Middle of Knight (8 page)

“I think you already offered me your daughter.”

“What? I did not.”

“You offered to fix us up.”

“I-I-no … I asked if that’s what you were implying.”

“And if I would have said yes, you were going to give me her phone number with your blessing.”

“I most certainly was not.”

“Why?”

It was a good question.

“That’s what I thought.” His smug smile wasn’t sexy. Really it was, but she didn’t want it to be.

“For your information, my daughter is too young for you.”

Jackson chuckled. “I’m closer to her age than your age.”

“So?”

“So, here we are … on
our
first date. Don’t you think I’m too young for you?”

Yes. Of course she did.

“This isn’t a date. It’s a dog walk.”

“It’s a date.”

Ryn shook her head. “It’s not.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re too young for me. There I said it. Happy now?”

Men like Jackson were put on Earth for one purpose: to rob every ounce of confidence from women like Ryn. They ate it up and saved it for themselves, as if they could possibly need any more. Then they flaunted it to get the attention of the lucky recipients who were Maddie’s age. The twenty-somethings thrived on it.

“I know all my ABCs. I’m potty trained. I chew with my mouth closed, and I require limited supervision.”

Ryn didn’t want to laugh, but she did anyway. “Shut up, now you’re just being stupid.”

“Oh and I can count to one hundred—forward, backward, and even with my eyes shut.”

She sighed. “Have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“Kids?”

“No.”

“So our total time spent together so far in the past week has been five hours, and we might not have anything in common, which would only be compounded by our age difference, and you expect me to believe you are seriously interested in me?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” she huffed, hiding her grin. “I’ll marry you.”

Jackson laughed. It made her want more.

More laughter.

More resplendent smiles.

He held her gaze, lacing his fingers with hers then gently squeezing her hand. That made her want more too.

More of his touch.

More of the happiness that swelled in her heart.

His touch felt like a spell. For a moment she forgot about her age, her physical imperfections, and the fear that held her hostage to a past she could never escape.

They finished their walk in silence. It wasn’t awkward, it was perfect. The most indelible moments are spent in quietude with a worthy companion. Gunner had been that worthy companion for years.

When they reached her front porch, it felt like waking from a dream. Their age difference returned to her thoughts again as all the insecurities she tried to overcome came rushing back. She attempted to release his hand, but he tightened his grip and pulled her to him. He smelled good, really good. Her eyes closed on their own accord as she took a slow inhale, hoping he didn’t notice her trying to smell him.

“Candles,” he said.

Ryn opened her eyes.

“I smell like sex candles.”

She laughed a little. “Sex candles?” Whatever they were, she needed to buy some.

“Yes. Jillian sells them and until just recently she’d been using Woody to transport them.”

Sex candles and then Woody. Maybe she
was
too old. Clearly they didn’t speak the same language.

“Well, sex candles smell good on you.”

He smiled. It was a hungry smile with his tongue wetting his lips.

“You know what else would smell good on me?” he whispered, ducking his head a breath away from her lips.

The enormity of his dominating presence wrecked her ability to conjure coherent thoughts and formulate words to go with them.

“Um … what?” She couldn’t even remember his question. Why were his lips just lingering over hers? It was torturous.

“You.” He touched her lips, just barely.

She felt the very tip of his warm tongue touch her top lip.

“Good night, Ryn.” He strode with extra confidence to his car because he stole hers. He stole everything and left her speechless, standing on the porch with her lips slightly parted, making soft panting noises. Pathetic.

“Night,” she whispered long after he was gone.

“H
ow’s AJ?”

“Still alive.” Jillian shrugged.

Lilith gave her a reprimanding look. “Char’s a mess. She didn’t take it so well.”

“I know. That’s what he said. How could she? It’s messed up. Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents.”

“Is he?”

“Is he what?”

“Going to die.”

Jillian didn’t know the answer to that question. She was too close to the situation to even look at the possibilities with any sort of objectivity.

“Surgery seems too risky. I think they’ve ruled that out. But it’s beginning to affect his vision so he’s agreed to radiation therapy starting next week after his parents and Brooke leave. They’re arriving later today and they go back home on Sunday.”

“Yes¸ Char and I are having coffee. You should join us.”

“Hmm … I’ll see. Brooke and her family are staying with us. Jackson’s not too thrilled, so I may need to be there as a buffer.”

“He doesn’t like Brooke?” Lilith questioned.

“She has kids.”

“He doesn’t like kids?”

“Just his own.”

“He has kids?”

Jillian laughed. “Not yet, but he’s working on it.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“It probably will be, but it’s still in the prologue.”

“And yours and Luke’s?”

“It’s just getting good.” Jillian grinned.

*

Day

“How did killing
Four make you feel?”

Luke was more determined than ever to work through Jessica’s past, lay it to rest, and begin their future. She liked the future part, but lacked motivation to deal with the past since the night they’d had sex. However, he knew it bothered her that they hadn’t had it again after that first time with her bound to her bed—that had been a month earlier. Luke found plenty of excuses and ways to distract her, the dog being the biggest one.

“Why can’t I move in with you?” She sat on his bed with Jones, who wasn’t supposed to be on his bed or any of the furniture.

“Because you’re a slob. Down.” He snapped his fingers at Jones and pointed to the floor.

Jones rested his head on Jessica’s leg in defiance.

“I’m not when I’m at your place.”

“You are.” He gave up on the stubborn—contumacious—dog and continued with his crossword puzzle, staying in the chair by the window. Luke wouldn’t go near her in his bed. It was a bad idea.

“Give me one example.”

“One of your shoes is right there on the floor and the other is in the middle of my hallway. You ‘clean’ my kitchen counter by wiping the crumbs onto the floor. You ‘organize’ your purse by emptying gum wrappers and toothpicks onto my coffee table and leaving them there. After you wash your hands in the bathroom you flick your fingers before grabbing the towel and leave water spots on my mirror. And you’re always taking books from my bookshelf and you never put them back.”

Jessica frowned while petting Jones. “Jeez, I just said
one
.”

He smirked at her pathetic attempt at pouting. She was the world’s worst pouter, and he’d told her as much so many times. Anyone trained to kill could not pout. Period.

“Answer my question.”

She flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “After I killed Four I felt
different
.”

“Different how?

“When he killed Claire it hardened me to the world. I had so much hate for the unfairness of it all. But when I killed him it hardened my feelings toward Jessica Day. She was trained in defense, not revenge. I was trained to think of it like that. We were defenders, like soldiers, not killers. We don’t call soldiers in the military killers, even if they kill.”

“So you were upset with yourself?”

“Disappointed. Separated. In denial. I don’t know, I just no longer knew who I was or who I was supposed to be. Jessica the defender has friends, drinks too much wine, and pursues her career. Jessica the killer just …”

“Just?”

“Waits.”

“Waits for what?”

“Trigger.”

“Who’s Trigger?”

“The one that got away.”

“Matthew Green?”

She nodded.

Luke had to push through his own emotions and leave them behind. Jessica’s lover didn’t want to know any more. He too wanted it to all just disappear. But Dr. Jones owed it to her and he owed it to Luke. He had to make things right.

“You want Matthew Green dead?”

She shook her head then looked over at him with tears in her eyes. He knew she hated those tears. Maybe someday she’d realize the strength in setting them free. Luke felt privileged that she trusted him with her vulnerability—with her tears. The need to go to her and wrap her in his arms pained him. Why? Why couldn’t love heal everything?

“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered, her face scrunched with pain.

“I’ll never hate you.”

“I don’t just want him dead … I want to kill him because he didn’t save my friend.”

Luke couldn’t take that away. No one could take that away. Two voices resided inside her, and she needed that separation to keep a small shred of her sanity. He, however, couldn’t separate the two. He had to love both of them as one for her to have any chance of offering forgiveness and finding acceptance.

“I can see it…” she blinked, releasing the tears “…in your eyes. You wonder what’s wrong with you. You wonder how you could even consider loving someone as awful as me.”

Dr. Jones needed to stay focused and not let his emotions override the progress they were making. But that man—the one who loved her more than a clean mirror, or a tidy coffee table, or oxygen for that matter—told the good doctor to fuck off. Then he stood and went to her.

That man, the one who never felt guilty for loving the woman, he sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, straddling his legs. She hugged him with a fierce intensity.

“You don’t see anything,” he whispered. “You’re so blind because the only thing in my eyes is adoration. God, I love every part of you so much I can’t even think straight. You’re my goddamn miracle and there’s nothing in life more amazing than a miracle.”

Love was not a problem to solve or a choice to make, simply an involuntary feeling that explained human existence. It wasn’t contingent on anything, and everyone was capable of giving and receiving it. Words couldn’t define feelings. Luke didn’t know why he
had
to love her. He just did.

“Show me …” she sat back, looking so vulnerable with her tear-stained cheeks “…show me how much you adore me, Luke.” It wasn’t so much a request as a desperate plea.

They held each other’s gaze for a few silent moments.

“I won’t hurt you,” she promised. “You’re my everything … the life that beats inside my chest.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Do you feel that? Every. Single. One. Is for you.”

He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Yours,” he whispered.

*

Luke became Jessica’s
prodigy of love. He accepted her without judgment, held her in reverence, and trusted her
implicitly.
No one loved like Luke loved. For that, she gave him
everything.

She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it away from his chest.

Pressing her lips to the scar on his shoulder, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—”

She moved her mouth back to his, tasting and savoring him. “Let me … let me be sorry for what I did to you. Okay?”

He nodded then removed her shirt. “I need to see you … all of you.” He smiled while unfastening her bra.

It was a vulnerable smile. Not like the controlled one he used every day with patients or even his family and friends. There was one very special smile that looked like a child who just had all his dreams come true. That was a very private smile for Jessica.

“What if I want more than your heart?” He cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her nipple.