by Sarah Peis
“I know. She came to the garage. Dinner is at six. I’ll pick you up at five.”
And just like that I was going to dinner with his mom. It was going to be fine. As long as I did my washing this week so I had something to wear. And acted like a normal human being. Sounded easy enough. I could keep it together for a few hours.
I could definitely not keep it together for a few hours. As soon as we pulled up to the farmhouse, my breathing started accelerating. I had donned my one and only black dress, opting for a conservative look to make a good second impression. Especially since I wasn’t exactly dressed the first time I met his mom.
Even Jameson was wearing a collared shirt, the only concession he was willing to make, matching it with dark-washed jeans and his usual boots. He looked so good that when he picked me up, it made me scramble across the bench in his truck and onto his lap to proceed to make out with him like a horny teenager.
Not that he complained, quite the opposite really, but now we were late, and I was experiencing the shivers of the uninitiated. The Drakes were a tight-knit family. Jameson’s dad died when he was little, a well-known fact around town. They were brought up by their mom, who did the best she could raising two testosterone-filled teenagers.
Mrs. Drake opened the door before Jameson had a chance to knock and pulled him into a tight hug. After patting his cheek, she turned to me.
“Willa. So glad you could make it,” she greeted me as warmly as her son.
Jameson and Mason might be closed off to outsiders, but once you breached their walls, they were loving and kind. His mom was the bomb. I was still nervous, but at least the cold sweats had stopped, and I was walking forward instead of backward.
“Come in. Mason just got here.” She led the way; Jameson put his hand on my back, guiding me behind his mother.
The house was cozy, the walls filled with photos of Jameson and Mason as kids.
We entered the living room, and Mason got up from his position on a comfortable looking couch. He slapped Jameson on the back in greeting and picked me up and twirled me around. “Willa. Let the initiation into the Drake clan begin. I hope you like snake venom.”
“Mason, don’t scare her away,” Mrs. Drake said. “Put her down.”
Mason did as instructed and gently placed me back on my feet. “Don’t worry, there is no snake venom. Just a lot of whiskey,” he whispered in my ear before releasing me.
The conversation was easy, and the tension seeped out of my body until Mrs. Drake started talking about their Christmas Party. “You will love it Willa. Everyone gets together, and there is lots and lots of food. Even eggnog, if that’s what you’re into.”
“She’ll be there,” Jameson answered for me, and I nearly choked on my own spit. I hope he realized that it was FIVE MONTHS AWAY.
I gave him my version of a puzzled look, both brows raised, because come on people, it was simply too hard to do the whole one-eyebrow thing. He squeezed his arm around me in response and pulled me closer, kissing my head. Another thing I loved about him. If he wanted to touch me, he did it without reservation and without care of where we were.
I sank into his side, letting the conversation flow around me and enjoying just being close to him. Dinner was amazing; Jameson cooked the steak outside on the grill while I helped his mom prepare the salad and potatoes. Dessert was a pineapple upside-down cake that melted in your mouth. There was no awkwardness to be found, the family clearly comfortable with each other. They included me into their conversations, and I found myself having fun.
They were nice. Really nice. And they genuinely cared. I loved every minute of being there, being part of a family who had dinner together, who shared what they did during the week, who made sure everyone was okay.
I never realized all that I had missed out on, but one night with the Drakes showed me what life could have been like.
Jameson noticed I had gone quiet, and he put his hand on my leg under the table and leaned closer. “Are you okay?” He studied my face, and what he saw didn’t seem to please him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m good, just tired.”
He didn’t hesitate and said, “Then we’ll go home.”
He turned to his mom and got up. “It’s getting late, so we’d better head off. Thanks for dinner.” He hugged her tight. “See you next week. Mason, don’t forget to get the Charger done tomorrow. Steve wants to pick it up on Tuesday.”
Mason grumbled under his breath, sounding something like an agreement, and after Mrs. Drake pulled me to her and whispered in my ear how happy she was Jameson and I were finally together, we were out the door.
Jameson was quiet when we got in the car, but I wasn’t exactly a chatterbox either. I could hear my phone vibrating but ignored it. It started again as soon as it stopped. I fished it out of my bag and frowned at the unfamiliar number.
“Willa speaking,” I answered.
“Honey, it’s Lucy. Can you come down to the hospital?”
“Lucy? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” My body had gone tight. Jameson noticed and reached over to touch my leg in silent support. Lucy practically lived at the police station. She was an institution, not just a receptionist. If she was at the hospital, something bad must have happened.
“It’s best if you come here, and I’ll tell you.”
“No, tell me now. What happened?”
She must have heard the resolution in my voice because she gave in. “It’s your dad. They brought him in an hour ago, and he’s in surgery. I tried calling you earlier, but you weren’t answering.” That’s because I was busy playing happy families with a family that wasn’t my own. The guilt crashed over me and held on, clawing at my insides.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll wait downstairs for you.”
I hung up and turned to Jameson. “Can you take me to the hospital?”
“Of course. What happened?”
“Dad’s there. I don’t know what he did this time, but he’s in surgery.” My voice broke, and I choked back a sob.
“Babe.” One word that held more meaning than anything else. One word that told me he would be there for me. One word I treasured hearing from his lips.
We made it to the hospital in less than ten minutes. Jameson bent a few road rules along the way, something very much out of character for him, and dropped me off at the entrance. “Go inside. I’ll park the car and be there in a minute.”
I nodded and jumped out. His voice stopped me from closing the door. “He’ll be all right.” He paused and smiled at me. “And so will you.”
With his words swirling in my head, I rushed inside. Lucy met me in the lobby, her resigned expression not inspiring confidence. She took my hand and guided me to the waiting room and onto a chair. I followed meekly, too numb to protest. Lucy daintily perched on the edge of the chair next to me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and found my voice. “Tell me what happened.”
“Garret had a heart attack. They brought him straight in but had to perform emergency surgery.”
I was expecting a bullet wound or a beating, but I never once considered the possibility of a heart attack. I nodded, my eyes wide, my thoughts going from guilt to worry and back to guilt again. I felt myself drifting, like a boat without a motor.
That’s when an arm snaked around my shoulders and I was pulled into a familiar body. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Jameson. My anchor.
Lucy’s eyes went wide, and she looked Jameson up and down, not hiding her obvious delight. She winked at me, squeezed my hand, and got up. “I have to get back to the station. Call me if you need anything, honey.”
I nodded again, the only movement my body would allow at that moment. Lucy’s heels clicked on the floor on her way out, the sound echoing off the walls.
Jameson stayed next to me, offering his support any way he could. He read me well and knew I didn’t want to talk. Instead of pushing me, he brought coffee and told
me about the time Mason was shot in the ass while out hunting with his friends.
A nurse came in to get a few details, but Lucy had given her most of the information that she needed already, so the conversation was brief. Jameson was an unwavering presence by my side, his arm firmly around my shoulder, offering silent support.
After countless hours of sitting around and waiting, a tired-looking doctor dressed in scrubs walked into the waiting room.
“Willa Montgomery?”
I shot up and sprinted over, Jameson only a step behind me. “Is he okay?”
“I’m Doctor Caldwell. Your dad will be fine. We had to perform an angioplasty. What that means is that we widened the blocked areas with the help of a balloon to increase the blood flow to his heart. We also inserted stents to help keep his arteries open and reduce the chance of another attack. The operation went well, and he’s in recovery but will be moved into a regular room soon. He needs to take it easy from now on and most of all change his diet.”
That didn’t surprise me since his diet consisted mostly of alcohol and cigarettes. Good luck trying to change him. I’d tried many times over the years to get him to stop destroying himself, but all attempts fell on deaf ears. And I was tired. So tired.
“When can I see him?” I asked, and Jameson squeezed my hand.
“As soon as he’s in his room. I’ll get the nurse to let you know once he’s all set up.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
He nodded at me, then Jameson, and left the room. I let out the breath I had been holding. Dad would be fine.
Jameson turned me to him, my front now pressed to his, two big arms creating a protective cocoon around me. “What can I do to make this easier?”
I wondered if anyone would notice if I ripped his pants off and gave him a blow job. He was just too perfect. But instead of risking arrest for indecent exposure, I said, “You’re already doing it.”
His hold tightened, and my arms snaked around his bulk. We stood there for a while, Jameson kissing my neck, and I burrowed closer. His gentle strokes calmed me and made me forget where I was. They also made my hands wander.
A throat clearing interrupted what would otherwise sure be known as the longest hug-turned-groping session. A nurse watched us with raised eyebrows. “Mr. Montgomery has now been transferred to his room. You can go see him if you want.”
Jameson answered for me, since I seemed to have lost my voice. “We do. What’s his room number?”
“Third floor, room 46.” She walked off, leaving Jameson to lead us down the long corridor and into the elevator.
I hung my head, staring at the ground, holding back the tears and reminding myself that Dad was okay. I mindlessly followed Jameson, who never let go of my hand. We got out of the lift and went to Dad’s room only to pause at the closed door. I was scared to open it. Maybe Jameson could distract me again.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” he asked.
There was no way I could make my feet move without him next to me. “No, I want you to come in. I mean, if you’re okay with it. Of course you don’t have to, but I’d love it if you did.”
He kissed the side of my head. “Of course I’ll come in.”
He opened the door, and we walked inside. Since I was still gripping his hand in a death hold, I was forced to follow. It was either that or letting go, and there was no way I would release my lifeline.
Dad was propped up in bed, looking small amidst all the tubes and needles poking out of him. I inhaled sharply, not prepared for the view in front of me. He was always moving and talking, never one to stay still. The person in the bed looked nothing like him. He was pale and motionless.
“Dad,” I said, my voice croaky from the tears I desperately tried to hold back.
He opened his eyes and blinked at me a few times. “Honey, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? I’m here because you had a heart attack. I’m here because I’m your daughter. I’m here because I love you.” Slight overreaction? Maybe. But my emotions were anything but contained.
“Honey, I’m fine. Just a little mishap.”
“Right. A little mishap. Did they tell you what caused your little mishap?”
He looked away, embarrassment written all over his face. “Sometimes these things just happen. You know how it is.”
“I do know how it is. And when I talked to the doctor, he told me you need to change your diet and take it easy for a while.”
“I will, honey. Nothing to worry about.”
“Well, see, that’s just it. I do worry. I worry about you all the time. I don’t want to lose my dad because he’s made one bad choice after another.”
That seemed to make him think, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he looked out the window, lost in his head. I knew that was as much conversation as I’d get out of him.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” I stepped closer to the bed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You should try and get some sleep.”
“All right, sweetheart. I will.”
He turned his head away from me, and I knew I was being dismissed.
Jameson drove us back to his apartment. It was dawn, and I was dead on my feet. I needed a shower to wash the hospital smell off me. And a bed.
I stood in the bathroom, unsure of how I got there when Jameson came inside, carrying a towel. “I forgot to restock the bathroom.” He set the towel down on the sink and walked up to me until we were almost touching. “Need some help?”
He pointed at the shirt that I had pulled halfway up. I hesitated a moment too long and he took it as an invitation. His hands skimmed up my body, taking the shirt with them. I lifted my arms, too tired to protest. He threw the shirt on the floor and undid the button of my pants and slid them down my legs, taking my panties with them. My bra was next.
I kept standing in the middle of the bathroom like a log, my mind blank, my body exhausted. He turned the water on and took his clothes off. Normally my eyes would be glued to his body. I would drink him in and hope I didn’t miss an inch of his delectable body. But my vision was blurry, and I was unable to focus on anything.
Jameson led me into the shower and nudged me under the spray. The warm water was heaven to my tense muscles. When he began to shampoo my hair, I nearly melted into a puddle on the floor.
His fingers massaged my scalp with just the right amount of pressure. When he was done, he carefully rinsed me off and proceeded to put soap on every part of my body, his strokes slow and gentle. I sank into him, grateful that all I had to do was stand there. His hands lingered over my breasts, making sure to give them proper attention. I was ready to give in to anything as long as he kept touching me.
But instead of taking advantage of the situation, he nudged me back under the spray until there was no soap left. His hands continued to glide over my skin. I wished I wasn’t so tired.
He kissed my shoulder before leading me out of the shower and wrapping a towel around me. Not the ending I expected, but the only one I could handle at the moment. He kissed me on the lips and rubbed his thumb over the spot he just kissed. “I left you one of my T-shirts on the bed. Go and sleep, babe.”
He turned me around so I was facing the door and stepped back into the shower. I staggered out of the bathroom and managed to dry myself off half-heartedly and tugged the T-shirt over my head. I face planted on the bed and was out like a light.
When I slowly woke up, my eyes were heavy, my body not ready to move yet. I was too hot, my skin burning up. I tried to find my way out of the blankets but couldn’t move.
And what was a girl to do but panic in a situation like this? My eyes shot open, my limbs started flailing, and my head smashed into something hard.
A loud groan sounded from behind me, and I realized I was in Jameson’s bed, his big body half on top of me. I really needed to stop waking up like this.
“Babe, what are you doing?” His raspy voice stopped my jerky movements.
; “I didn’t know where I was and started panicking. Sorry for the headbutt.”
He turned me around, so we were both on our sides, facing each other. One arm was still under my head, holding me in place and making a great pillow, and the other was under my shirt, drawing circles on my rib cage. “I’ll live. Let’s hope I won’t get a shiner because that would be hard to explain.”
I untangled my arm from the blankets and cupped his cheek. “I’ll just tell everyone you defended my honor and sacrificed your pretty face in the process.”
He huffed and tickled my side, making me squirm. “Pretty? You mean ruggedly handsome.”
“Beautiful.”
More tickling.
“Manly.”
I tried to put some distance between us, but he was having none of it, holding me in place good and tight. “Cute.”
“There is nothing cute about me, woman. I think it’s time to remind you of my manliness.”
He pulled the blankets over us and skirted down my body. I liked the direction this was going.
And he most definitely reminded me of how much of a man he was. Can’t say I minded the way he showed me, either.
“You asked for three headlights, so I ordered three headlights. Before you say something you’ll regret later, yes, I know a car only has two. I figured you might want extra just in case.”
Mason ground his teeth, clearly trying not to stuff the rag he was holding into my mouth to shut me up. “Why would I order three fucking headlights? It’s only one car. Doesn’t make sense.”
I was standing in Mason’s car bay, and Landon was leaning against the hoist, enjoying the show. We were arguing about the latest shipment when a voice stopped me before I could really get into my tirade.
“No wonder you’ve forgotten all about your friends.”