Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Jeff
Devon is sprawled out on my bed like a starfish. A starfish who sounds like she has seawater stuck in her lungs.
Despite the awful knot in my gut from the news my mother just gave me, being back in my room feels exactly as it should.
Right. Like chicken noodle soup in a mug on a sick day.
And it feels even more complete with the gorgeous snoring creature taking up all the room in my bed.
She fits here, amongst my dusty basketball trophies and posters of Kelly Kapowski—which makes her explode into giggles every time she looks at it.
I sit down on the edge of the bed as softly as I can, but she stirs and flings an arm over her head.
Jenny and Sammy are still fast asleep, my mother still downstairs at the table covered in unpaid bills and lists of needed items. We spent an hour in the pre-dawn light pouring over the numbers, trying to figure out how to prevent what my mother tells me is inevitable.
“J.J. The therapy center is outdated. We need equipment and some of the horses need to retire. I refuse to take the money you have yet to even make. We’re at the tipping point. It’s sell the farm and give up the business or lose the house.”
The business is her passion. And the house? The house is as much a part of this family as Jenny or I.
We argued for what felt like an eternity after that, but all I got out of her was the promise that she’d hear me out after my interview tomorrow. The woman is stubborn, no doubt, but her heart is in the right place.
I’m exhausted and the day has not begun.
I let out a breath and slide Devon’s bad foot into my lap then softly press my fingers below her calf.
I saw her limping yesterday, when she went to brush her teeth before bed.
She refuses to complain or admit it, but I know the travel has put some strain on her Achilles.
I run my thumb gently along the tendon and find the small knot in her muscle near her ankle, she groans.
“I’m gonna kick you in the face again,” she says thickly.
I laugh.
“You need to get this knot out or it’s going to get worse.”
“Are we doing this again? You need to sleep.” She rubs at her eyes and then blinks a few times and focuses on me.
“Where would you like me to sleep?”
She looks around the bed, notices that she’s covering every square inch, then smiles to herself.
“I just wanted to touch all of it,” she says, sliding her foot off my lap and leaning up against the wooden headboard. “Every little section of where teenage Jeff used to make love to himself while looking at Kelly Kapowski.”
“Are you jealous? Because I can take her down.” I stand and start to walk over to the poster.
“No!”
My fingers slide beneath the corner of the smooth paper. I lift a brow.
“You want her to stay?” I ask.
She nods. “You can’t change a thing in here. It’s like a shrine. To Little Jeff.”
“Are you calling my penis Little Jeff?”
The laughter pops out of her like a cork. “I mean Young Jeff,” she corrects.
I slide back into the bed next to her and pull her alongside of me so that we are laying face to face.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t want to have to spend all day in bed with you proving you wrong about that,” I say, running my hand down her side over her hip.
She makes a soft sound as I lower my lips over hers.
“Jeff,” she whispers into my mouth.
“Hmm?”
I kiss along her chin. Then down her neck. She arches into me and I grab her perfect ass and keep her there.
“I heard you and your mom talking this morning. Is everything ok?”
I let my hand slide back up to a more decent place to rest as I pull back and look down into her eyes.
“The therapy center is bringing in less and less every year. It doesn’t help that Donna pretends to forget to charge some of the families who can’t handle the payments,” I explain.
“Will they have to move? This place—it’s magic. Sammy is so happy here.”
I lift her chin toward me. Two little lines are etched between her brows. I run my thumb over each of them, but they stay. Persistent little worries. “It’ll be ok.”
She shakes her head a little and smiles. “I’m supposed to be comforting you and here you are trying to soothe me. Why are you so—you?”
“Years of therapy?”
She laughs, then realizes there’s truth in my words. There’s no judgment. No surprise really, either. In fact, the set of her lips and small breath she releases tells me that what I’m telling her makes perfect sense. I kiss the tip of her nose.
“I need to tell you something,” she says against my chin, tilting her head back so I can have an unobstructed view of her full mouth.
“I’m listening.”
She puts her hands around my face, wraps her fingers in my hair and pulls me back an inch, away from her, forces me to be still. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes so wide I could dive into them.
“I’m in love with your mom’s meatballs,” she says and I let out the breath stuck in my throat. She smiles. “And also you. I’m in love with you. I tried really hard not to be. But my dumdum heart won’t listen.”
My mouth fills with words. All the words.
Too many to sort through as they use my tongue as a trampoline, all bouncing around making chaos.
I focus on the way the gold in her eyes starts to swim as she blinks hard and fast. I open my mouth to speak.
Close it again. She’s so beautiful. So soft and still so strong.
She’s just jumped off a cliff—broken all of her rules—with nothing but the hope that I’ll catch her.
“Your heart is a genius,” I say, and the smile she gives me makes me want to say more. To say everything. There’s too much to tell her. So much she needs to know. I’ll start with the good, because there is so much good. Then tell her the rest. We’ll make it work.
“I’ve loved you since—”
Her lips crush against mine and she steals the breath from my lungs. She kisses me with so much urgency I have no choice but to roll her over so she’s on top of me—give in to every ounce of her iron strong will. Not that I’m complaining.
When her mouth finally leaves mine, I can barely think let alone speak.
“Should we go out to the barn?” I manage.
“And miss my chance to claim you with Miss Bayside watching? Hell no.”
She giggles then looks down at me with a crooked smile and a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Tell Little Jeff we are gonna break rule twelve.”
I don’t need to. He already knows.