24. Jensen
24
JENSEN
My Jeep rolls to a slow stop when I spot a familiar pickup truck—Pam’s truck—parked in front of my house. Turning into the driveway, my headlights sweep across the porch and illuminate the small form sitting on the steps.
The pounding in my chest increases as I shut off the engine, cloaking the porch in darkness. Is Maisy’s appearance a good sign or a bad sign? She could’ve decided I’m not worth her time. Or she could be ready to talk and work things out. Either way, I gather my courage and climb out of my Jeep to face her.
As I approach, she stands to greet me with a solemn expression on her face, revealing nothing. “You’re here,” I say, stating the obvious.
“I am.” She wraps her arms around her middle, as if she’s cold despite the balmy air, and avoids my gaze.
I clear my throat and swallow my nerves. “Let’s go inside.”
She follows as I open the door and flip on a few lights, keeping the kitchen and living room moderately dim. Light enough for us to see each other, but dark enough to hide our fears.
“Need anything?” I ask, opening the refrigerator.
Shaking her head, she sits on the couch and folds her hands in her lap, clutching her phone. I snag two water bottles in case she becomes thirsty. Steadying the tremor in my hand, I place them on stone coasters on the coffee table.
I’m not sure what to do next. Do I sit or stand or kneel at her feet? Apprehension fills the air, along with a tension so thick it could raze cities or add to the earth’s population, depending on how this night goes.
I rest my hands on my hips and breathe in and out, slow and steady. “Maisy?—”
“You better get started,” she says, cutting me off as she presses buttons on her phone, then tosses it aside. “Five minutes.”
My breath stalls, and the fear of verbal struggle grips me in a chokehold. At last, she meets my gaze, and the playfulness gleaming in her eyes has me dropping to my knees in sheer relief.
Groaning, I wrap my arms around her hips and drop my head into her lap. “Don’t do that to me. Did you really set a timer?”
“No, I was just messing with you. I’m sorry.” Her tone is sincere despite speaking through a smile. She’s always had a wry sense of humor, and I welcome its return, even at my expense. Tucking strands of hair behind my ears, she says, “I wanted to make you sweat a little, but putting you on the spot was thoughtless of me.”
Because I’m unable to form words when I’m put on the spot.
Because my being put on the spot is what got us to this point.
Closing my eyes, I take a second to breathe in her coconut scent—sweet and creamy—but nothing is sweeter than the next words that spill from her lips.
“I’m ready, J.”
My head pops up, and our gazes connect. Her earlier confidence wavers as she searches my face for any sign of hesitation or doubt within me. She won’t find it. I’ve never been more certain about anything like I’m certain about us.
Unsure where to begin this long-awaited conversation, I blurt, “I wrote you a book.”
The runaway admission sets my ears aflame. She notices the reddening since she’s the one who tucked my damn hair behind them, exposing my physical tell. I’ll give her credit. She makes a valiant effort to stifle her amusement.
Rubbing my ears between her fingers and thumbs, she asks, “You want to unsay that, don’t you?”
“More than anything,” I admit.
“Well, it’s too late now. Show me this book.”
With a heavy sigh, I stretch my arm to retrieve the notebook from the side table. She plucks it from my fingers with far more excitement than she normally shows. For someone who instinctively guards her emotions, she’s practically giddy.
Her amusement grows as she flips through the first few pages, then flips back to the start. She draws her lips between her teeth, her eyes glistening with barely restrained humor.
I sag in defeat. “Go on and say it.”
“It’s a picture book.” She chokes on the words, as if a burst of laughter clogs her throat.
“Of us,” I say, seeking the tiniest thread of dignity to hold on to.
“We’re stick figures.”
“It’s the best I could do.”
“I look like Medusa.” She turns another page, and her laughter breaches the surface at last. “We both look like Medusa.”
“Forget it.” I attempt to steal the notebook from her, but she raises it over her head. “Give it back, birdie.”
“Never. It’s mine.” She squeals when I flip her onto her back and dig my fingers in her sides, tickling her. “Okay! Okay! Truce!”
She’s breathtaking when she laughs—wide smile, flushed cheeks, sparkling hazel eyes. Beautiful and happy and mine. My Maisy .
Hovering above her, I ease the pressure of my fingers on her ribs and lightly brush my lips against hers. The soft kiss is a palette cleanser as the mood shifts from carefree fun to confession time. We stare at each other long enough to witness the shared joy in our eyes fade away, replaced by years of separation, heartache, and longing.
“Come here,” I say, settling onto the couch as I guide her to sit astride me. This conversation needs to happen face to face without either of us hiding.
She straddles my lap and hugs the notebook to her chest like a shield. I squeeze her thighs, needing a connection to keep me steady while I formulate a speech in my head.
“I want to remind you of our childhood and how happy we were. But also show you our future and how happy we can be. I left some pages blank for the in-between because the years we spent apart had no meaning, no color.” I shrug a shoulder. “Drawing seemed like a better option than putting my thoughts into words.”
“Jensen.” My name floats from her lips on a sigh, and I brace myself for the worst. “I don’t need pictures to remind me of our good memories. They’ve always stayed with me. It’s the one bad memory I want to forget, so I need you to rewrite it.”
Need.
I shake my head, which hangs with the weight of my sins. “How? We can’t go back in time, as much as I wish for a do-over.”
“We can,” she insists.
The spark of determination in her gaze has me sitting up straighter. “Explain.”
She places the notebook on the table and laces our fingers together. “Close your eyes.” Trusting her, I do as she says. “Now imagine us on the porch that day. Imagine walking toward me, sitting beside me, asking me how I’m doing.”
Her tone grows softer, threaded with pain as the heartbreak from that day surrounds us. I remember the anger thrumming through her body and, during a moment of weakness, the plea in her trembling voice. I recall the sharp agony ripping through me with every second the sunshine cast a spotlight on the hope fading from her eyes. I remember stealing the last of her belief in love—of her faith in me. The disappointment. God , the disappointment.
My chest heaves in rhythm with my strong regret, and she cups my cheeks to quell the rapid rise of my self-loathing. Then she whispers, “Now imagine us a few years older, sitting on that same bench. Without thinking, say everything you wanted to tell me that day.”
“I love you.” No hesitation. “I’ve loved you since before I knew what love is. It’s different from how I feel about my parents or Jake or my friends. You ground me. Comfort me. I can breathe when you’re around. You’re my best friend. Not Logan or Javi or Trevor. You. When something good happens, you’re the first person I tell. When I’m spiraling in my head, you’re my only salvation. I can’t live without you. One day I’m gonna marry you and give you the loving home you deserve. The one you should’ve had all along. I’ll protect you, care for you, and make you smile. Always.” Clearing my throat, I add, “That’s just a little of what I would say.”
With my eyes closed, Maisy Donovan presses her lips to mine. This time, I don’t push her away. I reach for her face, absorbing her tears through my fingertips. Our lips part, and our tongues glide in a slow dance of awakening. This kiss, teeming with honesty and surrender, marks a union decades in the making. She’s giving herself to me. Not out of lust, but out of the love she’s afraid to admit exists. In eager acceptance, I draw her to my chest, never willing to let go again.
I want her. All of her. But if she’s only willing to part with a kiss tonight, I’ll treasure the gift.
When she pulls away from me, I groan at the loss of her lips, chasing them with mine.
“Open your eyes,” she whispers. We gaze into each other’s souls as her eyes glisten with remorse. “I’m so sorry. I’ve always been sorry and regretted my decision as soon as I slammed the door on you. Running away—staying away—was easier than admitting my mistake or dealing with the hurt. I blamed you for everything, but I was wrong. I never should’ve put you in that position. And I had no right to punish you for being honorable and doing the right thing.”
“I’ve only wanted to do right by you, even if my actions hurt us. But I never expected you to cut me off like you did.”
“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
I caress her curls before palming her cheek. “I forgave you the second you walked away because I could only be angry with myself. I was scared. A coward. And I’m the one who should beg for forgiveness here. If I had given you what you needed, we wouldn’t have lost so much time.”
The pressure from her hand on the back of my neck urges us closer. “Let’s put it behind us. Start fresh.”
“Are you done being stubborn?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Her whispered response caresses my lips, and I claim her mouth once again, passing all the unspoken words of forgiveness, adoration, and worship from my tongue to hers. She slips her fingers into my hair, and I harden beneath her, coaxing a whimper from her when she grinds against my erection. I run my hands along the dip of her waist and wrap them around her ribs, just below her breasts.
“There’s no starting over or starting fresh for us. We’re exactly where we belong. But there’s one more confession I need to hear from you.” Lightly brushing my thumbs across her pebbled nipples, I ask, “Does your body crave me, birdie? Because mine starves for you.”
“You already know it does,” she replies while rolling her hips, mouth parted as if she’s in a trance.
I’m the one under her spell, a fact she proved in the bathroom at the wedding. She’s utterly irresistible. My biggest weakness and my greatest strength.
I press my forehead to hers, and relief forces my eyelids shut when I exhale. At last, I’m able to drop my carefully constructed facade and be my authentic self with the only person in the world who’s seen every crack in my brittle bones.
“God, I missed you. Every day without you was torture. My own personal hell on repeat from morning to night. I need you, Maisy. So much that I scare myself sometimes.”
“I’m here now, J. And I’ll take care of you.”
When she kisses me, all my demons fall into a peaceful slumber. My mind can finally rest in the serenity I’ve been missing since she banished me.
“I want all the way in,” I say. “Be more than just my friend or the woman in my dreams. Give me all the parts of you, even the ones you fear the most, and have faith that I’ll cherish them.”
She leans away and chews her bottom lip, contemplating her next words. “I’ll let you in, but I have some rules.”
“Rules,” I echo, not liking the sound of the word. At all.
“If we’re gonna explore this, I have hard limits.”
Her suggestion that we’re merely exploring is laughable, but her mention of hard limits intrigues me. I keep my thoughts on both matters to myself.
“We’re exclusive.” She loops her arms around my neck and plays with my hair. The thought of her tugging it sends a delightful shiver down my spine.
“That’s a given. You were born with my heart in your hands. Once you claim my body, you’ll own me completely. Nothing and no one could ever take me away from you.”
The tips of our noses rub together, and I hold her head in my hands, dragging my nose along her cheek and jaw as I breathe her in. The air thickens with desire, and we’re unable to fight the magnetism any longer.
“There’s more,” she says as I suck on her exposed throat.
The huskiness in her voice lights my flesh on fire, and I’m desperate for her proclamations to reach a swift end. My body aches to be one with hers, but I summon patience and hear her out.
“You give me space when I need it. Don’t try to control my life.”
“We both know you hold all the power.” I nip her earlobe with my teeth, and she digs her sharp nails into my shoulders. “What else?” I ask gruffly, relishing the pain.
“Don’t hide from me. I want all the way in with you too.”
I’m buzzing beneath my skin. Anticipation swirls like an agitated hornet’s nest at what she’s offering: her complete submission.
This time, I’m the one who pulls back to capture her gaze, needing confirmation of her absolute understanding. “Are you sure? You may not like what you find behind that door. I don’t do halves, Maisy. You can’t ask for all of me, only to retreat in fear when you think I’m too much to handle.”
“I know who you are. And you’re always safe with me, like I’m safe with you.”
My voice drops lower, and her body shudders as I deliver a truthful secret to her ear. “If you knew all the things I want to do to you, you’d keep running and seek safety elsewhere.”
She groans, shifting the angle of her hips in search of friction. “How will this part even work?”
“Which part?”
“Look at us.” She gestures weakly between us to indicate our size differences. I’m over a foot taller and weigh at least a hundred pounds more than her. “You’ll crush me.”
I slip my hands inside the hem of her short green romper and beneath her panties, grabbing two palmfuls of her ass and dragging her roughly against my aching erection. A surprised gasp escapes her plush, parted lips.
“I promise not to crush you, but I can’t promise not to flip you or fold you in half. My imagination’s endless when I fantasize about all the ways you’ll come undone. I’ll coax every ounce of pleasure from your body until you’re left with nothing but the whisper of my name on your tired lips.”
“Jensen,” she breathes, her pupils blown wide with desire, chest heaving.
Her needy moan and pulsing thighs signal the green light I’ve been waiting for. I scoot off the couch with her wrapped around me and carry her toward the bedroom, my mouth glued to the smooth skin of her neck.
“Please don’t make me regret this,” she whispers.
I look her in the eyes and swear a sacred vow I intend to keep forever. “The only thing you’ll ever regret, my beautiful birdie, is that I didn’t catch you sooner.”