by RC Boldt
“What if you get disoriented in the middle of the night and become frightened, Emma Jane? I’m certain Knox wouldn’t mind if you shared his bed. It’s a California king.”
“Knox, are you planning to take Emma Jane out on the water? It might be nice for old times.”
“Knox, honey, you’re picking at your food. You need to keep up your strength.” This remark received a hard glare in return.
“Sweet Pea, are you and Knox going to do some stargazing this weekend? Because the weatherman said it’d be clear and perfect conditions.”
The utterly serious expression on her granddad’s face nearly does me in. Finally, I excuse myself, claiming the need to ensure the banana tree in the backyard hasn’t been trimmed back too far by the lawn care workers I hired to come while I’ve been away. I’m certain my mother realizes what I’m doing, that it’s an excuse to escape, but she can’t argue since she’s made many loaves of banana bread from the product of that same tree.
I follow through on my claim and am checking the leaves and stalks to ensure nothing’s overcrowded when I detect the sound of the back door to the house open and close. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I spot Granddad.
Returning my attention to the tree, I note that the bananas should be ready to be cut and collected soon. I examine it thoroughly while I wait for the older man to approach. He soon sidles up beside me.
“You brought her here.”
I don’t turn to face him. “Yes, sir.”
“I wouldn’t have expected that a few months ago when we first spoke.”
He’s referring to when I first arrived in Jacksonville, and he called me to discuss “business.” As it turned out, that had meant we would discuss business and his granddaughter.
Even then, I’d tried to dodge his questions with care.
“There’s so much hurt between y’all, but you’ve come far.” He pauses, thoughtfully. “And you inviting her to stay here speaks of your feelings.”
I make a small derisive sound in the back of my throat. “My mother taught me to be hospitable. That’s all it means.”
He falls quiet for a moment. “But would she have agreed to stay here months ago? When you first got to Jacksonville?”
His sharply posed question sets me on edge. “I can’t answer for her.”
“Try.”
Between gritted teeth, I begrudgingly answer. “No, sir.”
Hell, she hadn’t seemed crazy about it when I’d originally brought it up. I had been the one to push the offer.
“Ah-ha! Progress has been made then.”
I turn to face the older man. “Progress? You call this progress?”
He nods once, perfunctorily. “I do. Because she had a choice. And in this case,” he cocks an eyebrow meaningfully, “she chose you.” He turns on his heel and walks away, toward the house.
It takes everything in my power not to call out after him with the agonizing reminder—the truth—that lingers.
Instead, I turn to face the water and mutter beneath my breath, “She didn’t choose me when it mattered.”
27
Emma Jane
I never thought they’d leave.
Throughout dinner, between Granddad and Ms. Caroline’s questions and comments, both Knox and I grew more than a little uncomfortable. This was confirmed when Knox excused himself to head outside. Once Granddad came back after briefly speaking to him, he’d had an oddly pleased expression.
Knox still hasn’t come back inside, and I don’t feel comfortable going out there. He’s made it obvious that he wants to be alone, so I head to the bedroom to get ready to turn in for the night.
After I’ve brushed my teeth and am crawling beneath the covers, my phone vibrates from where it sits on the bedside table. Reaching for it, there’s a FaceTime request from Madison. Leaning back against the pillows, I accept the call and her face pops up on the screen.
“Hey! How’s the Deep South treating you? Oooh!” Her eyes widen dramatically. “Have you decided to buy a truck, have a gun rack installed on the back, and fly the Confederate flag from it?”
I gasp with mock dismay. “How could you possibly leave out attending Mardi Gras balls, having crawfish boils, and inviting everyone we meet to go to church with us?”
She grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Go ahead and do it. You know you want to bless my heart right now.”
I can’t help but snicker. “You’ve done pretty well at stereotyping us.”
Madison’s expression sobers. “So really. How are things?”
I quickly give her the rundown. After I finish the recap, she lowers her voice. “Has he come back in yet?”
“I don’t think so,” I reply quietly. “He must have been out there for over an hour now.”
“Maybe he’s pondering the meaning of life.” She smirks. “Or realizing he’s madly in love with you. Still.”
“Not likely.”
“Well, maybe not, with you so”—she pauses to lean in toward the phone for a closer look—“obviously dressed for seduction.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Very funny.”
Madison smiles. “You know I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Get some rest and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Night.”
After we end our call, I toss my phone aside on the bed and let out a long breath. I’m tired, yet an antsy feeling is deep within me.
My eyes are drawn to the dresser—particularly to the top drawer where I discovered Knox’s collection of photos.
I worry my bottom lip with my teeth and ponder if I should do it. If I should dare open it and look at the contents. If I can handle the walk down memory lane.
But maybe, just maybe, it’ll be therapeutic and help me finally close that last door. Move on.
Before I know it, I’m up and my feet are carrying me over to the dresser. I carefully, slowly, pull open the drawer. Scooping up one thick stack of photographs, I carry them to the bed and settle back against the pillows to peruse my findings.
I’m thankful I’m not standing when I flip to the third photo because it would have knocked me off my feet.
Knox had taken a candid photo of me in the midst of my usual he loves me, he loves me not plucking of a daisy’s white petals. There’s a secretive smile playing at my lips and my features are so bright, so full of love for him that my breath lodges painfully in my chest.
I should put these back; I should stop right now if this is the effect one photograph has on me. But, like some sort of sadist, I keep going. When I come across our old prom and homecoming photos, I can’t help but smile at how young we look, at our cheesy grins, at the way Knox peered down at me with ardent pride and affection.
Hours pass by and deep down, I know I should get some rest, but I can’t manage to stop looking through the photos. Each one I pore over, whether it be of Knox and his friends after a baseball game or randomly hanging out, a photograph he took of me or those of us together, increases the nagging ache in the center of my chest. Finally, I set them aside with a long sigh full of melancholy, lined with what-ifs and questions I don’t have the answers to.
What if things had been different? What if I hadn’t left? What if I’d married Knox? Would we have been just as happy as we once were?
Once I return the photos to their designated place in the drawer, when I press it closed, a strange sadness washes over me. Like I’m closing a chapter in my life. Which is crazy since I closed that chapter years ago.
I closed it the day I left Mobile in my wedding dress.
28
Knox
I should be getting rest, especially since I know tomorrow night’s going to be a long one. The anxiety won’t seem to ease, though, which is why I finally crept from my bedroom and went back outside to sit on the dock.
Using my foot to shift the other chair and prop my feet on the seat, I release a long breath and watch the play of moonlight on the water. I’ve alwa
ys loved the peacefulness this place offers.
Even so, I still can’t help but be torn about my decision to bring EJ here.
As soon as she stepped foot in my house, it felt like she was supposed to be here, the sense of rightness that used to be so powerful even back then. But simultaneously, I could also hear a little voice in my head say, “This is a mistake. She’ll only hurt you again.”
Running an agitated hand through my hair, I stare out at the water, allowing my mind to give way to memories.
I’m down on one knee, my hand trembling as it holds the diamond ring. My nerves are shot, not because I think she’ll say no, but because I want this moment to be so perfect for her and to say the right words, to somehow communicate how much of an honor it will be to have her as my wife.
“Ever since you came into my life, it’s been brighter, better, and happier.” I swallow hard past the lump of emotion. “It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me.” Tears escape, slipping down her cheeks, as she gazes at me. “Let’s make some babies and grow old together, EJ.” With her hand in mine, I pause with the ring at her fingertip, my eyes silently questioning her.
She nods, more tears raining down her cheeks, and a smile forms on her lips. The instant she murmurs, “Yes,” is when it all comes together for me.
I can see it all like a movie playing in my mind. The two of us getting married, living in my house, and working hard at our careers, before we change the spare bedrooms into nurseries or rooms for the kids. Me teaching them how to fish, EJ teaching them how to swim, both of us teaching them how to cook our separate specialties.
I see our life together. One that I want with every breath I take.
And I’d be lying outright if I said that a part of me didn’t still want that life.
It’s a little past two in the morning when I finally make my way back inside and head down the hallway to my bedroom. Instead of being therapeutic, the time I spent on the dock, staring at the water, managed to make me feel more emotionally raw.
The doorknob turns just as I pass her closed bedroom door. My body tenses, and I fight the urge to sprint to my own room and rush inside like a damn wuss. Instead, I stop.
She steps out and immediately gasps, a hand flying to her chest. “Oh! Knox, you startled me.”
“Sorry, I was just coming back in from…” I lose my train of thought as my eyes drift down her form, taking in the sight of her. She’s wearing a pair of black, loose-fitting cotton shorts with a cotton tank top in the same color, and the way her nipples are tightening beneath the top makes it evident she’s braless.
My jaw clenches, my hands fist at my sides, and I channel all my willpower to resist the urge to kiss her. To just…touch her. To have another opportunity to love her.
Fuck. My eyes close with a wince as I attempt to drag in a deep, calming breath.
Wells was right. This was stupid. I should’ve known better.
“Are you just now going to bed?” Her voice is nearly a whisper.
I open my eyes and focus on a point just above her shoulder. Anythin other than the tempting woman standing before me.
“I tried earlier, but I couldn’t sleep. I went back outside for a bit.”
She stays quiet, offering no response, which causes my gaze to shift. I discover her regarding me with an expression teetering somewhere between anguished and pensive.
“Knox.” She appears to choose her words with great care. “Do you sometimes miss”—she pauses before finishing, and the last word comes out as more of a faint, breathy wisp—“us?”
I pinch my eyes closed briefly and roll my lips inward to stop the words from spilling out. All the damn time, EJ. All the damn time.
Instead, I merely offer a curt nod.
She takes a step toward me, and I immediately stiffen. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I was putting some things in the dresser.”
Shit. I forgot about the photos I’d stashed in the drawer. Wells had made me take each one of them down and out of the various frames around the house to stow them where I wouldn’t have to see them all the time.
“You can have them if you want.”
The words are out before I can even think. The way her head rears back, as if I’ve slapped her, takes me by surprise. Because it shouldn’t matter—none of this should still matter to her. Not anymore.
“Y-you don’t want them?” She asks this with that damn crease between her brows.
I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this right now.
“You know what I want?” I explode suddenly. “I want it all back! All of it!” I run my hands over my head, fingers clenching in the short strands of my hair and I tug slightly in frustration. “I would do it all over again even though I know”—I break off with a weary sigh and drop my hands to my sides—“it means we don’t end up together.”
She takes a slow, tentative step toward me, then another one, until finally, there’s barely a foot between us. We stand here, me clad only in my low-slung pajama pants and her in that tank top and shorts.
With her eyes locked on mine, she reaches for the hem of her tank top and, with aching slowness, lifts it up.
Her movements are so languid, almost tentative, as though she’s expecting me to stop her. As if I could ever deny this woman. She’s always had a hold on me like no other.
Emma Jane Haywood has always been the keeper of my heart and soul.
When she lifts the cotton tank up over her bare breasts before letting it drop to the floor, I lose all semblance of control. I move a hand to the back of her head, threading my fingers through the strands of her silky hair before my lips crash down on hers in a kiss that’s passionate and insistent. My other hand moves to her hip, and I steer her back against the wall, pressing my body flush against hers. I’m unable to restrain the rough sound in the back of my throat at the sensation of her bare breasts against my chest. The ardent way she kisses me back, the way her tongue collides with mine, it’s as though she feels the same ferocious desperation I do.
Her hands are all over me, moving from where they fist in my hair before skimming down my back and over my ass. When she grips it in her hands, tugging me even closer to press my hard-as-hell cock against her, our kiss turns molten hot.
Her body arches into mine, and my mouth swallows her moan when I rock against her. My cock is jutting against my pajama pants, aching to be set free, aching to be inside her. Caging her body against the wall, I slip a hand between us, beneath the leg of her shorts, and veer toward her center where I’m instantly greeted with scorching heat. I skim the pad of my finger along the crease of her entrance, already slick enough to coat my fingertip. As soon as I push inside, I tear my lips from hers with a hoarse groan. Our eyes lock and I take in the sight of her heavy-lidded gaze, her lips parted, breath coming in fast, harsh pants.
“Your pussy’s so damn wet for me.”
Heated arousal flares in her eyes at my words, and her body coats my finger with her slick arousal. Slowly dragging it out until only the tip of it remains, I add another finger and quickly slide both back inside her wet heat. The way her inner muscles clench around them makes my cock pulse with need. Her hand reaches out for me, fingers tugging at the waistband of my pants.
“Knox, please,” she pants. Her hips begin to buck, and she works herself over my fingers as I thrust them in and out of her.
“Tell me what you want.” My own voice sounds guttural, rough.
Her breathing is becoming increasingly labored. “I need you.” Her eyes flutter closed, and she murmurs, “Oh God,” before her hand slips beneath my pants and grips my thick shaft. “I need this. I need you inside me.”
I hook my fingers inside her pussy, and I’m confident she’ll come soon. Instead, she takes me by surprise when she places her other palm against my chest, guiding me back against the opposite wall.
She shoves my pants down to my ankles and drops to her knees before taking my hard length in her mouth.
&nbs
p; And I promptly lose all ability to breathe.
29
Emma Jane
“EJ.”
The way Knox utters this, with a reverence of sorts, urges me on. His fingers tighten their grip on my hair when I take him even deeper, hollowing out my cheeks. I release him from my mouth with a pop and drag the flared head along my lips. Running my tongue along the slit, I revel in his harsh groan before taking him as deep as I can. My mouth glides up and down his thick shaft, and just when I think he’s about to find his release, he pulls away.
I peer up at him, confusion lining my features. He merely offers me a lazy grin in return, helps me to my feet, and kisses me softly. Then he murmurs against my lips, “I need to be inside your sweet pussy.”
He steps out of his pants, leading me down the hall into what had been a spare bedroom, but I assume is now his master suite. He doesn’t allow me time to wonder about the room change, because he walks me backward until the back of my legs hit the bed and he strips me of my shorts.
“Get on the bed.”
He utters this command in a low, silky tone while he strokes his cock. His eyes remain locked with mine as his hand works his length, still slick from my mouth, from root to tip. As I scoot back onto the cool, cotton sheets, the sight of Knox’s large hand sliding up and down his thick shaft in tantalizingly languid strokes elicits a rush of wetness to my core. I press my thighs together to try to ease the rapidly increasing pressure, the flicks of heat setting my body aflame.
“Do you want my tongue inside you?” His voice is a low growl. “Or my cock?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips before I answer, and his eyes track its movement. “Both.”
His grin can’t be classified as anything except predatory. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Releasing the grip on his cock, he reaches for my ankles. He drags my ass closer to the edge of the bed, then spreads my legs apart. Our eyes remain locked while he lowers his face to where I ache for him the most. The instant he traces his tongue along the crease, my entire body goes rigid. A surge of wet arousal seeps from me, which he readily laps up.