43. Jolie
43
JOLIE
I ’ve always loved winter, but the first sign of frost has never made me giddy. Not until today. It creeps around the windowpane, curving along the finger-drawn letters.
I’M HERE, TEMPEST.
SEE YOU SOON.
I’m still in bed, “Ice Cream” blaring from my phone. My eyes dart over to the thermostat, noticing it’s dropped a few degrees. A smile peels up my lips and my hand goes to my mate mark. “Where are you?”
“Good morning. I see you got my message.” His smooth baritone is every comfort I need. Even though his tone sounds calm, the excitement thrumming through my chest doesn’t belong solely to me.
“Yes. You came by already?” I can’t believe I missed it. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You’re so peaceful when you sleep.”
I groan, wishing as he chuckles that he was here so I could smack him with a pillow. “You know, you’re lucky you’re my mate. Otherwise that would be a lot creepier sounding.”
“If I remember correctly, you still fell for me after my initial creeping.”
“I’m pretty sure that sort of wooing only worked on Bella.”
“Are you comparing me to a sparkly vampire?”
“If the stalkerish behavior fits,” I quip, but before I make another snarky comment, it flits away, replaced by a realization. “Wait. You actually know the reference?”
“Yes, we learn about it during our Frost training. It’s useful to know about how the mortals view anything related to our culture before we send new Frosts into the world… Though I have to admit, we tend to focus on Jacob. The better choice of the two. Obviously.”
“Says the wolf.”
“We’ll see how much of a Team Edward fan you are the next time you want your feet warmed or are desperate to be stretched and quaking around my knot.”
Well, damn.
I swallow hard, thinking far too much about Jax and his very special anatomy. How much I really do want to be quaking around him.
“Tempest…” His growl shakes through me. “I need to get winter started before I get started with you. Otherwise, I won’t get anything done.”
It’s a sensual warning I have no intention of heeding. Once I’m done with rehearsals, that is. “How much longer?”
He groans and, god, I missed that sound. I can’t wait to hear it up close, rasped against my skin. “What time are you done with rehearsals?”
“Four.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“I’ll be counting down the minutes.”
“Same, Tempest. See you then.”
I jump out of bed and get ready at lightning speed. The fact that I’m running late to class is the only thing distracting me from freaking out over seeing Jax later. I’ll be able to kiss him, hold him through the night. We got our wish to have him back on the East Coast. As much as I wanted to torment him into coming to me right away, I don’t want to do anything that will have him sent elsewhere. This will be our first full season together.
Besides, I still have classes to attend.
When I get to the studio, I have about five minutes to warm up before company class hits the barre for pliés. Mistress Maral decides to mix things up, changing the combinations—which she does annually. It’s nice to be learning them alongside everyone this time, not having to catch up. We’re all a little lost together, but we get through the new changes with a shorter center and across the floor section of class. We’re between performances, so after a short break we work on conditioning, followed by pas de deux technique where we practice different lifts. It makes the time go by swiftly, which I’m grateful for.
I’m lifted over Vincent’s head, leg extended and back arched. We set the position, and once he feels steady, he walks in a circle around himself. My gaze passes the window, and I catch a white furry snout and captivating eyes peeking from an all-too-familiar spot.
“Focus, Tempest,” Jax tuts. “If he drops what’s most precious to me, I’ll have to get some icy retribution on my mate’s behalf.”
I drag my attention back to the lift. Vincent sets me down before we continue the rest of the class. When everyone hits the ice baths and recovery room, I do a quick stretch and then grab my things, heading out the door. Thank goodness today wasn’t one of my PT days. I’m pretty sure I’d end up ditching poor Heather.
When I get outside, Jax is waiting for me, no longer in his earthside form. He puts his arm around me and we head to the metro. Though he seems a little unnerved sitting with me for the ride, he does.
“You know, you could just zip back to my place and meet me there.”
“And miss another minute with you?” He crosses his arms. “I don’t think so.”
I rest my forehead on his shoulder, not caring if it looks a little odd. Everyone else is focused on the hustle and bustle of their own lives, I’m going to enjoy every moment of mine.
The entire walk back to the apartment, we talk while Jax continues to spread winter around DC. He sprinkles frost over the grass, wrangles the breeze with a blow of air from his lips and a swish of his arms. As we ascend each stair up to my floor, he draws ice along the rail and pulls down icicles from the awnings. It’s so effortless and second nature. Little details I easily overlooked before.
Then we’re in front of my door, my breaths painting the air white when his arms wrap around me. His bulge presses into my back. When I open the door, I have half a mind to jump him, but instead I’m met by Delilah’s loud cheers. “Get over here, the game’s about to start!”
“Umm… I know I said I’d watch tonight, but I actually really need a shower.” Lark’s got another Nutcracker performance tonight. In a few days, the show is closing for the season. Delilah and I have become a steady source of company for each other. It’s been nice, but of course my mind is wandering to the things I’d like to be doing with Jax alone in my bedroom right now.
“Oh, okay. If you get done in time, come check out the rest!”
“Sounds good,” I say, leading Jax toward the bedroom.
Delilah continues to cheer in the background. “Let’s go Redhots!”
When I get to the door, I realize he has stopped, attention pinned to the screen Delilah’s currently bouncing around in front of, clapping her hands.
I backtrack and nudge him with my elbow. “Want to stay and watch?”
“No, that’s okay…” But there’s something cracked in his tone.
“Actually, Delilah, I need to cool off before I shower.”
She steps back and pats the couch. “Get on over here, then, Jojo.”
I nod toward Jax, and he follows me to the couch, putting his arm around me as we sit together behind the Redhots’ number one fan.
“Yeah, Winston, get around ’em!” Delilah cheers at the screen. Jax’s arm tenses, but he doesn’t look at me or say anything. “Go, go, go!”
“She’s very enthusiastic.” Jax laughs. He watches her reactions, the beautiful sound echoing throughout the room, though I’m the only one who can hear him. I memorize the way every piece of his silver-and-blue hair shakes with his vibrating body. It sends a heady buzz through me, joy spreading along our bond.
“You have no idea,” I say, grabbing some Twizzler popcorn and tossing it into my mouth.
His brother skates toward the goal, smacking the puck into the net. We cheer alongside the crowd on TV as Winston Myles does a celebratory fist pump and his fellow players glide over to join him. Then he skates toward the bench, bumping gloves with each of his teammates down the line.
Jax’s eyes glitter as he takes it all in.
We watch the rest of the game. Delilah’s yelling makes up for Jax’s silence. When it’s over, he follows me to my room, holding my hand. The thermostat drops as soon as he enters.
So many emotions muddle our bond, a flurry of feelings I can’t read. Whatever he’s thinking, I want him to remember he’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again. Neither of us will.
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close to me.
“You okay?” I ask, glad to finally not have to speak through the link.
“He’s good. Older,” Jax says, voice quieter than usual, laced with a sad sort of pride. “I knew he played, but I hadn’t seen him in a while.”
“How old was he the last time you visited him?”
His brows draw together. “Twenty, I think, give or take a season.”
Based on the articles I’ve found online, Winston Myles is thirty-three years old. It’s been almost thirteen years since Jax has last seen his brother. I had done the math when I learned about them both. If Jax had lived beyond the accident, he’d be about thirty-nine now. I cross the room to my drawer and snatch out my journal, handing it to him. “Here.”
Stepping backward until he can sit on the mattress, Jax flips to the first page, then the next. Each one’s filled with articles I’ve compiled about his life and his brother’s. Page by page he continues to read, a few tears tracking down his cheeks that he wipes away. When he gets to my entries with long, bulleted lists of wins and paragraphs cataloging our moments, together and apart, I hold my hand out for him. “I’ll take that back now.”
“Worried about me reading something in particular?”
“There’s nothing in there you haven’t experienced first-hand.” It’s our story scratched onto the pages, words and doodles I return to when Fate and the seasons keep him away. A physical reminder of my belief. “It helped me cope while I missed you. I wanted to know about you. Your life. I also thought maybe you’d want to know too. I meant to show it to you in Australia, but you were so angry when I brought up your brother…”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t angry.” He kisses me, deepening it a moment before he rests his forehead on mine.
The blues and silvers of his eyes glint with their mesmerizing, prismatic flecks. I’ll never tire of letting them hypnotize me.
“Sometimes it’s easier to keep that part of my existence separate. Even if it’s a part of me. I don’t want to forget my mortality, but sometimes it just hurts too damn much.”
“I understand.” I cup his cheek with my palm, his chill seeping into the pads of my fingertips. “It’s how I feel about the accident. It’s easier to pretend it didn’t happen, but eventually, it catches up to me and I’m hit with the pain that my mom is gone all over again. Or at least I did, until I saw her.” I give him a small smile, thinking back to seeing her as an autumn harbinger. While I didn’t want the night to end, I carry her with me like she reminded, and I hold on to her promise that she’ll see me again one day. “Thanks for that.”
“You already thanked me.” He nuzzles my nose with his own, then traces it up to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Well, there are many things to thank you for.” He saved me, revived my life, turning my story into something beautiful despite the tragedies that could never be unwritten .
Jax sucks in a breath, and though I can’t articulate the words, I let him feel the weight of them through our bond. I press up onto my tiptoes and drift my lips along his, then nip the bottom one before kissing him with the force of two lost seasons. I kiss him like we have all the time in the world and no time at all, savoring and devouring him all at once. “In fact, I’m very eager to show my gratitude in person.”
“Is that so?” He arches a brow. “What did you have in mind?”
Pressing my palm to his mate mark, I lower him to my comforter. I straddle his waist and his hands grip my thighs. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned something about quaking around your knot earlier?” I reach for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. “Think you’d be up for a demonstration?”
My mate mark glows between us, and his chest heaves, pupils blowing away the prisms of his irises. His body comes to life beneath mine, and I rock back and forth over the bulge, wanting to taste him and feel the fullness of him settled within me.
Jax cocks his head at me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I think I can manage that.”