Chapter Ten
“Y ou’re sure you don’t mind waiting?”
“Of course not. You do your thing. I’ll come back and fetch you in what, ninety minutes? Two hours?”
“Two, at least. Kat’s ordering lunch, and then I think she wants me to try partnering with the guy who’s playing the lead.”
“I’ll find something to occupy myself, don’t you worry. Just focus on what you’re doing.”
“Thank you, Caleb.” Jessa flung her arms around his neck. He could practically feel the excitement vibrating through her and he held her tightly, hoping she knew that he was here for her, no matter what.
“Do you have any dietary restrictions?” One of Kat’s assistants leaned out into the lobby. Jessa released her hold on Caleb, flashing him an elated smile.
“See you soon,” she whispered, and slipped away through the door.
Finally on his own, Caleb exhaled heavily, releasing the breath he felt like he’d been holding since they arrived at the theater that morning .
And what a morning it had been. He figured Jessa would breeze on in and knock everyone off their feet, and his biggest job would be finding somewhere nearby for lunch. He hadn’t understood at all how demanding her profession was, or that all of her stories of open hostility and brutal critique were one-hundred-percent true.
He’d take the fiercest bucking bull over that ice queen Kat any day.
But Jessa had turned it around, like he knew she could. He already thought the world of her, and when she sniffed away her tears, marched back to that stage and delivered, well, his feelings ratcheted up to somewhere altogether unknown. Somewhere he’d never climb down from, because the only way out was to fall.
Which is why he intended to use these next couple of hours to do what he should’ve done a long time ago.
He searched his email and dug up the message one of his sisters had sent him three years back. She was married to one of his ex-wife’s cousins and had somehow come across Annette’s address and forwarded it to him.
In case you ever need closure , she’d written.
He smiled as he thought of Candace, the second of his three older sisters. Dutiful and obedient, she nodded quietly through their childhood, never arguing, never complaining. But he saw the landscapes she drew in her notebook, the city skylines and wide blue oceans, places so far beyond the limits of their foothills homestead they may as well have been fairy tales.
They only exchanged single-sentence birthday and Christmas greetings—anything more could get her in trouble with their parents—but whenever he found himself somewhere particularly beautiful, he sent her a postcard. She couldn’t travel like he did, but he hoped she knew he was bringing her with him in his heart.
Caleb cleared his throat, cutting off that sentimental line of thinking. He came to Austin every year for the rodeo and not once had he considered doing anything with Annette’s address. He’d moved on, and he was sure she had, too. Why dwell on the past when he was always rolling full-steam ahead into the future?
Only he’d hit a roadblock, and it was five feet and two inches of neurotic delight. He didn’t know how to square their opposing paths, or if she’d even want to try, but he had to tell her how he felt.
That he was falling in love with her.
Before he did that, before he made any wild, irrevocable decisions about whether he really wanted to change who he’d been for the last six years, he needed to face his past head-on. Draw a line under those old mistakes and that long-ago humiliation. If he offered himself to Jessa his heart had to be whole and free, not tarred by pain and shame that shouldn’t be her responsibility to repair.
He had no phone number, no email address, nothing but a spot on the map. She might not be home—she might’ve moved. But he had to try.
Annette’s home was a single-story, whitewashed-brick house on a cul-de-sac behind a high school. The neighborhood was probably fifty years old, the road shaded by tall oak trees. Caleb parked beside Annette’s new-looking mailbox, adjusted his hat on his head, and made the short walk up the clean flagstones to her freshly painted front door.
He pressed the doorbell and took two steps back, his heart pounding faster in that quiet, suburban spot than it ever had in the bucking chute.
A dog barked inside, and Caleb thought he heard the playful screech of a toddler. A second later the door opened a crack, and then widened all the way.
“Caleb?”
The word was breathless and light with disbelief. He gave her what he meant to be a friendly, unthreatening smile, and for a beat they stood in silence, sizing each other up.
She’d changed so much, he wasn’t sure he would’ve recognized her if they’d bumped into each other on the street. Her long, blond hair was cropped to a wavy bob, and the round, girlish face he remembered beneath her wedding-day veil had thinned, its shadows and angles accentuated by artful makeup. She wore the tight jeans and low-necked top that their pastor had frequently railed against, and her left hand sported a modest diamond and a gold wedding band .
Was he so different, too? Yeah, he supposed he was.
“Hi, Annette. I don’t mean to disturb you—I was local and thought I’d stop by.”
“But you—I didn’t—I’m sorry, you took me by surprise. Hold on a second.”
She leaned into the house and asked someone to watch the baby for a minute. Then she reappeared, emerging barefoot onto the front step and closing the door behind her.
She crossed her arms, regarding him warily. “Why are you here?”
He shrugged, his good intentions slipping as he considered how random and intrusive this visit might seem. “Closure, I guess.”
“We haven’t spoken in almost seven years, what more closure do you need?”
“You’ve clearly moved on, and I’m glad to see that,” he said as kindly as he could. “I haven’t, not all the way—but I want to.”
She exhaled impatiently. “And what do you want me to do about that?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I don’t blame you, and you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to say goodbye and apologize for anything I did wrong.”
Her expression softened, her hands dropping to her sides. “It wasn’t your fault, Caleb—I tried to tell you that in my letter. We were both victims of our parents’ choices. I hope you don’t think I’ve been mad at you, or ever thought badly of you, because I haven’t, not for one second out of all these years.”
He smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I needed to hear that, but apparently, I did.”
“Good. And I’m happy to see you got out of there.”
“I left not long after you did. Joined the rodeo circuit. Been traveling the country and riding bulls ever since.”
She laughed more brightly than she ever had during their short marriage. “Now that is a far cry from the homebody farm boy I knew who started to sweat every time they rearranged the aisles at Food City. Found your appetite for adventure, huh?”
“Something like that. You doing good out here?”
“Real good, thank you. Went to school, got my nursing degree. Got married a couple years ago and had our son last summer.”
“Congratulations on everything. I bet you’re a great mama.”
“I try,” she said, her cheeks pinking. “How about you? Met another Mrs. Ross yet?”
“Actually—”
“Annette, I can’t find the wipes.” A silver-haired woman appeared in the doorway, and the way she scanned him from head to toe gave him the distinct impression she knew exactly where the wipes were and wanted a look at the stranger loitering outside .
“They should be on the changing table. Viv, this is an old friend of my sister’s, from Tennessee. He was in the area and thought he’d say hi. Caleb, this is my mother-in-law, Viv.”
“Ma’am.” He removed his hat and held it against his stomach, hoping she hadn’t noticed his quizzical glance at his ex-wife.
“Nice to meet you,” she said in a tone that suggested it was not. “Don’t you want to come in?”
“He can’t stay, unfortunately—we were just catching up. I’ll be back in a second.”
Viv moved back inside. Annette pulled the door shut.
“It was good to see you again, but you have to go,” she whispered, looking frantic. “My husband doesn’t know I was married before.”
Whatever peace he’d found in this encounter shattered with the force of a wrecking ball hitting a window. “Are you serious?”
“I know I should tell him, I just—I don’t want him to see me the way I was. Weak, submissive, so easily led.”
“But if he loves you, surely he won’t care about any of that. He’d rather know the truth.”
“I don’t intend to find out. That’s an ugly, embarrassing, shameful part of my past that I’ve locked away and tried to forget. You should try to forget, too.”
He opened his mouth to reply but she threw her arms around him in a brief hug, feathered a farewell kiss on his cheek, and murmured, “Bye, Caleb.” Then she slammed into the house, the door rattling on its hinges.
Caleb stared at the place his ex-wife had just vacated, paralyzed by shock and disbelief. Then he saw a curtain twitch in one of the front windows so he hurried to his truck, started the engine, and pulled out of the cul-de-sac.
He’d screwed up his own life plenty. No need to ruin hers along the way.
“Personally, I think the characterization could use some work, and the choreography borders on derivative in a few places, but maybe I can help push her in the right direction. If I get the part,” Jessa added.
“You will,” Caleb told her confidently. They were halfway between Austin and Last Stand and Jessa had spent the whole drive chattering happily about Kat and the ballet. He’d never seen her so animated, and he’d done his best to shelve his encounter with Annette and listen.
“It’ll be good for me to step into a soloist role, too. I danced with a more prestigious company than the other people she’s cast, but I was only ever in the corps, so in terms of actual experience—oh, this is the spot I told you about. Take this next exit.”
He narrowed his eyes at the blue exit sign, where the less-faded square at the top suggested the label for whatever amenity lay beyond the highway had been peeled off .
“Looks like whatever used to be here isn’t anymore.”
“It’s fine. I’ll show you.”
He turned off, following the long, winding strip of road through lush farmland and nothing else, the hustle of the highway feeling more and more remote as he drove. A grove of trees appeared on the right and Jessa sat up beside him, pointing to the empty shell of a defunct gas station. The pumps had been removed and weeds climbed through holes in the asphalt forecourt. An empty frame towered above the squat, shuttered building, its sign long gone.
This was the last place he expected Jessa Star to want to visit—and he loved it.
“That’s it, there. Circle around to the back.”
He followed her instructions, realizing as he did that the gas station was at the top of a slope, and a break in the trees behind it created a shielded spot with an epic view of green, rolling hills unmarred by more than a faraway cluster of cows.
He parked, rolled down the windows to catch the breeze, and turned off the engine. “Fair enough, this is pretty awesome. How did you find it?”
“I haven’t actually been here before,” she admitted. “But I know my sister, Amy, comes here sometimes for her liaisons .” She emphasized the last word.
“Is that why we’re here? For a liaison?”
“Maybe. Switch seats with me.”
“You said you can’t drive stick.”
“Just do it.”
They shuffled in the snug cab, and as soon as they’d settled into each other’s seats Jessa shifted again, climbing across to straddle his lap.
“Howdy,” he murmured with a smile, his hands sliding to her hips.
“Thank you for everything you did for me today. Cheering me up, talking me down. I couldn’t have gotten through any of it if you hadn’t been there. I wouldn’t have come at all.”
As she talked, she unzipped his jeans and reached inside, her soft, cool hand instantly bringing his cock to life.
“It’s funny, when I used to think about us in Hawaii, I remembered you as this free, reckless guy who wouldn’t know a consequence if it slapped him in the face. But all you’ve done since you’ve been in Last Stand is keep me steady. Loosen me up, sure, but also pin me down when I start to spiral and fret and talk myself out of what’ll make me happy.”
“Uh huh.” He knew what she was telling him was important, that he should be storing up everything she said, but damn if it wasn’t hard to focus with those fairy fingers of hers working him up and down.
“I know you have to leave at the end of this week, and I know our lives are headed in two different directions. I just want you to know how special you are, and I hope you find someone who sees that—if that’s what you want. ”
He didn’t—he wanted her. He wanted her stupid flower soaps and her color-coded closet and her alphabetized pantry. He wanted her chiding smile, her reluctant laugh, that flickering spirit he coaxed into a crackling flame, hot and high and so bright with joy it made him squint.
But did she want him?
In that moment he didn’t care. He pushed the cotton dress she’d changed into up around her waist, dragged her panties down over her thighs, and slid his hand between her legs, his groan matching hers as his fingertips came away wet and glistening. While he fumbled in the glove compartment for the strip of condoms he’d stashed there, she shoved his jeans and boxers to his knees. Jessa took off his hat and kissed the top of his head while he rolled on the latex, her fingers buried in his hair. His heart pounded and his cock throbbed but he finally got it on and then he guided her into place, his whole body shuddering with pleasure as she enclosed him in her sweet, warm heat.
As usual, that first moment of connection with Jessa forced Caleb to hold back his orgasm with a white-knuckled grip. She was beautiful and perfect and if only his parents knew that this was the only time he prayed, the only situation that drove him to beg for restraint from the God they’d threatened him with his whole life.
He didn’t believe in any of that anymore. He didn’t believe in their rules and prohibitions and gloomy predictions. Didn’t believe that joy was dangerous or that pain was righteous. Maybe he wasn’t always happy on his own, moving fast, looking forward, but he believed he could be.
With Jessa, he would be. He believed in her. He believed in them.
But she needed to believe in him, too.
She bucked against him, her gaze searching for his, and he touched her cheek and thrust into her, and when she clenched around him, he took flight right along with her, the two of them soaring hand in hand into the scalding, brilliant sun.
Ten minutes later, their clothes reordered and their heart rates slowing, she was limp in his lap with her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed to the view she’d brought him out here to enjoy.
“What did you do while you were waiting for me this afternoon?”
“Hm?” It took him a second to ascend from the fuzzy, drowsy stupor he’d sunk into.
“Did you find somewhere good for lunch? I should know Austin better considering it’s basically around the corner in Texas terms, but it’s changed so much since I was in high school.”
“Found a sandwich place near the theater. It was okay. Expensive, though. Then I checked in on someone I know. Actually…” He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t lie to her, outright or by omission. “I visited my ex-wife, Annette. She lives on the Eastside. ”
Jessa shot upright. “Really? Did she know you were coming?”
“No. Neither did I, until I was there. I’ve had her address for a while, and been through Austin at least yearly for the rodeo, but I never thought about looking her up until now.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Felt like the right time.”
Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t tell her the whole truth—not yet, anyway.
“How was it?” she asked carefully.
“Good, for the most part. She seems happy. She’s married, has a little boy.” He shifted beneath her. “She hasn’t told her husband about us. About me.”
“You specifically, or—”
“That she was married before.”
Jessa’s eyes rounded. “That’s a big secret to keep in a marriage.”
“Almost as big as a marriage itself.”
That came out sharper than he intended, and he regretted it as Jessa stiffened in his lap.
“You want me to tell my sisters we’re married.”
“Not unless you want to.”
Because that’s what he really wanted—for her to want to lay claim to him. For her to hold him in place and refuse to let him go. To make the choice he’d been struggling with for weeks so he didn’t have to.
“I just don’t see the point. We’ll be divorced soon, and you’re leaving this weekend. You are, aren’t you? Leaving?”
Here was his chance. Her brows were knit, her fingers laced and tight, an anxious posture he’d seen so often this last month, only today it was different. It wasn’t worry or stress that hunched her shoulders and caught her lip between her teeth.
It was hope.
He wished that was enough. It would’ve been before he met her, back when he leapt before he looked and plunged into any adventure that crossed his path—like marrying a ballerina in Hawaii.
But he was more cautious now, chose transience deliberately rather than spontaneously, and took risks because they scared him less than commitment. His life looked the same, but his reasons were different. She’d changed him, and he was terrified to let it happen again unless they changed together.
He was Annette’s dirty little secret. He wouldn’t be Jessa’s, too.
“Yes,” he said firmly, as much for his benefit as hers. “I’m leaving.”
She tried, but she couldn’t hide the flash of despair that streaked across her eyes. He watched her intently, willing her to ask what it would take for him to stay.
Waiting for her to need him more than whatever she thought loving him would cost.
She touched his face, kissed his forehead. And broke his already tender, stitched-together heart when she said, “I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll be fine.” He dredged up his old, flimsy, carefree smile. He hadn’t needed it in weeks, and it felt wrong on his face, wooden and ill-fitting, but he’d have to get accustomed to it again. He’d have to rev up his engine and go back to finding happiness in freedom and flexibility, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to find it with Jessa.
He shuffled out from under her and back into the driver’s seat, realigning his hands on the steering wheel, recovering his grip on his whole damn life.
If Jessa sensed his hurt or his disappointment, or felt any of the same herself, she gave no sign. She buckled her seat belt and stared out the window as he wound back around to the highway, merged on, and got up to speed. He tried to relish the road rolling beneath the tires, the exhilaration of departure, the enticement of change.
He did everything he could to forget that momentary, already-gone bliss of standing still.
Of standing beside her.