“That’s too funny. So what happened after Jasmine left?”
“I wanted to enroll in Columbia’s School of Nursing, so I signed another modeling contract and advertised a room for rent. Five days later, I had a new roommate. Anna was a nursing student from Mississippi and one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met. We studied together, finished the nursing program together, and then applied for jobs together. She was hired at Presbyterian, and I went to CHONY.”
“Children’s Hospital of New York?”
“Uh-huh.” She eyeballed me, surprised I was familiar with the hospital.
“I’ve researched some doctors there. For Savannah,” I explained. “So, that was it for modeling?”
She shrugged and smiled. “It was just an opportunity to get a fresh start.”
“And what about Jasmine and Anna? What’s going on with them now?”
“Jasmine finished college and ended up marrying Jeffrey, her boyfriend, and now she’s a stay-at-home mommy to their two little girls, Jenny and Julie.”
“Which makes Mrs. Darlene a great-grandmother.”
“Yes. And you can bet she spoils those girls to death. All three of them.” She grinned. “Anna’s story is similar. After she took her job at Presbyterian, she fell in love with Seth, and they moved in together. A few months later, they got married.”
“And now you live alone?”
Rebecca nodded. “Same two-bedroom apartment in Hudson Heights.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“I’d love to show it to you.” She smiled.
“Just say when.” I smiled back and drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly as I looked into her eyes. I’d love to see where she lived. But I didn’t want to think of her going back to New York. The thought of her leaving again made me sick to my stomach, so I refused to think about it and tried to focus on making the most of our time together.
“What kept you from getting married like your two friends?” I asked out of curiosity, but also to keep the conversation going. Because the longer I stared into those emerald-green eyes, the more I wanted to carry her to the bedroom and kiss every inch of her body.
She looked down at our hands. “I didn’t have time to date during school.”
“Didn’t have time?” I gave her a little smirk.
“When I wasn’t in class, I was either studying or doing research or modeling.”
“No time for even a casual relationship?”
She shook her head. “To me, relationships just meant extra drama and needless distractions, and I had no time for either.”
“What about after you were done with school?”
“When I started working, I went out a few times. But that was it. It didn’t amount to anything.” She sighed. “And then I watched Katie go through that terrible divorce…”
My eyes widened. “I didn’t know she’d gotten married.”
Rebecca nodded. “To a worthless politician who broke her heart.”
“That’s too bad.” I pulled my mouth into a frown. “What happened?”
“The entire thing was a disaster from the start. But then she caught him in bed with another woman. That almost killed her, and I think it completely ruined her outlook on marriage.”
She was quiet. Thinking, I suppose. So, I stayed quiet too and stroked the back of her hand with my thumb. It was a peaceful night. The crickets and frogs seemed to harmonize with each other, and the moonlight slow danced with the breeze across the surface of the pond. A perfect night for sharing stories, telling secrets, and having a heart-to-heart talk. A perfect night because Rebecca was with me.
Finally, she looked up and slowly shook her head. “That’s not completely true, Jackson.”
“What’s not true?” I didn’t know if we were still talking about Katie, or if she had jumped back to something else.
“The reason I never got serious with anyone...” She paused, and I noticed her eyes were glassy again. A moment later, a tear rolled down her cheek.
I leaned across the arm of my rocker toward her and brushed the tear away. “You wanna tell me about it?”
She sniffed. “I’m too ashamed.”
“What for?” I gave her shoulder a soft rub.
“Deep down,” she paused as her lip began to quiver, “I felt… like I deserved it.” She covered her face with her dainty hands and began to weep.
Her visible suffering triggered something inside me. She looked so small, so fragile. I ached to comfort her. But what could I do? Swoop her up and carry her to bed? Cover her incredible body with comforting kisses? That’s what I wanted to do. But that was out of the question. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop with light, consoling kisses. And with Rebecca, things had to be perfect. I didn’t want to make a mistake, so I wrapped her in my arms. She immediately threw her hands around my neck and sobbed on my shoulder. Hard, shuddering sobs. It didn’t make sense to me, but it was clear she was torn apart inside. I brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her on the forehead.
“Rebecca?” I asked softly. “What did you deserve? What were you ashamed of?”
She squeezed me tighter and continued to cry. I held her close and brushed my hand down the back of her head, trying to comfort her. Moments passed, and finally, she lifted her chin and spoke.
“Thinking of you and how I left while you were still in the hospital. I’m sorry, Jackson.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her in closer, resting my cheek against her temple. “It’s all right.”
“No! It’s not all right. I shouldn’t have left you like that. It was selfish of me. It never would’ve happened if I hadn’t left you. But I was so mixed up in my head. I didn’t know what to do. And your mom wouldn’t let me see you.” She sniffed and clenched my sleeve. “If only I could’ve seen you, things might’ve been different,” she cried.
“Rebecca, tell me what happened. Are you ashamed of leaving? Is that it? Because if you are, don’t be.”
She looked at me with red, tear-soaked eyes and sniffed as she shook her head.
“Then what is it? Why are you ashamed?”
She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Because, Jackson…” Her tears fell harder, streaming down her cheeks. “I was raped.”
An enormous rock hit the bottom of my stomach. I clenched my teeth as I held her tight. Nothing could’ve prepared me for such news. My mind was racing. How? When? Who? I wanted to take away her pain, but worse, I wanted to punch a hole in someone’s face. I wanted to make him bleed, watch him die in my hands.
Over the past few years, I’d calmed my rage, shut down my violent tendencies. Most of them, at least. As of late, I even considered myself a mild-tempered guy. But at that moment, all I wanted to do was find the monster who committed this horrendous act and break every damn bone in his body. My anger was about to explode, but somehow I managed to control it for her sake. She’d been through enough. She didn’t need to deal with some kind of wild reaction from me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Dear God. I’m so very sorry.”
She squeezed me around the neck and nuzzled her face in my shoulder while I held her. Thoughts continued to run through my mind. Terrible thoughts of what I’d like to do to the sonofabitch. She finally let out a long sigh and lifted her head. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were red and swollen. I wanted to erase all the hurt, all the memories of that horrible event, and tell her everything would be all right, but I knew that would only sound stupid. Nothing I could say would make things better. I stroked her hair and kissed her on top of the head, trying to be as gentle and understanding as I could.
“Rebecca,” I spoke just above a whisper, “please don’t be ashamed.”
She took a deep, shaky breath and then raised up to look at me. “I feel…” She licked her lips and swallowed. “I feel so dirty,” she whimpered, “and exposed.”
“It’s a horrible thing that happened, but it doesn’t make you dirty.” I wiped the back of my fingers down her
cheek and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Why would you say you deserved it?”
“Because.” She took another deep breath. “I was living my life while you were struggling to survive.”
I stared at her and shook my head. Her words, twisting in my stomach. “Sweetheart, no. You can’t think like that. Do you hear me? You were supposed to be carrying on with your life. No one expected you to stay at home and wait for me to get better.” Thoughts of my conversation with Andrew came to mind and slapped me right in my face. What a complete asshole I was. Talk about selfish.
“You didn’t deserve to be raped.” I cupped her cheeks in my hands and stared into her eyes. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again, okay? No one deserves to be raped. No one.” I kissed the tip of her nose and then leaned my forehead against hers. “I can’t make this go away, but if you’ll let me, I’ll do everything in my power to try and make it better.”
She pressed her lips together and gave me a slight nod as more tears spilled from her eyes.
I wanted to know the details but hated to ask. I wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable enough to tell me the whole story, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the truth if she did. Did she know her attacker? Did she know his name? God knows if I ever found out, he’d be as good as dead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rebecca
Saturday, June 3, 2000 ~ Live, Love, Laugh
As soon as I felt it was a decent hour, I called Aunt Sharon. After a lengthy conversation and a whole lot of squealing, we finally made a coffee date at Steaming Hotties. The plan was to meet there at nine o’clock-ish. Heavy on the ish. That gave me just enough time to take a quick shower and get ready. I put on my new white linen sundress and slipped into my favorite leather sandals. I wanted to look fresh and fabulous for my favorite aunt, simply because she, herself, was the queen of fresh and fabulous. I put my hair in a French twist, wrestled with some bobby pins to secure it in place, and pulled some ringlets down over my ears to frame my face. Then I applied a good amount of concealer and powder, a touch of blush, some mascara, and cherry lip gloss. I was in business.
No one would ever guess I hadn’t gotten in the bed until half-past four in the morning. Or that I had cried my eyes out in Jackson’s arms. Or that all his affectionate consoling had ended up turning me on like a neon light. Or that we’d made out for hours in the hot tub afterward, and I had nearly kissed his lips off. Oh! Just thinking about it got my heart pumping.
I don’t know how he pulled it off (pardon the pun), but somehow Jackson had talked me right outta my clothes, all the way down to my bra and panties, and right into that forbidden hot tub. I admit, there wasn’t a whole lotta talking going on at the time. He had me hotter than a Carolina Reaper, which is just the hottest pepper in the world, so I don’t recommend anyone go popping one in their mouth all willy-nilly. Seriously, I was that hot! And it didn’t have a thing to do with the temperature of the water, either. It was all Jackson.
There was a whole lotta Jackson too, frankly. We were kissing, straight up making out, and when he pulled me over in his lap, oh, my Lord! I swear it felt like I was sitting on a cucumber. I won’t lie, it made me nervous. But Jackson was sweet about it. He assured me we wouldn’t do anything I wasn’t ready to do. Well, I was ready. More than ready. But my crazy, mixed-up mind was causing me problems, once again. All I could think about was whether or not it would work out for us. Did Jackson really love me, was it true love, was it going to last? All these thoughts kept me from letting go. They kept me from giving myself to Jackson and allowing him to love me completely. It was so difficult because he was making me want him so badly. His velvet hands, touching, caressing, stroking. His steamy mouth, kissing, licking, sucking. Great God in heaven! No doubt, if we ever did make love, it would be incredible. I just knew it. I totally understood why they call it a hot tub.
The morning was cool and crisp, but it was quickly warming up. The temperature would climb steadily from the low seventies until a little after one or two o’clock when it usually capped for the day. It promised to be another scorcher, with highs reaching the upper nineties. Triple digits were common, but thank God we weren’t expecting that kind of heat for another week, according to the weatherman. Afternoon showers were likely, but what’s new? It’s Florida. When does it not rain in the afternoon in the summertime? It’s been like this every blistering summer since I can remember. Then the hurricanes follow. And we’ve had some doozies. But none of that ever seemed to deter folks. The Sunshine State would always be a tourist attraction, Destin would always be one of the most popular beaches in the panhandle, and because of the Mid-Bay Bridge, Niceville would always be the go-to place for vacationers seeking a haven from all the hustle and bustle of everything touristy.
The small town had grown in the last decade, but it was still well maintained and very family friendly. The community was filled with good people, and there was always something to do. From festivals to football games, water parks to dog parks, museums to nature trails, fishing tournaments to golf tournaments, air shows to art shows, and all the shopping and fresh gulf seafood you could stand, there was something for everyone. And if you couldn’t find what you wanted in Niceville, you only had to travel about ten minutes to be in Destin.
My little hometown was already booming with people—tourists on their way to the beach, locals running errands before it got hot as hell’s front door. I arrived at Steaming Hotties about ten minutes before nine and decided to wait for Aunt Sharon inside. With my purse on my shoulder and my book in my hand, I strolled into the coffee shop. It was refreshingly cool, surprisingly empty, and smelled like heaven. Wonderful scents of vanilla, hazelnut, roasted pecans, and freshly brewed coffee swirling throughout the shop made my mouth water.
The first thing that caught my eye was the colossal floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that dominated the entire left wall. It was lit up like Christmas. My fondness for the coffee shop grew exponentially as my eyes darted across each glowing shelf. Old books, new books, hard covers and paperbacks occupied most of the shelves. And scattered in every nook and cranny were knick-knacks, old fashioned jars filled with candy, and pictures of various people that looked like family, customers, and possibly even a couple of celebrities. A dozen or so tables were spread around the coffee shop. Some small, some large. Some round, some square. Each with different styles of chairs, but all covered with brightly colored linen tablecloths and decorated with small bouquets of fresh daisies. Above, at least twenty whimsical chandeliers hung at different levels from the ceiling, harmonizing with the quirky decorations scattered throughout the vibrant cafe. I felt like a child who had just stepped into Wonderland.
After my initial reaction of amazement and appreciation for the shop, my eyes wandered around, looking for the owners. With a name like Steaming Hotties, I was expecting Dolly and Daisy to be a couple of gorgeous runway models, or at least some stunning trophy wives all decked out in chic clothes, big hair, and drag-queen makeup. If they were Aunt Sharon’s friends, no doubt they’d be equally as fabulous.
Then I looked toward the back of the coffee shop, and our eyes connected. In the right corner, behind the counter, not even as tall as the cash register, stood a little old lady with curly, gray hair, wearing cat-eye glasses, red lipstick, and a hot-pink frilly apron with The Queen of Everything embroidered across the bib in fancy gold lettering. I suppressed major grinning by chewing my bottom lip. This is not what I expected, I thought, but she’s stunning, all right. She greeted me with a shrill cackle. I smiled and said, “Good morning,” in return, then went to get a closer look at all the books.
Except for an older gray-haired man in a three-piece suit who was reading a newspaper in the back, I had the place to myself. As I walked along the bookshelf scanning the titles, he fanned out the paper, folded it, and placed it on the table by his black coffee and ginormous cinnamon roll. I walked back toward the front of the coffee shop where I picked out the perfect table near the shop’s window and
sat down. Aunt Sharon would be able to spot me from outside, and I could enjoy the natural light while I read my book and waited for her.
I put my book on the table and hung my purse on the back of the chair. Not a minute after I’d gotten settled, I noticed the queen herself was tenaciously approaching my table. Perhaps I wouldn’t have a chance to read after all. The closer she got, the more determined she appeared and the more familiar she looked. I felt I’d seen her somewhere before, but I just couldn’t place her, and before I could align my thoughts, I was bombarded with questions.
“So, what’ll ya have this morning, dear? This your first time here? You’re new in town, huh?” The feisty little woman smiled pleasantly and placed both hands on her hips. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled, and she exuded enthusiasm and energy from every pore in her wrinkled skin.
“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled back. “This is my first time in your shop, but I’m not new. I actually grew up here.”
She had a pinched expression on her face as her eyes narrowed on me. “That so?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a bit intimidated.
“Well, I’ve lived here my whole life and can’t say I recognize you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin, looking down the bridge of her nose at me. “Who’s your people?”
Wow, I thought. Aren’t you a funky little nightmare. I cleared my throat and said, “Sharon Russo is my aunt.”
“Hush your mouth, child!” She brought a hand up to her glasses and leaned in closer, squinting her eyes to get a good look at my face. “Well, I’ll be.” Then she yelled over her shoulder, “Dolly! Get out here! They’s somebody you gotta meet!”
Dolly? Oh, boy. So this nosey-Rosie must be Daisy? I wasn’t sure what to say, so I smiled and sat quietly, waiting to see what would happen next, and expecting Steaming Hottie number two to be a demon from hell.
I heard her before I saw her. Shuffle, jingle. Shuffle, jingle. The sound grew louder as she neared us. Then, from behind Steaming Hottie number one, another little old lady appeared. I quickly assessed the two had to be sisters, as they were almost identical. They were the same size, looked to be about the same age, had matching curly, gray hair, and wore the same hot-pink apron and red lipstick. Only one difference. Well, two. Dolly didn’t wear glasses, and her skin wasn’t quite as wrinkled. But she also looked familiar.
Worth the Risk Page 20