Next to Never

by Penelope Douglas

  “He won’t be back.”

  “I know.” I brushed a hand over Jared’s hair. “You were a hassle, and he doesn’t like hassles. He’s off to whatever’s next. I’m not worth it.”

  His hot breath fell against my ear, sounding desperate, as his arm slipped around my bare stomach. “Yes, you are.”

  I turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing myself into him as I kissed him hard. I held him so tightly and breathed him in, the sandalwood in his aftershave heating my blood and making my body tingle. So safe.

  His mouth moved over mine, the heat of his lips spreading down my neck and into my stomach. I flicked his tongue with mine, gripping his collar as he slipped a hand inside my baggy jeans, taking my ass in his hands. His tongue and lips left a heated trail across my cheek and down my neck, and I moaned.

  “Jase.”

  I’d only ever been with Thomas. I’d never been kissed like this. He tasted me and teased me, and if I closed my eyes, I could imagine that he was mine.

  This was our house, I’d wake up next to him in the morning, and all I had to worry about tomorrow was taking Jared to the park and what I’d make us for dinner.

  He kissed along my jaw, darting out with his teeth to bite every so often. I pressed my body into his, feeling how hard he was, and my clit began to throb. I groaned, feeling like if I grinded into him just a little I would come.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asked.

  I kept my eyes closed and my head tipped back, giving him full access. “You. I like the way you kiss.”

  He didn’t move for a moment, and then I felt a kiss below my ear. “Like that?”

  I smiled wider and tapped the corner of my mouth. “Do here.”

  He did, and I felt tingles spread down my legs.

  “And here.” I tapped the corner of my eye.

  He placed a small kiss there, and I shivered even more than when he used his tongue.

  He pinched my chin between his fingers, and I opened my eyes to see him gazing down at me.

  “You’re going to turn my world upside down, aren’t you, kid?”

  I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, hiding my smile.

  I hoped so. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I didn’t want him to hurt me. I didn’t want to hurt his family or mine.

  But I just didn’t want to stop feeling this.

  Nothing else existed. No one else was between us.

  This was our house and our bed. Ours.

  • • •

  Walking into Lockes-on-the-Bluff, a quaint pub-style restaurant up in the hills, I let the door fall closed behind me and immediately inhaled the aroma of steak, wood, and earth. The bar on the lower level was underground, and the scent of water—like in a cave—carried up to the restaurant, giving it a subterranean feel, enhanced by the dim candlelit setting. It was cleaner, closer, and probably better paying than the repair shop, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

  “Hi,” I said after I’d set down my purse on the bar stool. “I was wondering if you were hiring. I have experience serving and bartending.”

  Serving, yes. But I’d never actually bartended. It didn’t matter. These places never checked work history, anyway.

  The bartender capped the bottle he’d been pouring and walked over.

  “Well, you can fill out an application, and I’ll leave it for the day manager,” he suggested. “He usually handles the hiring.”

  “Thanks.”

  I sat down and took a pen out of my purse as he handed me an application. Glasses clinked to my left, and I heard laughter coming from the restaurant. Glancing around, I took in the setting, admiring the servers’ uniforms. Black slacks with white shirts and burgundy ties.

  One of the few places an undereducated nineteen-year-old could make good money off rich patrons and not have to take off her clothes.

  But then I turned away, rolling my eyes at myself in my head. Yeah, right. Jase didn’t pay me for sex, necessarily, but I was definitely a kept woman.

  And I needed to keep making my own money to make sure I didn’t accept anything more from him than I already had. I could make excuses for the house and car, justifying that I would do what was necessary for my son, but I couldn’t delude myself that it was okay to let Jase pay the bills and buy the food. That was on me and needed to stay that way.

  Turning my eyes back to the paper, I stopped, catching sight of a man and a woman at a table. I couldn’t help but stare.

  Jase was sitting next to a blonde in a white dress, with an older man at the table with them. She was young, a few years older than me maybe, and laughing. A weight hit my chest, making it harder to breathe as I watched Jase smile at her.

  Why was he smiling at her?

  It was her. His wife. I knew it was her.

  And she looked so different than me. Pristine, manicured, stylish . . . her hands and nails as she picked up her champagne glass looked as perfect as a marble statue, and her diamond studs gleamed bright enough that I could see them from here.

  Even the diamond on her finger appeared to wink at me as it caught the light.

  I looked back to Jase again and froze. He was staring right at me, and he was no longer smiling.

  Shit.

  I turned my head away and cleared my throat as I picked up the pen and tried to concentrate.

  I knew it. He wasn’t getting a divorce. He never said he was, and I wasn’t surprised.

  I wasn’t. I knew this would happen.

  I blinked, refocusing and bending my head to my task. Name, address, references, work history . . .

  I couldn’t work at a restaurant where he brought his wife, could I? It would make us both uncomfortable. It had only been a few weeks since I’d moved into the house, and while my divorce was well on its way, we hadn’t discussed his marriage at all.

  He was married. He wasn’t getting a divorce. Wise up, Kat.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice demanded at my side. His tone was quiet but with an edge as if I were a child who’d stayed up past my bedtime.

  I tensed and glanced up, seeing him stand at the empty bar, several feet away from me. Enough to appear as if he wasn’t speaking to me and we didn’t know each other.

  “I can’t be here?” I challenged, starting to print my information on the form.

  “Is that an application?”

  But before I could answer, the bartender approached. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “GlenDronach,” he ordered. “Neat.”

  The bartender walked away, and I continued my work, stealing a glance at the table and seeing his wife still talking to the older man.

  “A job?” Jase asked. “Kat, if you need more money—”

  “I don’t need more money,” I shot out under my breath. “Jesus.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  I calmed my temper and kept my voice low. “I wanted to take classes during the day, so I’m looking for an evening job.”

  He moved a few inches closer. “You shouldn’t get an evening job,” he told me. “If you go to school and work, Jared will never see you. And if you work nights, when am I supposed to spend time with you?”

  The bartender approached again, and Jase straightened as he accepted his drink.

  “I’ll have them add it to your dinner bill, Mr. Caruthers,” he said, glancing between us as I put my head back down.

  “Thank you.”

  When the bartender was gone, I peeled my tongue off the roof of my mouth, growing bolder.

  “Tell her you’re taking your son to the park and come over to my house,” I replied sarcastically. “Our boys can play while we screw upstairs.”

  He slammed his drink down, making my pulse quicken. “Knock it off.”

  “Just go back to your
dinner,” I bit out under my breath and then looked to the bartender. “Excuse me, may I have a rum and Coke, please?”

  “Coming up.”

  I didn’t like Jase making demands on how my life would go. He was getting what he wanted. What did he care?

  And for that matter, what did I care?

  “I don’t want you drinking alone. You’re upset.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  I was jealous.

  I pushed the paper and pen away and grabbed my purse. “I’ll be right back,” I told the bartender.

  I hurried to the other side of the restaurant and down the hallway, toward the restrooms. But before I could escape, Jase caught my arm and spun me around, backing me into a dark corner.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I snickered, stuffing the pen in my purse. “The first of many apologies, I’m sure.”

  So this was going to be my life. Would it be worth it? Up until a few weeks ago I hated my life, and I struggled, but I liked who I was. Now, everything was the complete opposite.

  How does one man make that happen?

  “Is this how it’s going to be?” he challenged. “We’re going to run into each other in public from time to time, Kat. You have to be able to handle this until I get everything sorted out. I will do right by you. I promise.”

  I tipped my chin up, steeling myself. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I should’ve known she’d be beautiful,” I went on, laughing at myself. “Your car, your suits . . . You like to put on a nice sheen for everyone, don’t you? So they don’t see how much you like to play in the dirt.” And then I cocked my head at him. “Do you have sex with her?”

  He stiffened, his eyes like blue fire.

  “Can I have sex with someone else then?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. “Someone to keep me entertained when you’re not around?”

  His jaw flexed as he regarded me. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  I stared into his eyes until my own burned, and I couldn’t look at him anymore. What was I doing? My life was about me and my son, and now, as the days went on, it was increasingly about him.

  Jared had to be in bed, because Jase was coming over. I couldn’t date men and bring them to the home another man paid for. Sometimes I waited for hours for him to show up, and sometimes he never did. I couldn’t call him at work, and I couldn’t call him at night. I couldn’t leave messages, and he couldn’t take me out in Shelburne Falls.

  How was I supposed to be important to him when we weren’t growing into anything more than what we were?

  “She wasn’t real to me before,” I said calmly. “She’s real now. You take her out, she has your name . . .” I raised my eyes, meeting his. “I didn’t want to be this woman. The stupid girl from the wrong side of the tracks, thinking her rich lover was going to save her from the trailer park. I didn’t want you, and then when I did, I didn’t want strings, and you’ve bent me every time I tried to resist. Guys like you never leave your wives, and I’m an asshole for wanting you to.” A thousand pinpricks hit my throat, and I had to pause so I wouldn’t cry.

  “No.” I nodded. “We fuck, you pay the bills. That’s really what our arrangement is, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not how it is,” he implored, taking my face in his hands. “I will leave her.”

  “If that were true, you would’ve done it already. And how fucking awful am I if I want you to do that to her?”

  “It was going to happen with or without you,” he said, holding my gaze. “The state of my marriage isn’t your fault.”

  I wanted to believe that. But this was a slippery slope.

  There was a thin line between an affair being easy or it being disastrous. If you had two people who wanted sex or companionship, a little variety, per se, and you both had a lot to lose, then you had a mutual understanding of what was expected. But . . . and here’s where shit often hit the fan . . . someone inevitably fell in love.

  The only man, other than my son, who my life revolved around was Jase. I, on the other hand, wasn’t the only woman in his life.

  “If I’d met you first, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Jase told me. “You’re the one I want. My father owns the law firm I work in, Kat. If I divorce Maddie, I lose the job and everything I’ve worked for. We just have bad timing. We’ll get through this.” He rubbed a circle on my cheek. “When I make partner, I can do whatever I want.”

  I turned my eyes away, knowing what I should do. Don’t they all say that? “Just wait. We’ll be together, I promise. Just a little more time.”

  If only I could just enjoy him and not be feeling what I’m starting to feel. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the tears back.

  “When it’s just us,” he whispered, his breath on my lips, “alone and warm, and I’m holding you, that’s who I am, Kat. That’s who I look forward to being when I’m leaving work and I can’t get to you quick enough.” He kissed me, soft and gentle. “Stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

  I shook my head, trying to not to let his words get to me, but I started crying anyway. I dipped my head into his chest, slipping my hands inside his jacket and hating the way I was starting to bend again.

  If I trusted him—just gave him a chance—what did I have to lose?

  Someone cleared their throat nearby, and I pulled away, taking in a quick breath. “Excuse me,” a male voice said.

  Jase stood up straight, breathing nervously and turned around. The man standing behind him was the one who had been seated at the table with Jase and his wife. He was older, and his blue eyes shifted casually between Jase and me.

  “Be discreet,” he told Jase and then looked at me, tipping his head. “Young lady.”

  And I caught the shadow of a smile as he disappeared into the men’s room.

  Jase’s body went stiff and he pulled away, adjusting his tie and jacket, not looking at me.

  Was that his father?

  “Go home, okay?” he asked, his tone curt. “I’ll give you what you need. You’re not working nights.”

  And then, without waiting for me to respond, he left me there, making his way back into the restaurant.

  Jesus. It was all about him.

  His demands, his life, his schedule, his pace . . . Was I happier than I was before?

  I brushed my hair away from my face and fixed my dress, knowing the answer without even thinking about it. Yeah, I was happy. When he was around.

  But when he wasn’t, the lows were lower than they were with Thomas, because of one simple fact . . . I never loved Thomas.

  I thought I had, but if what I was starting to feel for Jase was any indication, then he had the potential to hurt me a lot more than my ex.

  Walking back out, I stopped at the bar to pay for my drink and quickly downed it, closing my eyes as the warmth of the alcohol coursed through my veins and coated my stomach.

  Jase passed behind me, walking his wife out of the restaurant and helping her into her coat without sparing me a glance. But I caught her eye, a fraction of a moment longer than I should have. Had she seen Jase and me talking at the bar? Did she feel the tension on him I could?

  They left and I sat down, disobeying orders. How long would I wait for him? A year? Two? Forever?

  I wanted to be with him, but I was starting to fear that I was holding back for fear of missing out on his promise to me. What if he left her? I had to try, right?

  But there were no answers. Only silence. The alcohol smoothed out the edges, and the tightness in my muscles began to ease. The worrying ache in my head dissipated, and the storm of emotions and questions brewing in my mind started to look like the picture through a telescope. Far, far away.

  “Can I have another, please?” I asked the bartender.

  While I waited for Jase, I may as well enjoy myself. Hopeful
ly, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.

  • • •

  I close the book and let my head fall back against the headboard. I’m glad there wasn’t more sex, but I was too curious not to keep reading. So many things no one ever told me.

  My mom shouldn’t have waited for him. She should’ve left his ass until he got his shit together. She was right. If he wanted her, then he wouldn’t have been able to wait, right?

  But then I remember that this is just a book. They’re married now, happy, and I don’t know for sure that this is about them. Couldn’t it be a coincidence about the names, Fall Away Lane where Jared’s and Jax’s houses are located, Lockes-on-the-Bluff where Madoc takes his mom to dinner every time she’s in town . . . ?

  If it is real, who could’ve written it? Who would know all this stuff about my parents?

  And who sent it, believing I needed to have it?

  Hopefully, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.

  I can’t help but think that this is true for a lot of us.

  “Quinn!” I hear Dylan call from downstairs.

  Shit, she must be back already. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

  “Coming!” I shout.

  Stuffing the book in my satchel, I check my hair in the mirror and run out of my bedroom.

  Passing my parents’ room, I stop and think, remembering my mom’s box of keepsakes in her closet. I remember being enamored of her journal when I was a kid, but she wouldn’t let me read it.

  If this book is true, the person who wrote it has to be close to at least one of my parents. They had to get the story somewhere.

  Cracking open the door, I creep inside, knowing they’re not home yet, but Addie could be lurking around somewhere, too.

  I close the door and dash into my mom’s closet, walking past the clothes and shoe racks, the handbags and jewelry. I loved playing in here as a kid. Trying on her things and pretending I was as sophisticated and beautiful. I kind of like finding out she didn’t always have it together. That she was far from perfect.

  Taking down the white box on the shelf, I dig through it until I find her black journal underneath her old yearbook.