”
The hard reality of it had hit him hard and he was still swaying from the shock of impact.
“You don’t know that.”
Glaring at Dylan, Jack didn’t answer.
“Okay, so she’s been a bitch. Fuck her, man. You don’t need her. Plenty of fish in the sea, if you’ll ignore my cliché. I’m betting we could get you laid this weekend. Pick up a hot little—”
Jack’s punch hit Dylan dead center of the chest. His pal wheezed for a second, bracing himself on the deck and Stark finally stirred enough to whine. “Don’t call her a bitch. And I don’t want anyone else.” Fighting back the red haze of anger that filled him, Jack stared at the water, waiting for Dylan to punch him back. The sound of him gulping beer made Jack turn back to him. “You’re not going to punch back?”
“Naw, why the hell would I? You answered your own problem, accepted the truth. Besides, you punch like a girl. What kind of cop are you, if you can’t even throw a decent hook?”
Ignoring the last bit, Jack considered. “I don’t want anyone else.”
“Nope,” Dylan agreed, sounding almost cheerful. “You, my friend, are well and truly caught, even if she pissed you off.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup,” Dylan sighed. “Welcome to my world.”
Silently, they sipped their beers and looked out over the pond while the dog dreamed of catching sticks and murmured in his sleep.
***
“Surprise!” The shout went up all around her and Chloe forced a smile.
“Wow! You guys shouldn’t have!” Because it was the right thing to do—her friends had gone to a lot of trouble to try to surprise her, after all—she passed out hugs and headed to the table with the glowing cake. “Thanks so much!”
“You didn’t think we’d forget your birthday, did you?” Harper bumped shoulders with her. “It isn’t every day that one of my friends heads over the hill.”
“The hill?”
“Old age.” Harper laughed and pointed at the cake. “We gave you a tombstone, see?”
Sure enough, forty candles lit the cake like a bonfire to burn away her youth. “Wow! You shouldn’t have.” Really, they shouldn’t have. First, she had to come to terms with the fact she was a complete mess of a woman, incapable of both real and fake relationships, and now her mortality sat in front of her, iced to perfection and flaming bright enough to light a third world nation.
“No trouble, right, Dylan? We’re just glad to be here to share it with you.” Harper hugged her husband and he smiled down at her and they were so perfect together, Chloe bit the inside of her cheek. Jack was nowhere to be found, but plenty of her other exes from over the years lurked around. There was Stewie Masterson, the barber’s son and now barber himself, surrounded by his wife and two perfect children. Over by Grandma Lila—not actually her grandmother, but everyone’s gramma at the same time—who seemed to be spiking the punch, stood Junkyard Williams, another conquest from another period in her life. She was surrounded, it seemed, by boyfriends of the past. Then again, in a small town, it was hard to walk two feet without stumbling over someone she knew or who knew her and what a wreck she’d made of her life.
Trying to wor
k up happiness, everything ground to a halt when a voice cried out from the back of the room, “She barged in uninvited and ruined my relationship and career, I tell you!”
Jim.
Figured. Squaring her shoulders and ready to face him, she didn’t expect a hand to clamp down on her shoulder. “Let me handle this one, birthday girl?”
Her whole body seemed to come back to life like someone had hooked her up to an electric fence. “Jack?”
He grinned at her, dimples flashing. “You didn’t think I’d miss your birthday, did you, Red?” With that, he headed into the crowd of people filling the Jefferson Diner, cutting through the people as slick as a hot knife through butter. “Is there a problem here, sir?”
“That bitch—”
He didn’t get any further and from her vantage at the back of the diner, Chloe couldn’t see exactly what happened. The folks around her soon filled her in, though, as word passed through the group like dye through water. “He done punched the sumbitch out!”
“Jack?” she whispered his name, no chance in hell he’d hear her over the chaos erupting around her. Grandma Lila ladled up a cup of the punch Chloe’d seen her dump the canister into and handed it to Chloe.
“Drink this, girl. Looks like you’re going to need a little liquid courage, because that boy of yours is in a snit.”
“Pardon me?”
“The cop? He’s usually such a quiet boy, all easy going. My mama, she always said you had to watch for the quiet ones.”
And then he was there, looking down at her as if he could see inside her—ugly bits, unlovable bits, broken bits and all—and like he liked her mighty fine anyway. “Jack?”
“Look, I’m not on duty, but it’s still frowned upon for an officer to punch a guy…Would anyone be offended if I stole Chloe away for a private party, and y’all finished this one without us?”
A chorus of whoops and hollers followed his declaration and, without further ado, the cowboy cop scooped her onto his shoulder and headed out the back of the diner. “What in the ever-loving hell do you think you’re doing, you damned fool man?”
“We’re going to have a chat, you and I. Planned on waiting until after your party, but I don’t think we should stick around…not now that I’ve popped your boyfriend in the nose.”
He dumped her back on her feet on the pavement. Blood rushed to her head and she smacked Jack’s chest.
“The fucking barbarian bullshit is this?” She wanted to say, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t leave me. But she called him a barbarian instead. Her face flooded with heat and she stomped her foot, frustrated with herself and with him for ruining the perfectly good apology she’d been working on for the next time she saw him.
“You and me, we don’t seem to communicate well when it matters. That stops today. I figure I’ve let you drive this carnival ride about long enough, Chloe, so get your ass in the damned truck.”
She sputtered. She searched for the spine to tell him exactly where he could shove his machismo.
Instead…she got her ass in the damned truck.
Before she really processed the decision, he roared through the center of town—breaking the speed limit, shockingly enough—and before she knew it they sat parked right where most of it started.
Wilkerson’s Pond looked the same. The world might change, they might change, but the one constant was this stupid hole in the earth filled with water. The sight of it stabilized her, allowed her to breathe past her jumbled thoughts, and she spun on Jack ready to speak.
But the sight of him, all raggedy and tired and looking like he’d been as miserable as she had felt—he’d not even shaved, looking rough and sexy—left her speechless.
“Probably I could have gotten you something clever—maybe a gift card to a pet store or something to help you start that rescue you’ve always dreamed about creating, I don’t know—but punching Jim was truly my pleasure. Anyhow, you might not count that as a gift, but it was if you really step back and look at things logically. Happy birthday, Red.”
Tears erupted, no matter how fast she blinked them back, and she finally found her voice. “I don’t want a present. I don’t want to have pushed you away. I can’t ever be what you need, and I recognize that, but I can’t live without you either, so we’re going to have to fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix, Red. I accepted you for who and what you are a very, very long time ago. I can’t live without you, either.” He reached out and tried to wipe away her tears and she swatted his hand away.
“Dammit, let me finish. You can’t comfort me. I’m the one who messed up and I’m sorry is what I’m trying to say. Are you even listening?” He’d unsnapped his belt and hers and worked to pull her across the seat and into his arms, regardless of her protest.
“I’m listening. I’ve been listening for years. You didn’t mess up, we’ve simply gone about this in a different way than most might have. That’s okay, though, because it’s our way.”
“Jack! Quit saying the right thing!” Bawling, she sobbed the words into his chest. “Quit being so damned perfect so I can tell you I’m sorry. I’ve been practicing a speech, a way to make it right, because I need you.” He didn’t answer, instead he stroked his big hand down her hair and she’d never felt anything quite as perfect. “Look, you have to listen, okay?”
“Okay.”
She backed up and braced her hands on his big shoulders, shoulders big enough to hold the weight of the world it sometimes seemed. Face to face, she blinked fast so she could see clearly, sucked in a cleansing breath, and began her well-rehearsed speech. “I messed up. I was so sure you’d be better off without me, or so I tried to convince myself that you would, that I shoved you away for years. Then, when you finally let me shove you away, I realized it wasn’t you I was protecting. Even that was selfish because I couldn’t live without you and if we never were really together, not for real, then I couldn’t ruin it and lose you. Well, it turns out it doesn’t matter because I lost you anyway and—”
Jack shook his head before interrupting. “You didn’t lose me, Chloe. I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
She smacked her open hand on his chest. “I asked you not to interrupt.”
“No, you told me not to.”
She waited, not able to stop crying, but refusing to finish her speech until he let her. When he finally smiled a little, his eyes still heartbreakingly open and sad, she continued. “I ruined it because I was afraid to try. Now, while I won’t ever be a nice girl—”
“I don’t want a nice girl. I want you.”
“Please stop saying the right thing for a minute so I can finish.”
“Sorry. Your speech is rather long, and I’d much rather kiss you. This week has been hell.”
She refused to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation. A hysterical sputter broke past her guard and she buried her face in his chest, unable to meet his eyes. “Well, my speech is almost over. Like I was saying, I might never be a nice girl, but I’m the one you’re stuck with. I love you, Jack. And if you leave me, I swear to God, your property is the last thing you should worry about because—”
Whatever stupid threat she’d planned to tack on was drowned by his mouth closing over hers. The kiss was desperate, tasted a little like her tears, and involved more than a little scraping of teeth on her lip. She didn’t care. It was everything. It was Jack. Good, bad, ugly, it didn’t matter. It was Jack.
So lost in his touch, she was startled when he dragged her clear of the truck to press her into the soft grass. “I need you, Chloe. I need you now, but I can’t do what I need in my truck.”
Her laughter felt clean, almost like she sloughed off the weight of her mistakes with it. “You can’t forgive me for years of being an idiot and have wild monkey sex in the grass with me. I messed up. I messed everything up. I have to find a way to make it right with us.”
“I told you, I don’t want a nice girl, I want you. I don’t want a w
oman who says all the right things, who realizes she’s in love early on and doesn’t leave her man tailing after her like a sick dog for years…I want you. I want your flaws. I want your smart mouth. I want your tears. I want to be by your side for all that life throws at us and I knew that when we were still kids. Look, it’s not your fault you were slower on the uptake—” He laughed as she pinched his ass. “But now that you’ve finally realized what a fantastic catch I am, can I please have a look at those fantastic breasts of yours? Because, baby, I also want your body.”
Pulling him into a kiss, she managed to back away once more. “That wasn’t the most romantic speech any man has ever uttered, Sir Jack of the hard cock.”
“Chloe, I already admitted that I know you’re not perfect. I’m not either. I’m just a man who loves a woman…and right now, I need you.” He accompanied his words by tugging her shirt up so he could cup her breasts in his big hands. “I think I’ve always needed you.” His words were punctuated by his expression, one any woman would love to receive. The stark hunger and primal desire etched on his face sent heat racing through her veins.
With that, she was done with words. She fastened her mouth on his and didn’t let him go, even has he stripped away her clothes with almost magical speed. When their bodies finally touched skin to skin, she swore it was a tangled mess of feelings from the past and the present and all their tomorrows tangled in one electrical slide of flesh. “Oh, Jack.”
“Mine.” He hissed the claim and, for the first time, she nodded, scraping her nails on his back. Urging him closer, she wanted fast. She wanted him right then, no waiting or preamble.
But he’d always been a patient man and once he’d acquired her agreement, he seemed determined to drive her mad. Between nips and nibbles, open mouthed kisses, and the feel of his calloused fingertips against her, she was soon begging him. “Please,” she whispered.
“I’m driving from here on out.” With that declaration, he lifted her hips and kissed between her legs. She bucked into the sensation, hungry for more of him, for all of him. While his mouth teased and licked at her clit, his fingers worked to find the bundle of nerves deep inside her. As if they’d made love moments before rather than years, he found the spot and soon she cried out in jagged gasps as he sent her spiraling to orgasm. “I’ve missed the taste of your surrender on my tongue. I’ve missed the way you tremble and shake as if you were about to shatter in a million pieces I’d have to assemble again. Most of all, I’ve missed this.”
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