Текст книги "Middle of Knight"

Автор книги: Jewel E. Ann

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Ten

The almost forty-year-old who had to pinch herself at least a dozen times in the car, received the ten minute summary of the sexiest and quirkiest guy alive. New York, parents died, and a string of temporary jobs was not what she imagined, but her history didn’t fit her either. At least she hoped it didn’t.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Jackson asked as she slid into a small dimly lit booth in the corner.

“Bloody Mary. That’s why I come here.” She pulled out her wallet.

“Don’t even.” He shook his head, walking to the bar.

After a few minutes of staring at his backside, she smiled to herself. He was right, her eyes were greedy. They wanted to be on him all the time. She looked away from him long enough to notice how many other sets of greedy eyes clung to his body. Then, as if her observation brought it on, several younger women moved in as though they were trapping him in their circle. One of them teased her finger over the cross tattooed on his arm. The twenty-something looked about Maddie’s age.

After breaking from the pack, the most sought after man in the bar found his way back to the booth.

“How great is it being you?”

He set her Bloody Mary down next to his beer then looked behind him at the predatory eyes still glued to him.

“Apparently not as great as being you.”

Ryn scooted over as he slid in next to her. Never before had a guy sat next to her in a booth when it was just the two of them. She glanced over at his growing fan club. They were all young, thin, and scantily dressed, which made Ryn feel every inch of her long, conservative skirt.

“I don’t think they’re jealous … I think they want to claw my eyes out, or maybe yours for being so blind.”

“Does my future wife need reminding that she’s the sexiest person in this place?”

An unavoidable laugh escaped. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. I’m not a self-professed wallflower, but come on … I’m not them.”

“Thank God for that.” He slid his hand through her hair and brought her mouth to his.

Another all-in kiss. The demanding stroke of his warm tongue temporarily dissolved all thoughts of the women watching them. The way he held her mouth to his, not giving a damn what anyone else thought, told all those wanton eyes that he was not available … at least not that night.

The hand that wasn’t holding her head rested high on her leg then eased up until just his thumb brushed her bare skin where her skirt met her shirt. Ryn’s hands stayed clenched at her sides. They yearned to touch him, grab him, possibly attack him. Therefore, she deduced it best to hold still and let him lead the way.

Jackson released her lips, leaving her waiting for the next breath. An eternity later it reappeared, and she went straight for her drink, guzzling it down to the very last drop. A stalk of celery, a straw, and a spear through an olive and baby pickle mingled with the ice in the bottom.

He stared at her with a shit-eating grin. “So you like the Bloody Mary here, huh?”

Taking a bite of the celery, she nodded. “Uh huh, it’s an in-house mix, the best tomato juice, fresh lemon, and a dash of bitters. And I’m going to need another pretty quick before we can talk about that kiss.”

He nodded to the waitress a few tables down. Her unapologetic gawking made it easy to get her attention. Miss Flirty Smile winked as he pointed to Ryn’s empty glass.

“I like kissing you. I think it’s fair to say it’s the highlight of my day.”

The pinch-me moments crashed into the shore again and again. Ryn could see them coming, but each time they knocked her down, pulling her under. “I’m not sure what that says about either one of us.” She took another bite of celery, wishing the bartender would hurry up with her drink. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

He angled his body toward hers, resting his arm behind her while taking a long pull of his beer. “Okay then … tell me about your daughter.”

Maddie was a tricky subject, however, unavoidable.

“She’s studying law at Creighton. I can’t even begin to tell you how smart she is, too smart really, but our relationship has been strained over the past few years.”

“How so?”

The waitress brought Ryn’s Bloody Mary. It was a miracle that she didn’t spill it, with her eyes on Jackson and his tatted arms. “Anything else I can get you?”

He kept his gaze on Ryn. “No, thank you.”

Shaking her head she chuckled. “Our waitress is quite attractive.”

“Is she?” He still didn’t turn.

“I’ve never been with a guy that wouldn’t have checked out that waitress at least once. I don’t mind, you’re—”

“Well you should. Any guy that takes his eyes off you is a fucking idiot. Excuse my language.”

Her drink called to her again. This time she stopped gulping at half the glass. It was progress.

“Okay, I’m ready to talk,” her buzz declared as she licked her lips. “Let’s start with your vow of celibacy. If not a priest then why? And if it’s because some love of your life died, then just nod once and don’t say anything. I’m not in my right mind and even then I’m not sure what I would say back to you.”

Jackson studied her through slightly squinted eyes. “First, it really wasn’t a ‘vow of celibacy.’ Jillian takes too many liberties with things I say. Moving felt like a fresh start, a chance to be someone different. So I decided to seize the opportunity.”

“So if being celibate is different, then …” Even with that warm buzz, Ryn managed to add everything together. “You must not have been celibate in New York.”

Jackson frowned. “I was the opposite of celibate, as in very much not celibate. Like every day I practiced not being celibate.”

“So you had a girlfriend.”

“No … no girlfriends.”

“Oh …” Yes, two plus two equaled four. No girlfriends and not being celibate every day equaled a really bad answer. “You’re a playboy.”

“Was and I didn’t actually call myself that.”

Six gulps later the second Bloody Mary vanished. This time Ryn signaled the waitress for another, although it took a little more waving to get her eyes drawn away from Jackson. Ryn stopped shy of jumping up and down on the table.

“I take it something happened. Did you get someone pregnant?” That Ryn could relate to. “Or did you catch some nasty STD?” Bloody Mary asked that question. There wasn’t even a flinch like she shouldn’t have asked it or that she needed to take it back. Maybe she didn’t need another drink after all.

His brows drew tight. “No kids or STDs. I just liked sex but not relationships. My uncomplicated lifestyle suited me at the time.”

“But now?”

“Now I’m different.”

“Why?”

“Because I choose to be.”

The vodka seeped into her brain. They were the best Bloody Marys and never stingy on the alcohol. “You should choose to show me all your tattoos.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I just said that out loud.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and it’s possible his ears perked up a bit too. “You did. Keep going. I think I like you uncensored.”

The impish twist of his lips had her grabbing for more of her drink, but her hands were greeted by an empty glass. That made his eyes glimmer with even more delight. “I’d love to show you my tattoos, but not here.” He ducked his head to her ear. “I’d have to remove all my clothes for you to see all my tattoos.”

“We can’t have sex!” she blurted so fast it sounded like one long—loud—word.

Jackson looked around at a few of his adoring fans while wiping his hand over his mouth as if he could hide or remove the smirk on his face.

“Oh bloody, Bloody Mary … cut me off right now. What I mean—”

Her most wildly entertained date held his index finger to his lips over his permanent smile.

Taking the hint, she lowered her voice, not realizing how loud she had been. “What I mean is I have some things to attend to in the sex department.”

Biting his lips together, he nodded. “More preparation?”

With inebriated confidence she sat up ramrod straight and nodded. “Exactly.”

“Mmm … I see, well you didn’t finish telling me about Maddie.”

Her posture sank again. “Oh Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. She’s so aanng-ger-ee with me all the time. I’m trying to protect her from him, but she just doesn’t see the whole picture.”

“Him?”

“The ex. He’s not a nice man.” She slid her celery in and out of her mouth, running her tongue down the center groove.

Jackson cleared his throat. “You’re not eating that celery like we can’t have sex. You need to take a bite or put it back in your glass … now.”

Ryn bit into it, eyes wide, then she chewed it slowly, keeping her gaze locked to his.

“That’s better. Now … the ex, why is he not a nice man?”

“He has too much money and anger management issues.”

“Anger management issues?”

Ryn tapped her fingernail against the side of her glass, exhaling a breathy laugh. “I’m a little inebriated. A couple swigs past tipsy, but not officially drunk. Talking about the ex is not a good idea right now. He probably has someone following me and listening in on our conversation.”

Jackson took a slow glance over his shoulder. “Why would he have someone follow you?”

“Because he’s a psycho,” she whispered in his ear then chuckled. “If he gets within a football field of me, he’ll be arrested. Sometimes I feel like someone is following me, but I can never detect who. It’s just an unsettling feeling.”

“So it was physical abuse?”

Ryn twisted her lips. “Hmm … yeah, I’d say seven trips to various hospitals in less than a year would qualify as physical abuse.”

Jackson didn’t flinch or even blink. Most people had some sort of involuntary reaction if she confessed her past.

“It started years ago when Maddie was a baby.” Ryn rested her elbow on the table then her chin on her hand. “I think you should take me home.” She yawned. “We’ve been here less than an hour, and I’ve consumed way too much alcohol in that short amount of time. I’m off kilter around you.”

He grinned behind the mouth of his beer bottle as he took the last swig. “Why is that?”

There was the lack of sex with something or someone other than an inanimate vibrating object, the age difference flashing in neon, and the nervous vibe that someone set everything up as a joke. At any given moment it seemed possible that her friends and family could jump out and yell surprise or gotcha—a fortieth birthday prank of sorts. Ha ha. Ryn actually thought this guy was interested in her.

“Why is that … good question. Let me see, you kinda came out of nowhere. You have this Magic Mike stripper’s body—”

“Who’s Magic Mike?”

Her laugh came out as a cough. “It doesn’t matter. My point is you’re unexpected … too unexpected. I’m trying to make sense of this little game we’re playing. I’m on the cusp of losing my youth, truthfully I’ve already lost it, but I enjoy the warm comfort of denial. Then you swoop in just before I turn forty and kiss me like we’re teenagers, joke about marrying me, and the way you look at me … well, there are no words.” Closing her eyes she shook her head. The alcohol was no match for how dizzy she felt under the intensity of his gaze.

“These little muscles in your jaw twitch when I look at you. I like to imagine they’re the gatekeepers to the words you’re dying to say … the ones that I’m certain will land you naked in my bed.” Jackson rolled his lips between his teeth and studied her, always with a look of intrigue. “Then you swallow hard about every ten seconds. Need I tell you what image that conjures in my head? But then I feel your heavy breaths, even though I know you’re trying to control them, and swear I can actually hear your heart beating in your chest. I know you say we can’t have sex, but I say it’s too late. These little things you do fuck me in ways I never imagined possible. No matter what I say, you never look away. Your eyes can’t hide what your body tries to deny.”

Pantyliner. Ryn needed a pantyliner to absorb whatever trickled down her sex. In a desperate prayer she hoped it was her melting libido and not the untimely arrival of her unpredictable “friend.” Did he see that in her eyes? Fear. Embarrassment. Anguish.

“You should go pull the car up front.”

He narrowed his eyes, but only for a second. “Okay.”

Her living dream disappeared out the door. His car was twenty yards from the entrance to the bar. It wasn’t raining, and she gave no explanation for her odd request. Yet, he did it—no questions asked. The undefinable connection between them began taking on a life of its own. It was a lucid dream, and anyone who tried to wake her would be murdered—unless she herself died of embarrassment first.

“Please don’t let Bloody Mary be the theme for the night,” she whispered to herself, making a quick dash to the restroom.

No blood.

Ryn sighed as she dealt with the juice fest in her nether region with the most unpredictable terrain. One day sex felt like trying to start a fire with flint and metal, the next day just the thought of sex brought on a tsunami of secretions. Jackson was the earthquake that triggered that tsunami. Her cotton panties were drenched and sadly, she had a wet spot on the backside of her skirt to prove it.

“Lovely,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder with her back to the mirror.

A quick air-dry later, she wormed her way through the growing bar crowd to the wood-paneled chariot.

“Ryn?”

She turned before opening the car door.

“I thought that was you.”

Eyes wide like the dots to two big question marks, she smiled. “Hi … uh…”

“Brad. We had coffee about a year ago.”

Ryn nodded but her brain shook its head at the complete lack of recognition.

“My daughter, Nora, went on a spring break trip with Maddie. We had coffee at the airport waiting for their flight to arrive.”

“Yes, I remember.” She finally did. Brad was in his fifties, but his loss of hair since she last saw him added another decade to his physical appearance, especially since he refused to just shave it all. The wispy combed-over strands were not attractive.

“You look amazing.”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

His inspection of her amazingness gave her a bad case of the creeps. “My divorce is final now. We should go out sometime for more than just coffee.”

“That’s a nice offer, but I …”

“You?” He inched closer.

“She’s taken.”

Ryn jumped.

Jackson stepped out of the vehicle, resting his arms on the roof.

“Oh, hi.” Brad smiled. “I didn’t realize Maddie had a brother.”

Ryn closed her eyes. There wasn’t a depth of hell deep enough to escape the humiliation.

“Funny guy. If you’re lucky, Ryn will get in the car before I have a chance to teach you a little lesson in manners.”

Brad held up his hands. “Sorry, man. Honest mistake.” He tipped up his chin. “See you around, Ryn.”

“Oh my God.” She sank into the seat and yanked at the seat belt, fumbling to fasten it. “That was the worst reality check ever.”

Jackson pulled away from the curb. “That you’re taken?”

“What? Taken? Are you serious? I’m taken alright. Taken for a fool. Who am I kidding? I’m not old enough to be your mother, but he thought so. What does that say about me?”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He wasn’t trying to be mean. It was an observation.”

Jackson shrugged. “You don’t look old. I look young. It’s this new moisturizer I’ve been using. I think it’s cut my wrinkles in half.”

The tight purse of her lips could not deter her smile. “Shut up. You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m not. It has this coconut oil base, and I dab just a little around my eyes at night before bed.”

“Enough. Just … don’t speak.” She laughed. “My ego needs a few moments of silence to grieve.”

All talk ceased as his hand took hers. She looked at their interlaced fingers and then at him. He could take her absolutely anywhere.

Chapter Eleven

A crisp, cool morning breeze crept though the western-facing window. The bed creaked with distress as Jillian flailed, tangling the sheet around her body and burying her head under the pillows.

“Jesus! What’s that sound?” Tearing the pillow from her face and flinging it across the room, she opened her eyes.

“Morning.” Jackson smiled around the tiny straw in his mouth and continued slurping the nearly empty contents of a juice box. “These are good. You should get them more often.”

Stretching on a big yawn, she rolled her head side to side. “Those are for the five-year-old twins staying with us. But I guess you’re not too far off, so …”

“You look like crap.” He shot the empty juice box across her room to the trash and of course he made it.

“Thank you. I love you too.”

“I told you inviting the ex-wife and her family to stay with us was monumentally stupid.”

Sitting up, she crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees. “Nice try, but that’s not it. AJ’s parents want him to move back to Portland for his treatment.”

“But he said no?”

“He hasn’t decided.”

“I’ll be back.” Jackson turned and Jillian leaped out of bed to chase after him, stopping him at the front door.

“Don’t you dare. You’ll have to go through me to get to him.” She stood tall, which was still short, and fisted her hands on her hips.

Jackson raised a single brow. “You do realize our sparring is for practice and exercise, but in a no-holds-barred situation I would take you down because I’m just physically that much stronger than you, right?”

“Maybe, but if I have to defend AJ from you, I won’t fight fair.”

“Which brings me to my next point.” With a wide stance, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m doing this for you.”

“On our way back from Portland AJ hit me so you hit him back. I get it, even if I let him do it. But this isn’t about me and that’s what hurts the most. I have to let him make his own decisions and in the end he might not choose me. Hell … he might not even choose himself. The love he has for his family is admirable, it’s us, Jackson.”

The growing lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. “If I were dying would you let me go … would you let me die in the arms of anyone else?”

Jackson flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Agreed. Life is not fair, but it’s all we have. I’ll let him go and so will you.” She pushed his arms away from his chest and hugged him.

“You want to go with him.”

She nodded. “But I’m not.” A painful laugh broke from her chest. “He didn’t ask me … and I don’t think he will.”

Jackson kissed the top of her head. “He’s a fool.”

Resting her forehead on his sternum, she nodded. “Tell me a story, like a Sesame Street story.”

“Pfft … none of that.” He retreated to the kitchen, stealing another juice box from the refrigerator. “Ryn agreed to marry me.”

“Peachy.” Jillian hopped up on the counter and took the juice box Jackson offered. “When’s the big day?”

“We haven’t set a date yet. I think I should ask her father first.”

“Good call. She give you her virginity yet?”

A small smirk grew around his straw. “She has a daughter—twenty-one.”

“You should ask for her permission as well. I’m guessing it’s proper etiquette. Though she won’t give it to you.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s going to be pissed that her ‘old’ mom is marrying a guy that she wants to nail.”

Jackson tossed the box in the trash and grabbed a Red Bull to wash down the juice. “I’m pretty sure a woman can’t actually ‘nail’ a guy—not the right equipment. I can’t believe you sold enough Lascivio crap to win a car. You’re clearly not the sexpert everyone thinks you are.”

“Whatever. So how did it happen?”

“The proposal?”

“Yes. Did you get down on one knee and all that jazz?”

“Nope. I gave her the option of marriage or meaningless sex. She thought about it for a while and chose marriage. I think it was a good choice. But I also think it’s going to be a while before we have sex. For some reason she feels the need to ‘prepare’ herself. What do you think that means?”

Jillian giggled. “I’m not sure. She’s pushed a baby out of her vagina so accommodating your wee little penis shouldn’t be the issue.”

That earned her an exaggerated eye roll.

“Maybe…” she held up her index finger “…she doesn’t think that’s the hole you’re going to use.”

“Really? You think she’s preparing herself for anal sex with me?”

“No, not really.” She returned the same eye roll. “I think you make her completely self-conscious. She probably has a bit of overgrowth.”

“Pubic hair?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh … maybe I should tell her I’ve had sex with women who have pubic hair and it’s no big deal.”

They both laughed.

“Yes, there might even be an e-card that says that. No sense in beating around the bush.”

“Good morning.”

Jillian hopped off the counter.

“Hey, Brooke.”

Jackson gave her a half-smile and went to his room.

“He didn’t have to leave … unless you two were talking about me?”

“No.” Jillian laughed. “Unless you have pubic hair.”

An uneasy smile tugged at Brooke’s mouth. “I … I have some.”

Jillian’s smile doubled. It wasn’t a question and the fact that Brooke shared that personal bit of information with her was too hard to take seriously. “A landing patch?”

“Huh?”

Jillian shook her head. “Never mind. So how’d you sleep?”

Brooke shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Honestly, not so good. I can’t stop thinking about Cage. He’s not going to take the news about AJ very well. He idolizes his dad. That’s why he’s here. Cage couldn’t wait to graduate high school so he could move closer to AJ.”

“Then I’m even more surprised AJ’s parents want him to move to Portland and leave Cage behind.”

Brooke gave Jillian an uneasy look. “Cage is one of the reasons they want him to come to Portland. They don’t want him feeling the burden of being pulled between football, school, and AJ’s treatment. And …”

“And?”

Brooke released a heavy breath. “Jim’s worried that AJ could do something.”

“Something?”

A single nod. “He thinks AJ could become suicidal if or when things get bad.”

Every ounce of her wanted to refute what Brooke said, but she couldn’t. Of course AJ would rather die than live in misery or be a burden to anyone around him. Jillian would have been the same way.

The dense silence weighed heavily in the room.

“So, anyway, are you joining us at Lilith’s for tea and coffee in a little bit?”

“I have something I need to do before we leave for the game later.”

Brooke nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you a little later then.”

Jillian’s mouth pulled into a tight smile.

*

Dark, full clouds stretched for miles. Mother Nature painted the sky to match the mood. Perhaps it was to give the Monaghan family permission to feel sad. So much sadness.

“Jillian.” Jim answered the door. “I assumed you’d be having coffee with the ladies.”

“Not this morning. Is AJ here?”

“He’s still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Char said he was awake most of the night. Migraine.”

She frowned. Guilt for not being there seeped into her conscience.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by when he wakes.”

There was no need. Jim didn’t know Jillian and since he said she should leave, then he most certainly didn’t understand her relationship with his son.

“Actually, I’m going to peek in on him.” She stepped past him, not waiting for his approval.

“I’m not sure that’s the best id—”

“It’s fine. You should go see if Dodge needs an excuse to leave the hen house.”

“Well, okay … I guess.”

“Bye, Jim.” She waved without another look back.

The room was black, trapped in silence until Jillian gently shut the bedroom door behind her. Breathing in a shaky breath, she slipped off her boots and clothes, then slid under the sheet.

AJ didn’t move. Pressing her lips to his shoulder, she waited to feel his heart … waited to feel his next breath. His chest rose and fell in a long, relaxed breath, and she sighed.

“I’d take it from you if I could. You have so much more to live for than I do,” she whispered, resting her hand against the side of his head as he continued to sleep. “I forgive you.” Uninvited tears stung her eyes. “I know you’re going to leave me.” She bit her upper lip, hard. “It’s okay to go. They need you more.”

Maybe someday it would be okay for her to need someone more than anyone else. Then again, maybe she was the ultimate survivor and needed no one. Who could live like that?

“What if I need you more?” AJ whispered, startling Jillian.

Resting her cheek on his back, she snaked her arms around his waist. He grabbed her hands and squeezed them, wringing the tears from her eyes—the life from her soul.

“Then I’m the luckiest woman alive. And I know I am … but not because you’re going to stay. It’s because I’ve had the privilege of loving a man that’s going to be completely selfless and go home for all the right reasons.”

“I have season tickets to Cage’s games. I want you to go to them … all of them.”

She squeezed his hands back. So. Very. Tight. “K.”

“And I want you to make sure he stays out of trouble. I know that’s a tall order for you.”

Jillian smiled.

“When?”

“When?” he questioned.

“When are you leaving?”

His chest expanded slowly. He inhaled a deep breath, the kind that gave one courage. “I’m going back with them tomorrow.”

She held her breath. She held everything completely together—absolutely still.

“Jillian?”

“Hmm?”

He rolled over and pulled her into his arms. The desperation in their embrace crushed something inside her. Something that could never be repaired.

“I need you to be okay with this. You are the strongest person I have ever met, and I’ve met some really strong people. If you can’t do this, I won’t be able to either.”

That strength he referred to had become her greatest weakness. A burden—a curse.

“Tell me you’ll be okay.”

A little girl’s voice—the one she heard when Claire died, the one that wept for her parents, and the one that whispered goodbye to her heart in argyle socks—it screamed so loud.

I’m not okay. I’m not strong. I’m not anything you think I am!

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered.

*

Cage James Monaghan came into the world at six fifty-five in the evening on August third. It was the only time Brooke had seen AJ cry. He held his son in his arms and promised to give him everything.

AJ added father to his list of failures in life, but Cage never did. While he loved his mother, he wanted to be with his father the hero. It was bittersweet trying to live up to the rock star status Cage had bestowed upon him. The gifted son of the fucked-up war veteran grew up to be a good man, a hard working student, and an amazing quarterback. All despite AJ’s influence.

The packed stadium roared to life as the sun made a brief appearance to say everything would be okay. Cage would be okay.

AJ didn’t keep track of the score. He watched his boy light up the field, his ex-wife cheer on their son, his parents beam with pride every time Cage completed a pass, and the deflated woman who took so much more than he ever imagined he had to give.

Jillian clapped when the crowd clapped and stared at the field the entire time. He heard her every word that morning. Felt the depths of her grief—saw the vacant look in her eyes. Every day he saw deeper into her heart … into her past. In such a short amount of time the things he hated most about her turned into the things he couldn’t imagine living without.

If she ever stopped getting the mail in her boots and panties, it would be the greatest crime ever at Peaceful Woods. The sex toy consultant with a Harley—that was Jillian. That was the woman he loved. That was the woman he fucked like his life depended on it. Somehow he knew the last image he would ever have would be of her.

“Good game, huh?” His dad rested a firm hand on AJ’s shoulder as the team walked off the field, celebrating their first victory.

AJ nodded. The time came for him to rob all of that happiness from Cage, tearing his world apart before saying goodbye, forever.

Everyone met up for dinner. The bar and grill bulged to capacity with rowdy victory partying. AJ didn’t rush anything. He gave his family time to share a meal, laugh, and celebrate. After the last bite, final beer, and check paid, his parents went home with Brooke’s husband, their girls, and Jillian. AJ and Brooke drove back to Cage’s place, and they ended his world as he knew it. Their two-hundred pound grown son sobbed like a little boy in his daddy’s arms. A Band-Aid, kiss, and sucker couldn’t fix it. Nothing could fix the ugliest part of life that knocked on AJ’s door.

Cage promised to come visit the first weekend he had off. He also promised AJ that he wasn’t dying. His son held the same optimism Char and Brooke clung to. That he could have. AJ wouldn’t take that from any of them. After all, what’s left when all hope is gone?

*

Jillian. That’s who remained when all hope faded into darkness. After the drive home with Brooke, he took a long shower. He closed his eyes and let his tears mix with the water and soap that he massaged through his hair. He cried for the boy who loved him so unconditionally, the father to the grandchildren he would never meet, the man who would do things so much bigger, so much better than AJ ever could.

“I’m so … very … sorry.”

He knew she’d come. She was his real. The keeper of his past. The defender of his honor. The breath he needed to get to the next one.

“Why?” His voice broke as he turned and fell to his knees at her feet.

She ran her hands through his hair as he hugged her waist. “I’ve had too many opportunities to contemplate death. I think it’s different for everyone, but for me … when my time comes, I won’t ask any questions. I’ll simply say thank you.” Her words fell upon him, soft and steady.

He looked up at her and after a long moment, he nodded. Then he dried them off and led her to his bedroom.

“Jill—”

She pressed her finger to his lips as he sat on the bed before her. “Show me.”

He nodded again and then he showed her. When he filled her, he rushed nothing. There was no hurry. All they had was now. Their hands caressed for a final lasting memory. Their lips said goodbye over and over. Their tears released the anger … the unfairness of it all. Then with a final thrust, he spilled into her with an angry grunt. The kind that said fuck you world. Fuck you cancer. Fuck you PTSD.

He fell asleep in her arms and woke beside a note.

Thank you. ~J

“Good bye, Jillian Knight,” he whispered, folding the note.