For Fox Sake

Chapter 14

Jake

Her cheeks pinken. She sets her fork down, her eyes dipping down to her lap before lifting to mine. “You’re right. It is unfair. But saying that, or even allowing myself to admit it feels like it’s somehow dishonoring what my family has gone through. How could I have been selfish about nursing school when my baby sister was sick and dying? How can I blame my mom for being sick and incapable of caring for herself?”

I reach over. I have to touch her. I put my hand over hers. “You can’t. I know.”

A surge of understanding and recognition passes between us. It’s like a silent conversation. Time stands still. I can’t tear my gaze away. It’s more intimate than a kiss. We’ve been kindred spirits all along.

The moment is so intense, I can’t help but laugh.

Then we both laugh.

She swallows and shakes her head, her eyes shifting down to her handbag. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to call Ari to say good night before it gets too late.”

“Of course.”

She winds through tables, and as soon as she rounds the corner toward the restrooms and disappears from view, I rub my hands down my face.

Did that totally freak her out as much as it freaked me out?

I’m telling her everything. Maybe when we’re on our way back home. No, not while I’m driving. I don’t want her to feel trapped, and she might want to get as far away from me as possible.

As soon as I park the truck in front of her house, I’ll tell her. Just put it out there. Then she can yell and scream and hit me in private before running away and possibly evicting me.

I have to find a way to make it up to her.

I like her. So much. Too much.

We have this... connection. I can’t even explain it. Telling her the truth is going to ruin it, but I can’t keep it from her. Not anymore.

The waitress comes back with the check, and I pay it before Ryan returns. I hope she is okay. Hopefully everything is okay with Ari.

I glance around the room until my eyes snag on Ryan. She’s standing beside a table halfway between our table and the entrance, talking to someone.

Her smile is strained, even from this distance.

I scan the table’s occupants. It’s the couple from the hospital, her ex-boyfriend and fiancé.

I slip out of the booth seat and head in her direction.

“Hey, there, I missed you.” I slide my arm around her waist and dip my head, speaking low in her ear. “Did you need an assist?”

Her hand covers mine on her waist. “Uh, this is Jake. Jake, this is Shane and Sam.”

“Samantha.” Her nostrils flare.

Cute.

“Right. Hi. I see you are both enjoying a date night like we are.” I grin down at Ryan.

She’s gazing up at me, mouth partially open, a bird caught in a trap.

“We’re celebrating my pregnancy.” Samantha beams at Shane.

Shane is staring at me, frowning.

“Congratulations. Kids are incredible. They change your life, you know? I love spending time with Ari. The kid’s hilarious.”

Samantha’s head bobs emphatically in agreement.

Then Shane opens his mouth. “Yeah, she is great. I was there when she was born, you know. I changed her diapers and held her at night when she cried. I’m her Uncle Shane.”

I narrow my gaze on him. The filthy liar. “Weird. She never talks about you. And she had a birthday last weekend. You weren’t there. So even if you were there when she was born, you’re not doing a great job of sticking around for her, Uncle Shane.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from spilling into my tone.

His eyes widen, his mouth puckering like he just sucked on a lemon. “I can’t always be there for a child who isn’t mine.”

I pause and stare at him, counting to ten.

Ryan tenses even further beside me. In a minute she’s going to start vibrating she’s so rigid.

I wait until his words have truly sunk in for everyone at the table. Samantha shifts, still smiling, but the edges are forced and strained.

I moderate my tone, keeping it even and unemotional. “Anyone can make a child, but few have the courage to raise one. It is my privilege to be a part of her life, and I feel sorry for anyone who can’t see that.”

I dip my head to speak low in Ryan’s ear, already putting this interaction and this douchebag out of my mind. At no moment did he ever deserve Ryan. “Do you want to dance?” Damn, she smells good, the bright floral notes of her perfume tickling my nose.

Her hand covers mine, and she grips it firmly. “Yes. Please.”

Without another word to the couple at the table, I whisk her onto the dance floor.

Her arms go around my neck, fingers brushing my nape.

I draw her close. It’s a slow country song that I’ve never heard, but it might be my new favorite. We move together among the rest of the swaying couples.

“Are you okay?” I murmur.

“Yes. Thank you for the rescue.”

“I hope I wasn’t overstepping. I know you wanted to avoid them at the hospital, and I was trying to help you make a getaway, but if I?—”

“What you said, about Ari, about being a parent, did you mean it?”

I blink down at her. “Of course.”

She swallows. “Thank you. You know, you’re kind of amazing.”

I preen, pretending to toss my hair over my shoulder. “I had to go through a lot of being an immature asshole to become the stunning man you see before you.”

She laughs.

“I’m not perfect.” I swallow. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes, in the past and more recently.” Things I still need to inform her of. My stomach twists with nerves. This is going to suck.

“Everyone makes mistakes. It’s part of the human condition. We are all learning and growing and figuring this whole life thing out.”

I really hope she’s this understanding and forgiving later.

She leans in, resting her head on my shoulder.

I want to freeze this moment in time, take it out when this is all over, so I can reexperience Ryan in my arms, the curve of her waist against the sensitive pads of my fingers, the scent of her skin, the way she relaxes against me, warm and trusting.

I’m a fool. An idiot. I deserve all the guilt thundering through me.

The song ends and her head lifts.

My hands flex around her waist. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes.”

The drive back is quiet.

As we draw nearer to her house, my anxiety intensifies, reaching a crescendo by the time I park. My palms are clammy. I grip the steering wheel tightly, the weight of anticipation heavy in my gut.

Moment of truth.

I kill the engine and shift to face her. Her gaze is directed down, unclipping her seat belt.

“Ryan, I have to tell you, I?—”

She scoots across the bench seat, reaches up and grabs my face with both hands, and presses her mouth to mine.

I freeze. I can’t move. I can’t let her do this.

Her mouth moves against mine. Her lips are soft, warm, probing.

Holy hell.

Heat blasts through me and then I’m kissing her back. More than mere kissing. Devouring.

Her hands move down my face to my shoulders.

I cup the side of her face, tilting her jaw for better access. She tastes like honey and lemon and heaven. Her tongue slides against mine and every blood cell in my body rushes south.

Brain has left the chat.

I need more, more of her flesh under my mouth. My lips graze down her neck, moving down to her collarbone and biting gently. She groans and the sound shoots straight to my cock. The most erotic noise ever made.

She gasps. “I want to feel more of you.”

Yes.

She tugs my shirt from my pants and then her fingers brush against the sensitive skin of my stomach. Now I’m the one gasping.

“Not enough,” she murmurs.

Not nearly enough.

She leans back and whips her shirt over her head.

I stare, open-mouthed. She’s all soft skin and subtle curves and she’s wearing a black lacy bra that’s mostly see-through and fuck.

Her hair is wild around her face, her eyes drowsy, lips swollen.

Beautiful.

Reaching forward with one hand, I trace the tips of my fingers over her lips. Her tongue flicks out against the pad of my thumb, and I shudder.

Swallowing hard, I trail my touch down, over her collarbone, then cup her breast in my hands.

Heaven.

Her breathing is ragged. “Jake. We need to go inside.”

The words penetrate through the haze of lust clouding my mind.

I can’t go inside. I shouldn’t have gotten sucked into this moment. I should have told her the truth immediately.

Her hand runs down my chest, cupping the bulge between my legs and I suck air in through my teeth.

No.

I rest a hand over hers. “Ryan. Before we go inside, I need to tell you something.”

Her eyes fly up to mine. She blinks, wariness slowly overtaking lust in her expression. “Oh. Okay.”

She releases me, moving back a few inches. I want to eliminate even that scant distance, reach for her, hold her hand or something, but if she touches me again, I might not be able to get through this.

“The real reason I came to Dull was to find you.”

Her head jerks back. “What?”

I scrub a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t completely honest when you asked why I was here in Dull. I did want to leave Whitby for all the reasons I told you, that wasn’t a lie, but I left out the thing that brought me here in the first place.”

She shakes her head, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“My sister, my twin, the one we talked about... the one who died.” I swallow.

She nods slowly, watching me with wary eyes.

“Her name.” I stop and swallow. I’ve only said her name once since she passed, and it was an accident. This is the first time I’ve said it, out loud, willingly. “Aria. Her name was Aria.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her face is blank, emotionless, like a statue.

My heart is pounding.

Is she even breathing?

I keep talking. “I found your letters. The ones you sent to my dad about Mia after her transplant. He never told us about the heart donation. I didn’t know. I only had the letters and there wasn’t much in them to understand the relationship, and I didn’t know why you were writing to him, and I-I had to know. I came here to find out why and... now I know.”

She lifts a hand. “Wait. Hold on. I don’t understand. Your sister, your twin who died. Your twin was Aria? The Aria? The one who?—?”

“Yes. I just made the connection, today.”

The silence beats down on my head while she searches my eyes in the dim light and the puzzle pieces click together in her mind.

“You lied to me.”

I wince. I can’t deny it.

“Why?”

I swallow, mouth dry. “At first I was surprised when you weren’t a dude, and then I wasn’t sure if I should just ask or if I should wait to see if we were related?—”

“You thought we were related?” Her voice is shrill.

I wince.

“How did you—if you just made the connection about the heart transplant today, how long did you think we were related and how did you figure out we weren’t? Assuming you kissed me after you determined we were,” she waves a hand, “genetically variant.”

I rub my chin. “Well, that’s a funny story, actually.” I frown. I do not want to tell her about digging through her trash.

Damn. I really messed this up.

I stare out the windshield into the dark street, struggling to find the right words to explain why I’m a complete moron.

But then she speaks in hushed tones.

“Is that why you’re doing all this?” Her voice breaks on the last word. Her eyes are wide, mouth turned down.

“Doing all what?”

“Pretending to like me.”

Something in my chest cracks. “No. No. Not at all it’s not?—”

Her back straightens. “You lied to me.”

I can’t deny it. But... “I also told you truths I’ve never shared with anyone else.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

I have no response.

Her eyes are wet and full of hurt and it’s my fault.

Without another word, she picks her shirt up from the seat between us and slips out of the car, shutting the door behind her without force, like it’s a normal end to the night and she’s going inside and my whole world hasn’t just been smashed to pieces because of my own bad choices.

Fuck.

I sit in the car for a few minutes, maybe longer, just staring out the window. My body aches with the guilt. This hurts. I wish I could escape into a bottle of something strong and stinging, but I immediately push the thought aside. When you have a problem and you drink, now you have two problems. I know this. I’ve learned this. I’m better than this, even if right now, it’s hard to believe.

Eventually, I get out of the truck and walk across the street toward my rental.

There’s an unfamiliar car parked out front. A dark midsize sedan.

And movement on my front porch.

“Are you hooking up with your neighbor?” a familiar voice calls out.

Shock halts me in my tracks. “Finley?”