The Davis Years (Indigo) (16 page)

He wanted to kiss the lips that sung those out-of-tune notes. When he heard Tara coming from her room, he’d almost been angry. He’d had to remind himself that Tara wasn’t interrupting anything. That Tara was the one he was there for. She was the one he wanted. After all, Davis Hill couldn’t be seen with the biggest loser at Derring High. So he’d kissed Tara and continued to ruin his life by making the wrong choices.

Now, he heard the words that haunted him in his dreams. Words that had made it sink in that he was too late even though he’d finally realized he loved her too much to want to hide it from anybody anymore and didn’t want to try. He’d finally convinced her to come over to his house after school one day near the end of the year and talk. It’d happened a little while before she’d left town. The words that were stamped across his battered heart were never too far from his mind’s ear:

“I wish there was something I could do to keep you,” he’d said.

“There was,” Jemma said, staring at him from across the kitchen table. “Back when I needed you most.”

“That’s not fair.”

“None of this is. You think I wanted things to be this way? You made this necessary. All I wanted was you, Davis. All I wanted was you.”

And then. Even worse. The memory of what had followed.

“So there’s nothing I can say? Nothing I can do to make this right?”

“I wish there was.”

“What if I swore on my life to never hurt you again? To come home from Pennsylvania or Charlottesville every weekend possible? To always love—”

“Stop.”

“You’re taking the life out of me right now. You can at least listen to the words that torture me every minute.”

“No. Because you weren’t there when I fell apart. My friends had to suffer through that. And I won’t make them suffer again. That’s why it’s best if I go.”

“You wouldn’t stay? Not even for me?”

“Why would I? You’re not good for me—you’re not enough for me.”

Davis’s face froze. Then, he slumped forward against the table, burying his head in his hands. “You can really just give up?”

“You gave up a long time ago. We have to live with that now.”

And then she was gone.

Davis sighed, the memory having drained him emotionally, as it did every time he gave over to it.

Whenever he visited those memories, he always wanted to hold her close. Now, with her lying next to him in the car, he could. He tightened his arm around her. She stirred in her sleep and slung an arm low around his waist without ever waking. He kept absolutely still for a moment, afraid of doing anything to ruin the moment.

How would he ever be able to let her go again? He took every moment he could spare from looking at the road to look down at her head, curled into his side. He shook his head. There wasn’t enough time left with her—there never would be. Biting his lip, he forced himself to concentrate on the road. He wouldn’t fall apart and ruin the few moments he had left with her.

***

They reached the lake house a little before sunset. The house was close to the lake. A dock led from the backyard and into the water. They stood near the dock and watched the orange-red glow of the sun’s dying rays skimming across the surface of the lake. A couple of canoes bobbed in the water near the dock.

“This is gorgeous,” Jemma breathed, letting Davis take her hand.

Davis stepped in front of her, pushed her hair back, and left his hands framing her face. “This is the kind of moment I’ve been dreaming about, Jemma. For six years. And now that I have it . . . I can’t stand the thought of anything taking it away.”

Jemma wouldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t fair for him to say that. He knew what this was supposed to be. A simple time of not thinking. No past. No future. But how could she get mad at him when she knew she’d asked the impossible when she asked for that? She exhaled and her breath whistled through her teeth as she searched her brain for a response, carefully ignoring her heart. “That little grocery store back up the road is going to close soon. We should get going if we’re going to get some things for dinner.”

“Yeah. I’ll—uh, bring in the bags before we go,” Davis said, looking away from her. He’d been acting like that ever since they’d arrived. Strange.

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, heading for the car.

She followed him with her eyes for a moment and then headed for the front door.

She looked around the house while she waited for Davis to bring in the bags. The downstairs consisted of a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room. It was simple, but airy and spacious. And full of memories of summers and weekends with the Bradens.

She wandered upstairs to check out the bedrooms. There were three. She went into the master bedroom and looked around. The room was warm and dark. The color scheme was burgundy and cream. She smiled, hugging herself and inhaling the faint scent of lavender potpourri. Mrs. Braden was a potpourri fanatic and had probably left some after her last trip to the lake house.

Moving over to the bed, she traced her fingers over the intricate patterns on the wine and gold-colored duvet. Jemma imagined candles throwing shadows onto the dark walls while she and Davis lay in tangles on that bed. She heard Davis walk into the room, but she didn’t turn around. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She sank back against his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head.

“This feels almost too perfect,” she murmured.

“This is the nicest thing I’ve ever felt. And I don’t want to stop feeling it,” Davis said, weaving his fingers through hers. “I’m tired of things being ruined for us.”

She started to pull away, but Davis didn’t let go of her. She sank back against him. “You know what I said about food earlier? I’m starving. We better get going.”

“Okay. You know, I was thinking we could make chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes. Maybe have some greens with it.” His lips grazed the back of her neck and a delicious shiver ran down her spine.

“You know what I like.” She turned in his arms and ran her hands down his arms, stopping at his elbows.

He bent his head, bringing his lips close to her ear. “What I don’t know, I’m dying to learn.”

She reminded herself that love—even when it existed, which was rare in her experience—couldn’t be trusted. Love was blind, all right. Too blind. And it blindly led people into making bad decisions. It had certainly led Lynette into more than one, the biggest one being Smooth.

Jemma kissed him because it felt so good and because she was afraid of talking at that moment. She forgot to want anything else. His mouth on hers was the only thing she had left in the world. When he tried to pull back, she kissed him harder.

Brady’s Country Store was only a few miles down the road from the lake house. Jemma had been there before with the Bradens when Jemma had come with them to the lake house, which hadn’t been all that often with Lynette breathing down her neck. Those were some of the best memories Jemma had. Visiting them made her both look forward to and dread her talk with Emily Rose the next day. She wanted things fixed between them, but was afraid it wouldn’t happen.

From the outside, Brady’s looked like an old country house. It was a wooden structure painted dark red with a matching peaked roof. In the front were several picture windows. One was missing its screen. The white wooden door was swung open and the screen door had an “open” sign on it as well as one advertising Brady’s hours.

Jemma and Davis walked into the cool, dimly lit store. Several ceiling fans rotated slowly, circulating air throughout the building. There were more fans on the floor near the front of the store. Coolness that could only come from air conditioning still hung in the air as if someone had recently turned off the A/C in anticipation of the sweet, cool evening air they were experiencing.

They walked down the aisles, holding hands. Davis carried a red plastic shopping basket. He let her hand go only to put things in the basket.

“Gross,” Jemma said as he threw a jar of olives into the basket.

Davis grinned and threw in another jar.

She took both jars out and put them back on the shelf. He set the basket on the floor and tickled her until she was laughing so hard that the few people in the store with them turned and stared over the short rows of shelving.

“Jerk.” She was laughing as she said it and playfully punched him in the chest.

He stumbled backwards, pretending her punch had more force than it did. “You better not forget about me when you go to the far and distant sunny lands,” Davis said. He then began singing “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds.

Jemma laughed. “Of course I won’t. You never forget your first—well, whatever you were to me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t your first love?”

Jemma turned her attention to the shelves in front of them, picking up jars and putting them back without reading the labels. She didn’t like the direction in which the conversation was going. “I don’t think it counts if only one person’s in love.”

“What? I do love you. I did then, too.”

She stepped away from the hand he put on her shoulder. Her heart beat a little faster at his telling her he loved her. She wouldn’t acknowledge it, though. She’d expected he’d say something like that. She’d been preparing herself for it. She refused to talk about love in the present tense. She tried to keep her tone light when she said, “Right. You told me you loved me after everything was wrecked. Once it was too late.”

“Okay. So things were a little rocky between us. And maybe a little sketchy, too. I’ll give you that. I still believe we had love.”

“Since when does making out in your car in an abandoned parking lot and keeping any interaction between us a huge secret because you were embarrassed about me qualify as love?”

“Yeah. I screwed up, but I was never embarrassed to be with you.” Davis picked up the basket and looked into it, avoiding her gaze.

“Liar.”

“Okay, but I got over it in a big way and I wanted to tell everyone I loved you—”

“Once it was too late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunate.” He looked up at her. “For both of us.”

He put the basket down again and took her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he held on and kissed her fingers one by one.

She bit her lip and forced herself not to say the things she wanted to say. Saying them could have ruined everything. There hadn’t been a time that mattered when she hadn’t loved Davis Hill. But it’d always been a hard love. He’d hurt her so much both intentionally and unintentionally. Sure, he said it was real and true now, but what was ever really true? Especially when it came to love.

Losing her whole family in a matter of weeks and having Lynette as a mother hadn’t done much for her faith in love or it being able to overcome all. Even if he did really love her. Maybe the kind of love that Michael had talked about, and what he and Emily Rose had, could only happen for people who didn’t share a painful past.

“What is it?” He teased her earlobe with his lips, then nearly melted her with kisses.

“Thinking about how much I want you.”

“Well, I’m right here.” Davis nuzzled his face against her neck.

She put her hand behind his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly, thoughtfully. As if trying to memorize every place his tongue touched. When he finally pulled back, she was still reaching for his lips.

“What else do we need? Let’s hurry so we can get back to the house.” She grabbed the list from him and hurried to the next aisle.

***

Davis put an arm around her waist and brought a spoon to her mouth at the same time. “This better?”

She tasted the gravy that she’d told him earlier needed more pepper. “Perfect.”

He kissed her neck before moving back across the kitchen to the stove. She followed him with her eyes, wanting more than gravy.

“When did you learn to cook?”

“Long time ago,” Davis called over his shoulder. “Living with my dad. It was either that or we were gonna both starve to death.”

“This man is full of secrets,” Jemma said, coating the steak in the flour mixture she’d made, getting it ready to fry.

He turned toward her and they locked eyes. It was funny how memories came back. The stuff her mind pulled out of what happened in the past. At that moment, all she could remember was the night Davis had first kissed her all those years before. And how perfect that kiss had been. All she’d wanted that night was for Davis to be her husband one day.

No use dwelling on the past. She’d been a stupid, naïve girl back then. Traitorous memories. She turned back to her work, concentrating on fixing their steaks so she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.

After dinner, Jemma washed dishes while Davis dried.

“That was really good,” she said.

“We make a good team.” Davis took a plate from her and moved closer, pressing his hip to hers. In fact, he was so close that she barely had enough room to move the sponge over the dishes, but she wasn’t complaining.