A new beginning.
The promise of something fresh.
I felt the call of it myself just around the corner.
The beginning that winning a big fight would mean.
The beginning that retirement from the military and the next phase of my life offered.
There was even the seed of the idea that reconnecting with Alexandra might lead to a new beginning.
Not that things need to be easy.
It’s just, how do you know if it’s worth the risk? Worth the possible cost to the people you love?
“It hasn’t been easy, though,” I say carefully.
She smiles.
“No, it hasn’t. And I’m not even sure that I’m not making the same mistakes, wrestling with the same demons. There’s no guarantee, Jack. A fresh start doesn’t necessarily mean an easy one,” she says, and it sounds like a warning.
I nod.
“But doing things on your own terms? Really living your life instead of doing what’s expected of you – or worse – what you assume you have to do to right some old wrongs? That’s worth a lot,” she smiles.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to do the right thing.
Trying to make sure that I never become the man my father was.
Her words are kind, but they’re cutting me like razors.
When I look out at that harbor, the only thing I saw when she talked about Bryan was another sign of my failure.
Of her loss.
Of a tragedy I’d been in the wrong place to prevent.
And when Alexandra looked at it?
She saw joy and shared memories and a chance to honor her brother’s memory through living her life.
Not because it was easy.
Not because she didn’t feel the pain.
She’s wrestling with a kind of pain that’s all too familiar to me.
“You were just a kid, Alix,” I hear myself say.
“And you were on another continent, Jack. Logic knows one thing, but sometimes the heart says something different,” she says as she moves a little closer to me.
I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the icy winter air.
She chose to do the harder thing: to try to let it go and embrace a new beginning. And then to keep going even though it was hard.
What had I done?
I’d seen my ex’s accidental pregnancy as a sign of irresponsibility on my part.
I’d been so focused on trying to make everything right that I’d really never looked to see if that was what anyone wanted.
Could I have given my ex-wife another option?
Could I have looked at what I wanted at that moment and found some way to co-parent with her that wouldn’t have trapped us both in a marriage we didn’t want?
I don’t know.
But I know I’d be so focused on that one path – that one script to make things right – that I’d never even stopped to consider other options.
I’d gotten so stuck on the idea that honoring my fallen men meant being guilty of that loss. Maybe that would always be part of it. Yet, I’d failed to see that maybe honoring them also meant living my own best life.
One free from useless recriminations and guilt.
That maybe that’s what their families wanted, at least at a point.
Not the apologies, but the memories.
The joy.
If Bryan had a way to look back, he’d be pissed at me for wasting time.
He’d be razzing me for bringing up this shit and making his favorite and only sister, as he’d called her, sad when she was trying to find a way to stay positive.
In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d also tell me that I was wasting my own life.
If anything was true about that kid, he knew how to live.
Bryan was always laughing, always trying something new. Squeezing every bit of life out of living.
Could I say the same?
The fading winter light is pale, and there’s a bright pink slash across the sky where the sun sinks below the horizon. Alexandra’s looking out at the water, and I can’t seem to take my eyes from the profile of her face.
The light catches strands of auburn and gold in her hair, mixed in with brown. The blue of her jacket is contrasts with her eyes, which are an electric shade.
“Sometimes, I feel it even now at the shelter, that fear that I can’t save them all,” she says. “But then I remember how amazing animals are that I find. The dogs, the cats and the occasional alpaca are miracles to me, Jack. They found me so that I can help them find their forever family.”
I look at her, admiring her tenacity in the face of all this adversity.
Her passion.
The joy.
Her love of living.
The impact that she is having.
Maybe it’s the impact that I can have.
“It’s not all good, and it’s not all bad, Jack,” she shrugs. “But, it’s all’s mine.”
I hug her against me.
All mine.
Now that’s something to consider.
I stand up, and when she rises uncertainly to her feet, I dip my head to hers and kiss the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen under a fading winter sunset.
Maybe there’s a chance for new beginnings, after all.
8
Alix
Jack buys lumber and other supplies at the hardware store. I try to pay, frantic at the thought of him spending money he could use instead to travel to see his son, but he shakes his head.
When I finally relent, he gives me a satisfied grin that causes warmth to start in my chest and spread out, blossoming across my entire body.
Jack drives us back to the shelter and makes sure I am settled in the house, with the doors locked and the alarm on. Then he sets up lights and gets to work, by starting to frame out the inside of the cat building.
“Couple of days work,” he says with a shrug. “Easy.”
I offer to help, but the reality is that I have bookkeeping to do for the shelter. I need to finish that, and at least two shifts worth of remote insurance work, by Christmas.
A couple of hours in, I fill a thermos with hot chocolate and bring it out to Jack.
He smiles when he sees me coming and stops working long enough to eat cookies and drink the chocolate. Then, he hands the cup back.
“I’m going to stay out here and see what I can get done,” he says, and immediately gets going.
I’m so overcome with gratitude.
I take the plate and cup inside and wash them.
I can’t stop thinking about that man, regardless of how much I try.
I decide to do some more much-needed chores.
Reluctantly, I take care of the animals, and once that’s wrapped up, head back into the house, where I manage to find a space on the couch for my laptop and a pile of reports.
I don’t know how much time passes while I work.
I yawn and try to focus on the blurry reports on the screen. After a while, I’m nodding off.
At some point, I fall asleep.
I wake up in Jack’s arms, my head resting on his broad shoulder while he carries me to bed.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft and close to my ear.
In an instant, I’m wide awake.
The idea of Jack in my bedroom, and the possibility of where that might lead, has me in sensory overload.
Just the barest thought of him in my bed leaves me electrified.
He puts me down very gently and starts to slide a blanket up over me when I grab his hand.
My skin touches his, and a spark jolts between us. I give him a tug down onto the bed. He sits, shifting around so that it’s obvious he’s aroused.
“You could stay,” I say carefully.
It’s not a good idea.
He tips his head back and looks at the ceiling.
“Alix, you don’t know how much I want to say yes to that.”
“Then say yes.”
His eyes come to m
ine, and I can see the heat in them even in the near total darkness.
“It’s not that simple,” he tries.
“Maybe it’s not that hard.”
A tight laugh.
“Oh, it’s hard, all right,” he chuckles.
Desire shoots through me.
“There’s something I need to say,” he says, but his voice has an edge.
Long moments pass in the dark, so long that I think he might not speak.
“Promised myself I wouldn’t mess around with anyone’s hearts. Including my own, Alix…” his voice trails off.
I sit up, and we’re just inches apart.
“What I’m trying to say is that it’s been a while.”
He tilts his chin up, and I reach out. My hand finds his and I thread our fingers together.
“Since the divorce and a good while before that, Alix.”
A lot of pent up frustration.
A lot of pent up feelings.
A lot of pent up heat.
At the thought of it, my core goes molten. There’s no question that this big, athletic, strapping man would be amazing in bed. From the electric connection flowing between us to the desire for intimacy he has, it’s clear that he could rock any woman’s world.
But underneath it all, there’s obviously a heart that’s been damaged.
Vulnerability.
The idea of me protecting him seems ridiculous.
Yet, I’m overcome with the urge.
When I speak, I keep my voice as gentle as I can.
“Is that because you’re trying to do the right thing, or because that’s the right thing for you?” I ask, quietly.
His fingers tighten on my hand.
“Right now, my body’s saying only one thing. I need some time to figure that out.”
I lean forward and put my lips to his in a chaste kiss, ignoring the lightning bolts of pleasure that rocket down through my body.
He groans, and I run my fingers across his cropped hair.
His lips curve into a smile against mine before he pulls back.
“I better get to that couch,” he says regretfully.
He pauses at the door.
“I’m thinking of going for a run in the morning,” I say, as I stare at his big form outlined against the light from the living room.
“Okay,” he immediately looks alert.
“Do you have any problem with that from a security point of view?”
He considers and then shakes his head.
“Just text me when you go, and if I’m up, I’ll join you,” he says. “Good night, Alexandra.”
He stands in the door a moment longer and then pulls it shut.
For several long minutes, I stare in the dark at the ceiling, then drift to sleep.
It’s a fitful sleep, and just after five, I rise, pull on workout clothes, and strap on my running shoes.
Jack looks peaceful when I pass, but then he stirs.
“You okay?”
“Just going for a run. Back in a few,” I whisper, and head out the door. Cookie whimpers from somewhere and when my eyes focus, I realize the dog is curled up on the couch with Jack, wrapped in a blanket.
My lips curve into a smile as my feet hit the pavement.
There’s a loop in the woods of my property that’s pretty private.
It’s always felt safe.
It seems like a good choice to get some exercise and blow off steam this morning.
Heading in that direction, I’m soon picking up speed and moving through the icy morning.
The last few days have been tense, and it feels good to let some of that go.
There’s a light coating of snow and ice, and the sound of my feet hitting the hard ground rings out.
That’s when I hear it.
A second sound of steps. At first, it sounds like an echo.
A reverberation of my feet pounding the crunchy ground.
Then, I can hear the sound increase as whomever it is approaches.
My heart’s starting to pound and blood pumps through my veins.
What began as mild discomfort escalates to pure terror.
I’ve gone another tenth of a mile before I’m 100% sure that someone’s following me.
There’s not a lot I can do. I am at the halfway point on the loop.
Turn back?
Keep going?
I slide my phone out of my pocket and key up Jack’s number.
He added his number to my emergency contacts.
I quickly text three words.
“Help. Wooded loop.”
I just pray that he remembers what that means.
Trying hard not to break stride, I pick up my pace a little.
There’s a moment of dissonance in the footsteps, and it’s clear that two people are running out of sync.
My lungs tighten, and I can hardly breathe.
A few more moments pass and I focus on just keeping moving.
Getting closer to safety.
That’s when I see it, a flash of movement coming toward me on the path. A form running headlong in my direction.
At first, that fear escalates that pure terror, but then I recognize it is Jack.
He’s wearing nothing but his silk training shorts and a t-shirt.
It’s freezing.
His speed is staggering, as he barrels past me and into the woods.
“Jack?” I call, but he doesn’t even pause, just smashes ahead.
I can’t tell what he’s focused on, but I hear a crash, and then the sounds of branches breaking.
I don’t know whether to plunge after him, wait, or just run back to the house and call the police.
Moments go by, and Jack rockets back out of the thick cover of the woods.
“Are you hurt?” he demands.
His hands go reflexively to my body and he’s examining my face.
It takes me a minute to answer; the breath knocked out of me, and my lungs are tight from the running, cold, and fear.
“Alix, are you hurt?” his voice takes on a more frantic edge.
“No, I’m okay,” I grit out.
My eyes are on the woods.
“Is Walker an athlete?”
Without hesitating, I nod.
“Long-distance runner.”
“That fucker,” he growls, the intensity of his anger so terrifying I almost take an involuntary step back. “Saw the hair. Curly blond hair. Too much of a lead on me to reasonably catch, and I had to get back to make sure you were okay.”
My stomach drops.
I don’t know if that’ll be enough for the police, but it’s something.
Jack is staring at me hard, some unreadable expression in his eyes.
“I was getting up to run and got your text. I thought….”
His voice trails off, and it’s clear what he thought.
He thought that I was in real danger – and maybe I was, judging by the flood of adrenaline and hormones soaking through my body right now – and the look of pain as he contemplates that idea stops me in my tracks.
Everything has gotten so much more complex.
9
Jack
“There’s a cut on your face.”
I turn away. She hates blood.
But her firm hand on my bicep stops me.
Turning back, my breath hitches. Her wide blue eyes look at me with concern, and for one reckless minute, I imagine reaching down and putting my lips on hers.
Again.
Even just the image has my cock iron hard.
Don’t read something into this that’s not there, soldier. That’s how hearts get broken.
“Let’s get back to the house,” I say. “I’ll clean up.”
She makes no move to go, and even here, my body’s reacting to her presence.
I was fucking terrified when I got that text.
How could I have been so careless?
I’d assumed she’d take dogs with her for a run, and that somehow they’d keep he
r safe.
That’s not their job.
That’s my job.
And I’d fucked it up.
Gotten distracted.
Let someone very precious get in the way of danger.
The air’s icy cold on my skin and the woods smell all wintery with the scent and pine and fresh snow. Beyond that, just a trace of her lilac perfume pushes into the air from the heat of her body.
I’ll dream of lilacs now.
“Why didn’t you call me? Really?” she demands suddenly.
After you got stationed here.
After your divorce.
Such an odd question, one we’ve danced around a hundred times.
Such strange timing, and yet not.
But then, she clearly sensed that wasn’t the real answer.
That it maybe wasn’t the whole story.
A thousand answers claw their way out of my mind.
Too much time had passed.
I’ve been busy with my job.
I travel too much.
I’m a single father. Every second I have is spent trying to make up for this divorce, and everything else, to that boy.
I can’t drag someone as amazing, as perfect, as special as you into the aftermath of my divorce.
Into the wreckage of my life.
You hate complications.
I’m a walking complication.
I wasn’t the same man, and I couldn’t expect that she was still the girl from that magical night.
Who knew if that connection, that visceral draw, would even still be there?
I needed time to get my head on straight.
Get very clear on what my future held.
But even more than that, that voice reminded me, that what I touch turns to shit.
I’d never, ever want to be that in Alexandra’s life.
Relationships always go bad.
I don’t want that kind of darkness between us.
I don’t want to bring more darkness into her life.
But even more than that, somewhere deep in the back of my mind is the voice of my drunk father, tiny yet loud. The one that tells me I’d never, ever be worth anything.
Didn’t deserve anything.
I’m like a fucking moon trapped in her orbit.
“You deserve better.”
Ringer: A New Year's Romance: The Doyles, a Boston Irish Mafia Romance Page 9