Carried Away

by P. Dangelico

  There’s always the slightest edge of desperation in the way Jake makes love to me. As if he doesn’t seize what he wants right this minute, he may never get it, the latter being completely intolerable to him.

  Cupping my butt, he pulls me closer to the edge of the counter and steps between my legs, pressing his body against mine. “This is for you,” he murmurs, flexing his hips.

  As if we hadn’t already made love this morning at the break of dawn and once again in the shower.

  Only our underwear and my oversized t-shirt separate us, and yet the clothes only serve to heighten the sensation. He flexes his hips again, and I almost come from that alone. “Only you…” I feel the gentle scrape of teeth where his lips have been.

  Pushing against me, he sets a steady rhythm, and before long, I am seconds from going off. “Don’t come yet,” he growls.

  I barely remember my first name and he wants me to follow orders? “I’m coming,” I warn him.

  Shoving down his boxers, he yanks my underwear aside and enters me––the scream torn from my chest as I come.

  Holding me tightly, both of us breathing heavy, Jake waits for me to finish to starts moving in a wickedly lazy rhythm intended to drive me insane. It’s controlled and steady, and exactly what my body needs to reboot and begin the slow climb back up to free fall.

  “Jake…Jake…” His name means all things to me. Love and friendship and everything good. Everything I’ve been looking and hoping for. And since I can’t say any of that. Since I can’t tell him how I feel. I say his name.

  Digging my heels into his bubble butt, I urge him on. And being generous to a fault, he does. He gives it to me. He lets go of his vaunted control and gives me everything he’s got. And when he comes, I do too. We do it together. Two loners who found someone to need.

  “Is this supposed to be fun? Give me a head’s up when we get to the fun part,” I say, wheezing.

  We’ve been hiking up the mountain for the better part of two hours and according to the man I am madly in love with, we’ve got one more to go. “Seriously?” He’s not listening to me, his bubble butt keeps moving up the steep incline. Thank God for hockey butt; at least the view is worth it. “Jake! I need to stop and check some stuff…for work.”

  “You’re not checking Twitter.”

  “I am. It’s my job.”

  He chuckles, but at least he stops and turns. “That is not your job. Your job is to write. Twitter is for a bunch of people with a ton of anger who want someone to take it out on without ending up in divorce court or with a restraining order.”

  He’s not wrong. “Yeah, but it’s good for business, you cynic.”

  My feet can’t do it anymore. I sit my ass down on a flat rock, take off my backpack, fish out my water bottle and, you guessed it, my phone. “Some of us like to be part of society. But you go on ahead, Captain America. I’ll catch up in a bit.”

  “There are black bears all over this mountain.”

  “Then come back here and protect me.”

  “Told you it wouldn’t hurt to build a little muscle.” He smirks.

  “I am building muscle. I get a serious work-out at least twice a day now. Coached by a world-class athlete…although I’m not fond of his attitude right now.”

  He walks over, watching as I lift my arm up to try and catch a signal. One second later, I no longer have a phone because I watch it soar through the air in a gentle arc and land in a deep gorge.

  I scream. “My phone!!”

  “I’ll get you another one.”

  I am in shock. Barely able to breathe. Jake leans down and kisses me. When I don’t kiss him back because I’m in shock, he kisses me again.

  “Tomorrow,” I growl. “The second we get back. You’re buying me a new one.”

  He chuckles drily and takes a pull of his water. Meanwhile, I’m in deep, deep mourning for my phone.

  Looking over the mountain range, Jake’s expression gets suddenly serious. “You can’t get this in L.A.”

  He’s right about that. The beauty of this place always does take me by surprise. I don’t know why. I grew up here. It wasn’t all bad. There are horse drawn sleigh rides during Christmas and the most spectacular fireworks in July. There’s clean air and soul inspiring vista’s like this one.

  “Yeah, but you don’t have the Getty Museum and sushi on the Sunset Strip at midnight. You don’t have the Hollywood Bowl and Malibu Cove.”

  He turns to search my face. “And you can’t live without sushi at midnight?”

  I swallow, knowing full well what he means. I can live without sushi at midnight. I can live without all of it, but I’m pretty sure I can’t live without him.

  “Depends…”

  “Ready to keep going?”

  I nod. This is more than a hike, this is us on the precipice of something big.

  Jake offers an outstretched hand while I gaze at the intricate pattern tattoo on his forearm. It’s as familiar to me now as my own arm. We climb the rest of the way with very little talking, both of us have to reserving our energy. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that it’s time to put our cards on the table.

  My column is gaining readers every day and the Blackhawks want him desperately. How long can we continue to live in this bubble of bliss without the outside world sneaking in.

  “This is it,” he says when we finally reach a clearing at the top of a peak.

  Jake slides his sunglasses to the top of his head and looks over his shoulder at me with a spark in his eyes. He drops his much heavier backpack and comes over to take mine.

  From this vantage point you can see all three lakes with crystal clarity. The sun is so strong at this altitude that I can’t even take off my sunglasses. Ducking my head, I blink to give my eyes a rest and spot a small flat rock a few feet away. There’s writing on it. Faded. Barely legible.

  I love you always.

  “I’ve thought a lot about what you said––about your grand adventure.”

  My attention snaps back to the man I love, my guts fluttering with nerves.

  “When I was living in the projects with my mother I used to collect plastic bottles and cans for money. We needed it, but it was more than that. It was a way to keep my mind busy. A lot of the kids in my building were into some bad shit and my mother never like me hanging with them…anyway, after my contract with the Bears, I traveled a lot in the off-season. Thailand, Italy, Norway. I guess I was looking for a grand adventure too.” His earnest gaze meets mine. “But you know what…” He shakes his head. “It was no better than hunting for those bottles.

  “I love you. I love you so much it scares the shit out of me. But I won’t be the guy that holds you back from doing what you want...I think loving someone means you let them make their own choices. When I told you at the rink that I wanted all those things for you, and you thought I was making fun of you”––he shakes his head––“I wasn’t.”

  A second of silence passes and then I can’t wait any longer. I march up to him and throw my arms around his waist. “I love you too.”

  We set up camp and eat dinner. I packed sandwiches. By nightfall, we’re exhausted and tuck in early, both of us in one giant sleeping bag.

  “Where did you get this thing,” I ask as I inspect it.

  “Amazon.”

  I laugh and laugh. And Jake kisses me. He kisses me like he loves me. And I kiss him back like I love him more. Peeling my leggings and underwear down, he touches me between my legs with skilled fingers that make art so beautiful it makes me cry. Before long, I’m screaming my orgasm into a night sky littered with a million stars. The magic of the moment not captured in something artificial, but forever branded in my mind.

  Taking me by the hips, he positions me facing away and pulls me back against his erection, hard and hot against my skin. “This good,” he says.

  It’s all good. Everything with him is good. How could I possibly give it up?

  He enters me from behind, his hand under my thermal, over
my breast. His mouth near my ear.

  “I love you,” he murmurs over and over as he pumps into me.

  “Jake,” I cry out as I come. And when we’re done and he’s holding me and I’m so happy tears are running down my face. I whisper, “I love you always.”

  “Let’s go, Anderson.”

  This hike has kicked my ass. Ironically, I’m moving a lot more slowly going down the mountain, than I was going up.

  “Can we stop?”

  “We’ve got one hour left.” He turns to check me out. “Call mercy if you want.”

  I’m not calling mercy. No way. He’ll use that against me forever…or at least as long as we’re together. Which I hope is forever.

  I’m not even going to kid myself––if I had to choose between him and the life. I’ll choose him. I’d choose him every single time.

  “Babe…do you want to play again?”

  He stops finally. Had I known that was the password I would’ve used it hours ago.

  He turns and looks at me, shrugs. “A year ago I would’ve answered no. But…”

  “But now you do.”

  He nods once. My suspicion was correct.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Gaze cast down. “I don’t know…I don’t know.”

  “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Anything.”

  “A few months ago I watched the game, the Stanley Cup against the Penguins.” His face gets tight. It’s his defensive face. I know it well by now. “Did you get a concussion from that hit you took in the third period?”

  The look on his face has my fine tuned reporter’s antenna sounding the alarm that I’m over the target. “You were punched in the face. I saw the tape, Jake. Did they check you for a concussion?”

  Jake blinks, expression neutral. It’s a dead giveaway.

  “You did.”

  He starts walking down the mountain again.

  “Jake? Jake!” I run after him. Grabbing his wrist, I stop him and he lets me. “Talk to me. You said we would always talk this out. So talk to me. You had a concussion that night…why did you drive?”

  His shoulders fall. Turning, he faces me. “I had a concussion that night. Which is why I didn’t party in the locker room with everyone else.”

  “Then why did you drive?”

  It takes him forever to answer. “I didn’t…I wasn’t driving that night. Mike was.”

  I don’t think he could’ve said anything more shocking. I want to ask a million questions and nothing is coming out of my mouth.

  “Mike was driving?” He looks off and nods. “Mike was driving and crashed…why?”

  “The police fucked it up and I didn’t correct them. My blood came back clean and Mike’s was above the legal limit. It…it just made everything easier.”

  I bend over, hands on my knees, and take a deep breath, on the verge of hyperventilating. Jake rubs my back.

  “We had just won the Cup. It was easier for the team…for Karen to get Mike’s life insurance payout. If he had died with drugs and alcohol in his system and he was driving, the policy was void.”

  “But it wasn’t easier for you.”

  “Mike had a lot of debt.”

  “So you got screwed.” He makes a face. “You’re lucky to be alive. Mike could’ve killed you both…” I am so mad for him right now I want to resurrect that bastard so I can strangle him.

  “Babe…”

  “Mike was good to me. He was my best friend. I couldn’t let him down.”

  “Jake…” Reaching up, I take his face in my hands. “He let you down. All he had to do was ask, and the airport would’ve gotten you a driver.”

  “It is what it is.”

  He pulls my hands away from his face and starts walking again. Neither one of us says a word the rest of the hike.

  Chapter 19

  “Darling!”

  There’s only one person that calls me that and that same person also has a slight British accent.

  Ben is sitting on the porch of the Austen when Jake and I return from our hike. He stands, beaming at me, looking handsome in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and designer jeans.

  I would have preferred him to look haggard and pale but no, he’s looking as fit as ever with a deep tan and slightly longer hair.

  “I’ve been waiting all day.”

  In contrast, Jake and I walk up looking sunburnt and as worn-out as a dollar bill in a strip club. Ben’s line of sight moves over to Jake. Lifting his aviator sunglasses, he gives Jake the once-over and declares him a non-issue. This man’s arrogance knows no boundaries.

  “What are you doing here?” My tone communicates exactly how I feel about the subject.

  Jake walks past me, checks Ben out, and says, “First-best,” to me. Which makes me feel like crap. He needs me right now, more than ever, and instead I have to deal with Ben.

  Love truly is blind because now that they’re standing next to each other, I don’t know what I was thinking. There’s no comparison. Ben is a faded image in contrast to Jake’s bright, shiny colors.

  “Jake, wait…”

  “Come get me when you’re done,” he tells me without a backward glance. I watch him walk into the Hemingway looking more than a little bruised.

  “What do you want Ben?”

  He looks over his shoulder at the door behind which the love of my life disappeared. “Boyfriend trouble?”

  “No trouble at all. So, to what do I owe this visit?”

  Ben plays with the stem on his sunglasses. “I’m at ABC now.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I need you on my team.”

  “No,” I tell him right off.

  “Is there anywhere we can talk?”

  If I don’t do this now, and do it decisively, it will never end. “Inside,” I say pointing to the Austen.

  Ben follows me, glancing around while I go to the kitchen and get myself a tall glass of water. “Anything to drink? I have Diet Coke and Coke One. Pick your poison.”

  “No, thank you. I had lunch in town.”

  “You came a long way for nothing.”

  “I’m prepared to make a very generous offer, Carrie. You can write your own ticket. Anything you want.”

  “Anything?” I say leaning against the doorframe of the kitchenette sipping my water.

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to take no for an answer.”

  Ben sobers, his smile fading quickly. “Are we negotiating? Is that what this is?”

  “Jesus…I don’t remember you being this willfully thick. I’m not coming back. Not for all the rubies in the world. I have a good thing going here. I have my own column with the Gazette and there’s a good chance it’ll get syndicated.”

  “I’ve read your column. It’s…sweet and…entertaining but––”

  “But what?” All the old feelings of inadequacy come back. The rented mule syndrome. For so many years, I looked up to Ben and thought he hung the moon. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to want him to think well of my work.

  “It’s not you. You’re hard news and breaking scandals. You’re not charities for kids and old ladies that play…what do you call that sport with the brooms and the pots of stone. Really stupid sport––”

  “Curling. And trust me, it’s harder than it looks.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ben.”

  He smiles again. It’s his sly, victory smile. I’ve seen it a million times. “We’ll work out the details when you get to L.A.”

  “Oh, I’m not coming back. I’m thanking you for making it easier. You just insulted my work and simultaneously made me realize that breaking scandals is not my thing anymore. So thank you, Ben, for helping to make the most important decision of my life an easy one.”

  “You’re not coming back, are you?”

  “No.”

  Nodding, Ben looks around. “I have no
where to stay for the night.” He sounds positively downtrodden. I’m getting way too much satisfaction out of this. “Do you think I could stay here? I have a 6 a.m. flight to LaGuardia.”

  I have a man waiting for me next door.

  “Lock the door on your way out tomorrow.”

  There are times in life when one should exercise caution. This isn’t one of those times.

  “I choose you,” I say to the man I love as soon as I step foot in the Hemingway.

  Freshly showered, he’s in bed reading a book on child psychology. I’m pretty sure that was the sound of my uterus exploding.

  He looks up and runs his eyes over me. I’m still in my hiking clothes, my cheekbones on the dark side of crispy, and I probably smell. Suddenly, I’m rethinking my grand entrance.

  “Ben?”

  “He’s staying the night and leaving tomorrow early––for good…I’m not going back to L.A. He was offering me everything I ever wanted and I said no.” I laugh. “I thanked him. I actually thanked the arrogant prick. He made me realize that everything I want is here…the column. You…Mostly you.”

  “Come here,” he says, putting the book down.

  Shaking my head. “Let me take a shower first.”

  Jake gets out of bed and stalks toward me. Taking me in his arms, he picks me up and carries me into the bathroom where he undresses me. In the shower, he washes my body and hair, runs his big capable hands over ever inch of me while I return the favor.

  He makes love to me in the shower like he’s pouring out his soul. And when he’s done, I pour out mine. “I want to scream it to the world that you weren’t driving that night, that it’s not your fault that Mike is dead. That he was the irresponsible one…but I won’t. I love you, and if this is what you want, then I’ll carry it with you…you don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

  Three days later the proverbial poop hits the fan. I’m driving into town, to go food shopping, when I notice a long line of black SUVs driving around. No big deal. We get a ton of VIPs and the summer music festival has started. It’s days away from the Fourth of July.