Chapter Twenty-One
MEET THE JONESES
LAKE
Drugs. Yep, that’s all I needed to get some hardcore sleep. I woke to a tray in front of me with a cup of tea, a pink daisy, and a notecard.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I smiled. Maybe it was the drugs or maybe it was just time, but in that moment, I remembered.
Cage looked down, scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah, my dad wasn’t a collector or any sort of packrat, but my parents were divorced.
I’m his only child and my grandparents live in Portland, so I guess it’s my responsibility to decide what to do with everything.
It’s all mine now, including the house. The funny part? I don’t want any of it.”
“My brother’s fiancée died a year ago. Her stuff still hangs in his closet.
It’s just stuff, but there has to be a finality to get rid of it.
I bet you’ll feel it when the last thing is removed from here and someone else buys the place.
The ‘stuff’ is the epilogue. The story is over, but part of it lives on like a ghost for just a few more pages.
What’s left at the end of the epilogue?”
“Nothing,” he replied.
I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“And how would you look at it?”
“I’m not sure yet. My boyfriend died in the accident that took my leg.
When I came out of my coma, the funeral was over, his parents had cleaned out his apartment, and some other person lived there.
I turned the page after the final chapter only to find no epilogue.
The author of my life sucker punched me. ”
“Some would say the author of your life is God.”
“And I’d agree. But no amount of faith can truly comfort a grieving heart that can’t make sense of such tragedy. I didn’t lose my faith, but I did feel like God sucker punched me. No epilogue. But he’s God, so I’ll probably forgive him some day.”
Cage chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll be grateful.”
We flirted. I tried to pretend my brother wasn’t waiting for me in the car, but before I walked out the door, I made one last reference to the story of life.
“Cage?”
He turned. “Yes?”
“You want to know what comes after the epilogue?”
“What?”
“A new book filled with endless possibilities.”
Cage peeked around the corner, blowing the swirling steam from his cup of coffee. “Good morning.”
I pressed my hand gently to my chest. Something as imperfectly perfect as our journey to that point passed between us without a word. I saw the recognition in his eyes. He knew I remembered … and he smiled.
“I’m your new book. I’m your endless possibilities,” I whispered with the last bit of breath I had left after that realization knocked it from my chest, leaving my heart swelling with so much love.
“You are.”
I cleared my throat, mustering something resembling an actual voice. “Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?” He sat on the edge of my bed.
“My heart beating in your hands.”
Cage looked at me, more like through me. After a few moments … he nodded.
That man—the one of my dreams. He flew to Beijing to kiss me. Then he traveled to Los Angeles to really see me for the first time. My mom used to tell me to stop wishing my life away because the beginning and end were separated by nothing more than a blink. With Cage, I refused to blink.
“I can carry you.”
I laughed as the driver pulled up in front of the hotel.
“I can use the crutches. I need to get used to them anyway. I’m not going to be able to use my prosthetic legs until the burns on my leg heal a little bit more, at least until the blisters heal.
” I nodded toward his door. “Fans in L.A. Impressive.”
Cage sighed. “Photographers. Not fans. Maybe there’s a back entrance.”
“Why? You embarrassed to be seen with me?” I perked a brow.
He smirked. “For the love of God, have you even looked in a mirror?”
I laughed. “I’m sure they’ll spin it. Lake Jones, girlfriend to Minnesota’s quarterback, suffered severe burns and loss of a limb in a meth lab explosion.”
“Flint would love that. Come on, crispy.” Cage hopped out and walked around to my side, opening my door while the two guys with cameras flashed a few shots.
“Cage, what happened to your girlfriend?” one of them asked.
I eased out as Cage held my crutches out for me.
“Nothing.” He winked at the photographer with a cheeky grin. “Why do you ask?”
He could have ignored the photographer’s question or said it was none of their business.
I grinned when Cage’s smiling face focused back on me.
“Got it?”
I nodded, smiling through the pain while the cameras clicked again and again.
“What brings you to L.A.?” the same photographer asked me.
“Sex on the beach.”
Cage adjusted his baseball cap low on his face, either to hide his amusement or embarrassment. I couldn’t tell.
“Sex on the beach?” he asked after we left the reporters behind.
I shrugged as the elevator took us to the fourth floor. “It’s a better headline than the meth lab scenario.”
“Have you had sex on the beach?” he asked.
“Only in a shot glass. You?”
“No comment.”
“What was her name? Bambi? Summer? Fantasia? I have it on good authority that sand is not genitalia-friendly. So hopefully you didn’t drag your elephant trunk through the sand before slipping it into her delicate clamshell.”
He fisted his hand at his mouth, and shook his head as the laughter he refused to share shook the rest of his body. “Only you … only you …”
Keeping my eyes trained to the elevator doors as they opened, a grin grew along my face. “Come on, Monaghan. No sense talking sex until you can look at me without grimacing.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you …” My ears began to ring and my vision blurred with spots as the hallway seemed to move.
“Lake!” He caught me just as the light-headedness beckoned me to the floor.
“Not … feeling so … well. Weak.” I closed my eyes as the stars in my vision made me nauseous.
“Stay with me. Which room, baby?”
I tried to focus on my breathing to keep from completely passing out. “412,” I whispered.
“Is the key in your bag?”
“Uh huh.”
“Everything okay?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
I was too weak to even open my eyes.
“Could be better. Would you mind looking in this bag for our room key?”
“Sure.” It was a lady’s voice. That much registered. “Here it is. Which room?”
“412,” Cage answered.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”
“Nope. We’re good. Just a touch of sun poisoning. She’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“Take care.”
The door shut.
“Lake?”
“Uh huh?”
“I’m going to lay you down.”
“K.”
Riding the edge of blacking out was a miserably uncontrollable feeling.
I jumped as he pressed a cold washcloth to my forehead.
“Sorry. I don’t want to hurt your burn, baby.”
“F-fine,” I whispered, because the cold really did feel good. I peeked open my eyes.
“Welcome back.” He smirked. “Told ya I should have carried you the whole way.”
All I had to give him was a weak smile, but it was his. He owned all my smiles.
“Feel better?”
I nodded, staring down at the empty plate on my lap, my legs stretched out on the bed, pillows propped up behind my back.
“I felt a little nauseous, so I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.”
“It was painful to watch, like a vulture on the side of the road with a fresh kill. I can’t believe the plate survived.” From the chair by the window, Cage smirked, tapping his fork lightly against his lower lip.
“Has the brash insult thing worked for you in the past with … Bambi, Summer, Fantasia? I mean, does your brain make a conscious decision between telling a girl she’s sexy and beautiful versus a pig with Dumbo ears?”
He shook his head. “It’s really not for your benefit, it’s for mine.”
I choked on my laugh. “Benefit? Enlighten me. How does insulting me benefit you?”
“It’s my attempt to see you in a different light so my mind doesn’t focus on doing very dirty things to you.”
My jaw dropped.
Cage shrugged, like can’t blame a guy for being honest.
“Sss … so in Beijing you said my ears were big to keep from thinking about doing very dirty things to me?”
“Yes,” he answered diplomatically.
“So you don’t really think I have big ears?”
“I didn’t say I made up shit. I just implied I tried to focus on something less sexy.”
My hands inched toward my ears as they always did when he mentioned them. “Can, I mean … do you think ears can really be sexy?”
“Lake?”
“Huh?” My brow tensed as I covered my ears.
“I love your ears.”
“It’s OK if you don’t. It’s not a deal breaker, right?”
“I love your ears.”
“I’m trying to remember … maybe one of my siblings pulled on them when I was younger. Maybe my mom dragged me to my room by them when I got in trouble.”
“I love your ears.”
“It really shouldn’t matter though … it’s not like you stick your dick in my ears.
Although, have you ever read any books or seen movies where guys say they want to fuck every hole or orifice of a woman’s body?
That would have to include ears and …” I wrinkled my nose.
“Nostrils too. Those guys must have pencil dicks. I think you’d have to have a pencil dick to even say something so ridiculous. ”
I twisted my lips as Cage threw his head back in laughter. “Lucky for me your dick is too big to fit in my nose or my ears. Do you suppose a guy’s spunk dissolves wax or clears sinuses?”
“Stop!” He kept laughing. “You win.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” I smirked and heaved a pillow at his head.
He caught it and hugged it, hiding his shit-eating grin.
“Enough with my ears. Gah! You’re giving me a complex. How would you like it if I pointed out your imperfections to keep from wanting to do very dirty things to you?”
He perked up. “I’m intrigued. So you think about doing very dirty things to me? What tampers your desire? My love handles?”
“You don’t have love handles.”