Chapter 19 Curtains
CURTAINS
Jesse
The wind was fierce when Jesse stepped out the back door, the chilling gusts bending the trees and setting the girls’ handmade chimes ringing.
The gentle tune was loud against the roar of nature, serving as a warning—one final reminder of what he stood to lose.
And yet, Jesse blazed right past the signs, with only one thought on his mind.
He’d spent the evening with Zoey and Abby—making them dinner, playing a board game, and then shepherding them through their nightly routines.
It was a process he treasured. Their natural companionship and easy humor.
That evening, however, he was distracted, working to keep his mind in the moment while he moved through the motions.
Once the girls were in bed, he headed back to the kitchen, knowing he needed to clean up their mess.
He scanned the room, mapping out a quick plan of attack while he scratched at his elbow.
Then he dove in, trying and failing to keep his focus on the task at hand, scrubbing and haphazardly loading dishes into the dishwasher.
He could clearly visualize the look that would be on Eliana’s face if she were there—the horror at his disorganization.
But she wasn’t there. Because she was with Milo.
So Jesse thought of that instead. An endless loop of thoughts he couldn’t banish, no matter how hard he scrubbed.
He thought about the fact that the two should’ve already arrived in Elliston, though Eliana had yet to call.
He thought of how easy it would be for Milo to slip into her hotel room.
How his hands would slide along Eliana’s soft skin.
His mouth on her neck. His whispers in her ear. Her body . . . willing.
The sound of glass shattering brought Jesse back to the moment, his vision sharpening on a broken mug, scattered in the sink.
He gripped the edges of the counter, breathing through his teeth.
The thoughts plagued him, one after another, with no relief.
That is, until he found himself on Bea’s back porch, anticipation swirling in his gut as the windstorm raged around him.
Bea opened the door, surprise in her eyes, and a coy, seductive smile on her lips.
“I thought you had the girls?” she asked, glancing over at his house. “Did Eliana come back?”
“No,” Jesse grunted, bristling at the unsolicited concern and annoyed at the mention of the wife that had driven him to this point. “The girls are in bed. They’re twelve, not five.”
Bea’s brows lowered at his tone, her gaze narrowing. “I know they’re not babies, Jesse.”
“Then stop trying to parent my kids,” he snapped, pulling his jacket tighter around his frame. He stepped back a pace, wondering what he was doing—how he’d gotten himself into this position. Pining for his wife and unable to have her. Reduced to begging for scraps from another.
He was no beggar.
A flash of something wild flared in Bea’s eyes as she watched the indecision play across his face.
She followed his movement, stepping out onto the porch after him.
She was unprepared, with no jacket to block the cold, her silky tank rippling in the wind.
Jesse stepped forward naturally to provide a barrier from the elements, until there was only an inch separating their bodies.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “That wasn’t my intention.”
Jesse didn’t bother to respond with words, not when she stared up at him with so much heat and apology in her dark eyes. What he would give to have Eliana look at him that way. To have that same wild look in her eyes—that desperation he felt, and which he craved.
He thought back to the last time they’d been intimate, and for the briefest moment, Bea’s dark irises were replaced with Eliana’s gentle green. Without hesitation, Jesse lunged, shutting his eyes tight as he locked the memory into place. He groaned at the contact of his lips as they found hers.
But . . . the lips were wrong. The height was wrong. Hell, even the smell was wrong.
He could pretend.
Just for one more night.
One last weekend.
Nobody would ever know.
He was so caught up in the moment, so absorbed in the excitement of what was to come and the storm of emotion he found himself unqualified to handle—Jesse never thought to consider the lone birdhouse secured in a shadowed corner of his porch, the dark hole quietly watching down the long nose of its perch.
And directly beneath the birdhouse, the gentle flutter of curtains was lost to the violence of the wind outside, falling quietly back into place—just as Bea reached forward and pulled Jesse inside.