by Taylor Hart
He thought about Parker. Dang, he had to do something to get him on board. He texted him. ‘We need you, bro. Do it for your Surf and Soup.’
Nothing.
Parker wouldn’t text back yet.
He texted him, again. ‘Do it for your brothers. Do it for me.’
At that moment, Tonya called him. He cursed and stared at her number. He’d promised her he would talk to her. He accepted the call. “Hello?”
“JJ,” she whispered, and he imagined she was on the tour bus, in her bunk.
“Hey.”
“I need you to tell me we can sort things out.”
He swallowed. “Tonya, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand why your dad dying made you not want to marry me.”
Guilt struck him. He actually had wanted to marry her when he’d asked. He thought of the best part of her, the way they connected through the music. “Tonya, I really value being business partners with you. I value creating with you.”
She started crying. “But you don’t love me.”
“Listen, I honestly thought some things in my past were finished, but they’re not. And it just changes things between us. I’m sorry.”
“You love someone else?”
He hesitated. “The truth, is there’s a girl I never stopped loving.”
“The girl next door.” Tonya sniffed. “That’s the song you keep writing and can’t ever finish.”
JJ regretted that Tonya was caught in the crossfire of all of this. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Does she love you, JJ?”
He clutched the phone tighter, wishing he had a straight answer to her question. “I’m hoping she might.”
Tonya didn’t speak for a long time.
“I’m sorry, Tonya. I really never meant for this to happen.”
“JJ?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She let out a long breath. “I’m letting you off the hook.”
“You are?”
“Everyone should have a chance with the one who got away.” With a light sigh, she said. “Maybe that’s our next song.”
“I think that would be a great song. Thanks, Tonya.”
“You’re a good man, JJ. You’ve been through a lot in life, and I still want to make music with you—for our fan base.”
He laughed. Tonya had always been driven by her fan base. But he was grateful she’d been so forgiving. She was a good person, just not right for him. “I’d like that, too. Again, thank you for understanding.”
“Bye, JJ.”
He ended the call, sucked in a breath, and then went to his knees to pray. “Dear Lord, please help me know what to do. Please help Chantel. Help her with whatever she’s struggling with, and help me to know what I can do to help, too. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
JJ finished his prayer and stood. Moving to his suitcase, he shuffled through his things until he found the box he’d carried with him for six years. He opened it, staring at the ring he’d never been able to get rid of.
He sat. So many things that would have been different if he had asked her to marry him all those years ago.
He put the ring back, then slipped on his tennis shoes. Might as well run, ’cause sleeping wasn’t an option.
Chapter 13
Chantel woke with a start, a loud knock sounding at the door. “Chantel!” JJ called from the other side.
She jerked to a sitting position, turning to look at the clock and seeing it was almost ten in the morning. “Crap.” She threw off the covers and rushed to the door, draping her sweater over her nightgown-clad body. She pulled back the door, and there was JJ, holding out a coffee. “I can’t believe I slept this late. We have to get going. Sorry.”
His eyebrows tugged up and he looked her up and down. “I’m glad you rested well. You clearly needed it.”
Gratefully, she took the coffee, thinking of all the times he’d brought her coffee over the years. Those glorious three months in Calgary when they’d been a real couple. Even though his elbow had been injured and he’d been broody at times, she’d thought their life would be like this forever. Today his eyes had the same intense look he’d had last night when he would have kissed her if she hadn’t run off.
Chantel sobered as she remembered how she’d ended everything with Dustin. She wanted to put it all behind her, but Dustin kept trying to text her and call her.
She cleared her throat. “How did you sleep?”
He broke eye contact, taking a sip of coffee. “Good. Perfect. I mean, SEALs learn to sleep at the drop of a hat.”
She let out a light laugh, knowing he was lying. “You mean SEALs know how to function with no sleep.”
JJ shrugged. “Should we leave in thirty minutes? It’s six hours to get to Dallas and to that museum.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me. I took the liberty of booking our tickets to the Destroyer game tomorrow!” He put his hand up.
She high-fived him, noting how nicely the black athletic shirt he wore stretched over his shoulders. The man was a finely tuned machine.
His appreciative gaze took her off guard. “You look good in the mornings, too.”
She glared at him. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Read my mind.” She marched into the bathroom and shut the door, but she could still hear him laughing.
After they stopped at the gas station to fill up and she bought some string cheese and two Ho Hos, they got back on the road.
Today, she was a bit more dressed up. She’d actually put on makeup and done her hair. It was silly, but she wanted to impress JJ.
She held up the string cheese. “I got some protein. Are you happy?”
“Barely.”
“What did you have for breakfast?”
“After my five-mile run, I had the hotel’s complimentary breakfast that you can only have when you are up before ten.”
She gave him a mock scowl. “No one likes a bragger, JJ. They just don’t.”
He laughed, slapping his leg. “Probably right.”
Her phone buzzed, and JJ glanced at her purse, then back to the road.
Chantel silenced the phone, and in the process she saw a bunch of texts from Dustin. Most of them were just him asking if she was okay, telling her he still couldn’t find her license. The last one was demanding. Please call me. I’m worried about you.
She took the path of least resistance and just texted him so she wouldn’t have to see a million texts from him. I’m fine. Getting to Dallas today. She put the phone away.
“Dustin?” he asked, still staring straight ahead.
“Yep,” she said casually, taking a sip of her coffee. “Did you talk to Tonya last night?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Yep.”
They silently agreed to drop the subject. She had to admit that a good night’s sleep and some caffeine had worked wonders. She eyed the Ho Hos. She wanted one, but she knew JJ wouldn’t approve.
He gestured to it. “Have your Ho Ho, and quit looking so sullen.”
They passed a sign advertising the Blackhawk museum. “Pedal to the metal; we don’t want to miss it,” she said excitedly, even though they were still hours away.
“Okay,” he said, smiling and pushing on the gas.
“Not that much metal!” she squealed.
As he slowed, he grinned and pointed to the sign. “It’s a war museum. Did you notice that?”
She hadn’t, but she didn’t mind. “Cool.” With a smirk, she added, “Maybe you’re in it.”
He grunted. “Stop.”
She nudged him. “C’mon, I think you deserve to be in a museum.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”
“Well, you’re a hero, J. Even with all of our differences, I’ve always known that about you.”
His expression hardened, and she took that as an implicit suggestion to drop the subject.
Silence settled over the car for a few minutes. Chantel couldn’t help b
ut ask something she’d wondered about for years. “So, what happened with the leg, J?”
He didn’t respond, staring out at the road ahead of them.
“Never mind. It’s fine.” Her heart sank upon seeing that look on his face. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She focused on her Ho Hos but only managed to eat half of one.
Without warning, he put his hand out. “Hey, aren’t you going to even offer me one?”
Glad that he wasn’t too shaken by her question, she handed him the uneaten Ho Ho. “All yours.”
He glanced at her. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
Her heart raced. Somehow, she didn’t think he was talking about Ho Hos.
After finishing the Ho Ho, he took a sip of water, then cleared his throat. “I always tried to pay attention to those little …” He let out a laugh. “My guys always called me the Blessed One, because I would just feel things. I’d gotten a reputation for getting the team out alive, ya know?”
She nodded. It took her by surprise that he was talking to her like this.
“We were looking for a bomb maker; it was right at sunset when we were dropped into enemy territory, and I knew—I knew something was wrong. I could just feel it.” He hit the center of his chest. “But that night, I didn’t know which way it was coming at us.”
How it would be, she thought, to be dropped into a place she didn’t know and to have to operate in the dark? She couldn’t even imagine.
“We put on our night vision goggles and were crawling through this space where the locals would literally come out to hunt military. No kidding.” He sighed. “We were working our way across this field, trying to get to an embassy, and like I said, it just felt wrong. It all felt wrong. Like this pressure on my chest, like I was walking in cement that was drying too fast.”
“J,” she said, suddenly nervous. She didn’t want him trapped in such a dark memory.
He jolted out of the memory and smiled at her. “It’s okay, Chan. I’m here.” He took her hand. “So, I gave the team the command to abort mission, and we turned back, which was awkward in the middle of field on our bellies. I called command on my radio, telling them to send the helo back to get us.”
She could barely breathe, thinking about how horrible this would have been for him.
“That’s when the shots started firing at us. From everywhere. There was no cover, so we went back to back and we returned fire, trying to pinpoint where the shots were coming from, but we had to haul back. We took off, running now, and I remember being so relieved my team was all beside me. The chopper was coming in, but I still felt that dread.” He stopped.
“What?”
His face was blank. “The chopper lit up. A missile hit it. My team ran to the east. There was a small shack of a building, and we took cover. I called the commander, and they gave us new coordinates for a pickup.”
She squeezed his hand tighter, trying to fathom how terrifying this would be.
“We made a break for it, but there was still a sniper firing at us. Like I said, this territory was brutal. The enemy was everywhere.” He breathed deep, clearly fighting back the memories.
She waited, wondering how he’d survived.
“We finally made it to the second rendezvous point and the chopper came down, but as I was getting on, a bullet hit the back of my leg.” He took his hand out of hers and pointed to the back of his prosthetic. “Right here. Went clean through my knee cap, shattering it. Then three more bullets hit my calf, tearing it apart.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “I was lucky. Two of my guys got their heads blown off that night.”
This stunned her. She had known that he’d lost people, but she hadn’t known this. “And that embassy you were supposed to go to?”
“Decimated.” His eyes were troubled. “An enemy bomb found it that night, too.”
She froze. “J—”
He sniffed, and she saw his eyes misting. “Dang,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Since Dad, it feels like I don’t have any control of my emotions.”
She hadn’t really put it together before, but he easily could have died. The thought hit her like a ton of bricks, hard in the center of her chest. She began to sob.
“It’s okay.” He took an exit, pulling off of the freeway.
She didn’t know why she couldn’t quit crying, but she was covering her face as years of pain threatened to burst out of her.
He parked the car and then turned to her. “Chan.” He tugged her into him, awkwardly trying to hold her over the center console.
“JJ,” she said, gulping through her tears. “I can’t believe it.” Going through that must have been awful. But she also couldn’t get something else out of her mind. She pulled back, staring up into his eyes. “Your whole team would have been dead that night if you hadn’t been with them.”
“Naw, someone else would have known.”
“No. God sent you back because you were meant to save them.”
His face contorted in pain. “I didn’t save all of them. I lost two.” He blinked hard and broke off, covering his face and turning away.
She found herself reaching for him, in the same messy, awkward way he’d been trying to reach for her.
He grunted through the tears. “Forget this.” He unbuckled and jumped out of the car in time to offer her a hand out.
She took it, her heart racing, but for the first time since JJ had left her alone on that tarmac, she admitted that she still loved him.
He put his hands on her face. So softly, so tenderly.
She saw his reddened eyes and felt his broken heart, and all she wanted to do was soothe him.
“Chan,” he whispered.
It had been inevitable, she realized, since he’d gotten on that bus and sat beside her. She’d known then that they would somehow end up in a position like this. She had known, and that’s why she’d fought it so hard.
“I think you should kiss me,” he whispered.
Every part of her lit up. “I can’t,” she said in protest.
Their foreheads were pressed together, and he smiled. “I think you can. Just press your lips to mine.” Gently, he traced her lip with his thumb.
Being so close to him, having him touch her, made her feel like an addict getting sucked under. She felt herself melting. “I’m a mess right now, JJ.”
He grunted. “If I’ve learned anything, Chan, it’s that most people are a mess most of the time. You’re a mess. I’m a mess. The only thing we might be able to fix is the mess that started a long time ago between us—the mess that never should have happened.”
She flinched. He would never know how true his words were.
He pressed her body against his. “Kiss me,” he implored.
She leaned in, and their lips met softly at first. He tasted like Ho Hos, and she kept kissing him, remembering the feel of his lips. He groaned, his hands pushing into her hair and cupping the back of her head. The strength of his shoulders surprised her as she let her hands skim them and then linked her arms around his neck.
Their lips found their rhythm—the rhythm they’d never forgotten. Kissing this man was like taking a hit of the most decadent chocolate cream-filled dessert, and she smiled and deepened the kiss. It would never be enough. She already knew how painful it would be to stop kissing him. The kiss meant everything.
He pulled back again, trailing kisses down her neck. “Chantel. Chantel. Chantel.”
“JJ.” She kissed the spot behind his ear that always drove him crazy.
It was impossible not to kiss him again. She slid her hands over his chest, to his back, feeling all those muscles and smelling his new scent. His hands tugged at her hair, making her groan.
Their lips touched again, and when he deepened the kiss, she felt herself literally go weak in the knees. She held him, her heart breaking and mending all at once. Snaking an arm around her waist, he gripped her tighter. They’d always had this between them. Fire.
Passion. Soul-searching depth. Everything.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood by the side of the road, making out, but a loud horn honking finally jolted them apart.
JJ was laughing next to her, his breath on her shoulder. “Dang, Chan.” He kissed her collarbone.
She watched as a trucker drove past, waving cheerfully at them, but she didn’t move. It was all too much. She’d just made out with JJ Kelly. That door, the one that had been closed off to him for six years, now lay open. She clung to him, struggling through her old emotions—desperate, needy, and confused. “What about Tonya?”
“Chantel Bonaparte,” he said, trailing kisses down her forehead to her jawline, and then her lips again. “That’s the only person I want to talk about.”
Chantel hugged him, wanting him just as much as she felt him wanting her. Her head pressed against his cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She’d put up all these walls between them, convincing herself that he was a horrible guy who’d left her. It had been a protective shield against the truth that she’d sworn she’d never tell him.
She would have to tell him. He deserved it, no matter how painful it might be. But could he ever forgive her?
Chapter 14
JJ pulled into Dallas, a little crazy with happiness. Kissing Chantel like that had been everything to him. All he wanted to do was find the nearest judge and marry her like he should have done six years ago.
How could they be together? Would she be able to give up coaching in L.A.? Would that still work now, because she and Dustin owned that business together, right? He thought about his tour situation and the songs he was supposed to write and perform with Tonya. Yes, it would all be messy, but he didn’t care. She was here, and he was here, and that was all that mattered. They would make it work.
His phone buzzed with a call from his brother, Ryan. He pressed decline and scanned for a gas station. He would call Ryan in a little bit. Consulting with his brother might clear some things up.