Authors: Jane Lark
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #New Adult, #Contemporary, #General
I Still Love You (4 page)
I wanted more children with him. I wanted his child. I wanted him. I didn’t want to lose him, he was mine. The special person that I’d found. The person who was made for me. I caught his tongue between my teeth, and he pulled it free. A deep rumble of sound in his throat, a mix of humor and lust.
He broke the kiss and leaned to my ear as his rhythm became rougher, “I love you, Rachel Macinlay. That’s the truth.”
I gripped his head and kissed his ear as he breathed hard in my other ear, focusing now on what he was doing. I kissed his cheek, and then his jaw, as he invaded me over and over again, his breath misting as mine became shallow releases of sound.
“Uh.”
“Uh.”
“Uh.” My back bumped against the wall.
“I am going to come, but I want you to come again first,” he ordered in my ear, like I could control it like that.
“Then you better work harder at it.” I laughed in his ear.
“You’re challenging me… ”
Whoa, that had been a bad idea, he pulsed hard into me, and lowered his head to bite me where the pulse beat in my neck, even though my neck was still covered in make-up.
“I know you are dressed as a Zombie but stop trying to eat me. ”
The low pitch of humor in his throat was erotic.
I shut my eyes and just felt what he was telling me with his body. That he loved me… He did love me… and I loved him.
His fingers gripped my butt tighter, like he was playing games, and thinking of other things there was no way I was going to let him get up to out here, but it began spinning up the whorl of sensation inside me. He knew what he was doing… he knew…
“Ahh!” I shouted too loud, as I plunged into orgasm, diving into that river that stole away all thought beyond what was going on in my body. The sensation spun out into my limbs like a riptide as Jason continued, but then he dived into the water about ten strokes after me, breathing hard against my neck, his fingers clawing into the muscle of my ass as he pulsed inside me.
“Shit.” He breathed against my neck. “That made me feel better.”
I laughed. “You do know you’re drunk.”
He laughed. “And of course that is the only reason I might want to have sex with you.”
“I didn’t say that, I just meant, you aren’t the daring one. It’s the alcohol that’s making you daring, and you cannot deny you are a lightweight when you drink.”
“Well maybe a certain person made me daring and I hope now she is not going to tell me off for enjoying what she taught me.”
“I am not telling you off. I like you daring.”
He kissed my lips, withdrew from me, then gently lowered my legs. The skirt of my dress slipped down. He pulled his pants up and did them up, then bent, and in a gentlemanly way, picked my panties up off the floor and held them out for me to step into.
I laughed. “So sweet.”
He slid them up my legs too, and pulled them into place with a deep laugh.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
“Fuck, yes.” His eyes widened—he was definitely getting drunk.
His hand gripped the back of my head and he pressed a firm kiss on my lips. “Come on, we ought to go back in I guess.”
I nodded as he gripped my hand and then pulled me out from around the corner.
“I feel like we are us again. ” he said glancing back at me.
Oh shit… I knew what he meant, I knew why he’d said that, but the defining factor in what had made us behave like this, like we had when we’d first met, was because Saint wasn’t here. I wanted to cry again. I didn’t want to doubt Jason, but I didn’t know how he was going to take it when I told him.
But I had to tell him. It was not going to go away.
He
was not going to go away. The dickhead.
“Wait.” I pulled against his grip. “I have to tell you something.”
He stopped and looked back at me smiling.
I didn’t want to ruin this, the first moment we’d had to feel normal. No. “It’s okay, don’t worry, it can wait.”
Jason
My head was thumping like someone was bashing on a wall to wake me up. Rach had kept telling me I was drinking too much, but it was the first time I’d had a chance to drink like that in months. It had been good just to be able to do what I wanted. I know I’d made the choice to get married and bring up Saint, and I was still all in for that, but I was only twenty-three, we needed some time-out. She was going to have to get that.
“I made you coffee.”
I opened my eyes. Rach was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the shirt I’d taken off last night.
“It’s black. I figured you’d need it black, and I put three spoonful’s of sugar in it.”
I rolled over, my arm coming across my forehead. “What time is it?”
She smiled. “Eleven-thirty. I want to go home soon.”
“Saint’s okay?” I knew she must have called Mom. She’d called Mom after we’d had sex outside just to double-check he was okay. He’d been okay.
“Yeah. But I want to get back. The only people left here are those girls who still fancy you.”
Oh my God. “Rach.” I was too hung-over to handle jealousy and have to start doling out reassurance when she had no need to worry.
I feel like you’re falling out of love with me…
When she’d said that, she’d kicked me in the chest. I was struggling right now, I mean we’d gotten together and made a lifetime commitment in a matter of weeks, and then Saint had come along within six months, and then she’d ended up in hospital, it was a lot to get my head around. But I loved her. I didn’t want her to feel uncertain about that. I just wanted her to be happy, and then if she was happy I could feel happy.
“There’s something I need to tell you. Will you sit up?”
God, she sounded all serious. Serious conversations weren’t good with a hangover.
I slid up the bed and the sheet and the comforter slid down to my belly, she glanced at my chest. We hadn’t just had sex outside last night, we’d had it twice in bed. We’d gone to bed when the party was still in full swing, claiming that us parents needed our sleep, that had been a complete lie, we had been escaping to get some alone sex-time. I think some of the guys may have guessed, but the girls were fooled.
I stuck a pillow behind my back and picked up my coffee. She stared at me for a minute then went for my jugular. “I had a letter from the solicitor, he’s heard from Declan.” She annihilated my newly found sense of calm with one blow to the gut.
I made a disparaging face, I hated that guy. “And.”
“He wants custody.”
“What the fuck. He didn’t even want you to have Saint. He signed the statement saying he wanted nothing to do with Saint.”
“That’s not legally binding.”
I thrust my coffee down on the side, spilling some of it. I was ready to fight but there was no one to fight with. “Well, what did the solicitor say, is he writing back to tell him to fuck off?”
“No. He can’t, it’s gone to the courts, Declan’s claiming I’m an unfit mother. He knows I was in hospital. He knows what I did. ”
“How?”
“He paid for my medical policy, remember. ”
“Oh shit, Rach.”
“He’s got access to all my records somehow.”
“Then we will be suing that fucking hospital as well.”
“He bribes people, it wasn’t legitimate. You know what he’s like. But now he has the information.”
“Oh shit.”
Tears started streaming down her face.
“Come here.” I opened up my arms to her, she crawled across the bed and came into them. “Hang on a minute.” My fingers gripped her chin and tipped her face up, before she could lay against my chest. “How long have you known? When did you get the letter?” We weren’t at home, so it wasn’t today.
“The day before yesterday.”
“And you have been stewing on this since then. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to spoil Halloween.”
“But it isn’t good for your brain to be holding onto stuff like that alone.”
She sighed.
I shook my head at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you kept going on about needing a break from Saint, and you didn’t sign up for this, I—”
“I don’t want to be without him, he’s mine as much as yours. That kid is my life too. God, last night when he laughed… Wow… I can’t tell you what that felt like. We are going home today and we’re going to get that on film.”
A smile broke her lips.
“I know your heads screwed up, Rach, I knew what I was getting into—”
“No you didn’t. I didn’t tell you until after we were married.”
“I knew. You’d told me about Saint, you told me about the dickhead who’d fathered him, and okay, you never said you had bipolar, but I knew you had mood swings of a bionic standard, Rach. I knew what I was getting into. So, okay, your head is screwed up worse than bad right now and I’m letting you off with a little jealousy and bit of loss of self-worth, and maybe some self-pity and a touch of suspicion. But whatever your head is telling you Rachel, the truth is, I love you and I love Saint, and we’re together. Properly together. You don’t have to worry about my loyalty, ever.”
She nodded, her chin still cradled in my hand.
“That guy is not going to get Saint. There’s evidence against him. I won’t let that happen. Saint is ours. I want him to have my name. I’m his dad.”
I let her go, leaned back and shut my eyes as the room span. “I wish you’d stopped me drinking so much last night.”
She laughed, straightening up, and turning to straddle my legs. “You said it didn’t matter last night.”
“I didn’t know last night that you’d want me to make my brain work today. Oh my God, that guy! I’m going to have to go back to New York. I’m going to have to have it out with him. It doesn’t work fighting him through the solicitors, he has too much money. I’m going to have to think of something… ”
“If you go back to New York, I’m going too.”
“You’re in no fit state to go there.”
“You can’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be left here… If you go. I’m coming.”
I sighed. “We’ll make a solicitors appointment on Monday and decide after that.”
She nodded. “Can you get up, so we can go home?”
“Yes, ma’am, getting up immediately.”
She got up. “I’m gonna take my stuff down to the bathroom and get ready.”
“Okay.”
I drank down the coffee. I was not up to driving. She’d have to drive the truck.
When I went into the living room to take the cup back into the kitchen, three of Lindy’s old girl friends were spread out on the floor, they had a music channel playing on the TV.
“Hey, Jason.”
“Rachel’s somewhere.”
“I think she’s in the bathroom.”
I nodded at them. They were the three girls Rachel didn’t like.
“Jason!” Lindy called from the kitchen. I took the cup in there. She was tidying up. “Is Rachel feeling any better? She was upset yesterday.”
I didn’t want to tell Lind anything about Saint. I know Rach and her talked, but it was up to Rach to decide what she told Lindy. “I think so.”
“You know she needs a lot of reassurance still… She’s still down.”
I laughed at my ex-fiancée giving me advice on my wife. “We’ve worked that out, thanks.”
She smiled at me. At least she’d found her peace with Billy, at least she didn’t hold a grudge anymore.
“Hey. You’re up. You made it.” Billy came in, I looked over my shoulder and smiled at him.
“Hey Buddy. It was a good party. Thanks for asking us.” I looked at Lindy again. “Thanks.”
“Anytime you want to break the tethers of a parent and want a night out, you know we are your people. ” Billy smacked a hand on my shoulder.
“I think I’ve had my party dose for a while.”
“Are you ready?” Rach leaned around the door jamb, in a tight pair of pale Jeans and a light yellow sweater. She looked so beautiful—a dozen times more beautiful than any of the girls in the other room. She was crazy to think I didn’t want to be with her; every time I looked at her I had this knot tied up in my belly and my chest, and when I’d had to have her put into the hospital, when I’d seen her then, it had been an unbearable pain.
“I’m ready.” I smiled at her. “I left our bag in the hall. You’re going to have to drive.”
“That’s okay.” She walked over and hugged Lindy. I wouldn’t lie, I found it a bit awkward and weird that they’d got so close, but they were both happy with it, and it made it easier for Billy and I, so I kept my mouth shut.
When we pulled up outside Mom’s, Rach parked the truck up on the drive, then jumped out and ran up to the house leaving me to get the bag and follow. Mom answered the door holding Saint.
“Ah my little pumpkin’s still here. Have Granny and Grampy been looking after you? Did you sleep good?” He was gurgling at her as she took him from Mom. Then he gripped her hair. I took our bag down to our room, then went to find Rach. She was in the living room. She’d already found out our trick worm in a can.
She looked up at me. “Get your cell.”
She popped it and he started laughing. I pulled my cell out of my back pocket, bent down and tickled his belly, before touching the camera icon.
No one was taking Saint away from us…
The next part in Jason’s and Rachel’s story,
I’m Keeping You
, will be published in 2015, but in the meantime if you want to follow their story from the beginning, you can read the rest of the series right now.
I Found You
Just You
I Need You
And read on for a sneak peek at the first chapter of
I Found You…
The beat of the music pounded through my earphones, drowning out the loud rattle of the subway trains. I was in the zone. My heart was racing, my feet striking the pavement with the rhythm of the bassline as I ran.
The monotony of city life swamped me in the day, but running brought me back from it at night.
God, I missed home, and fuck it was cold.
Too cold to snow.
I heard the words Dad always repeated. I’d always thought it a myth. Was it ever too cold to snow? I didn’t know, but people had been saying it all day.
The pavement was dry, not icy. Dry with cold. There was no moisture in the air, only the cloud of my breath, as my lungs filled and then exhaled with the pace of my strides.
Maybe it was true. God, there were so many myths in the world. Like, New York City was the place to be. It still felt like new shoes to me, like it just didn’t fit.
The asphalt felt firm beneath my sneakers.
I looked forward, trying to increase my pace and energy, burning away the doubts and disappointments I’d felt since I came to the city.
At the end of the bridge there was a figure, caught in the middle of a beam of white lamplight, like some illuminated angel. I generally only saw other guys jogging on the bridge path. It was rare to see anyone else.
It was Thanksgiving in little over a week and Christmas in a few weeks. Lindy was pissed I wasn’t going back home, but she’d made up her mind to come to me for Christmas.
Was that good or bad?
The figure was facing the Brooklyn Bridge, probably looking at the reflection of the lights glinting and shifting on the dark water. It was mesmerizing when you focused on it.
The Manhattan Bridge was never busy, probably because of the noise of the trains. The environment didn’t inspire pleasure, so it wasn’t a place for tourists. But it was a good path for running: long and straight, and normally empty.
I ran harder, my eyes focusing on the figure.
The person hadn’t moved. They held their hands up, gripping the metal grill above them.
The pose seemed odd. A little desperate. It wasn’t casual.
My imagination shifted, no longer picturing angels but a horror movie. The way the lamplight shone down on the figure was like they were in the sights of a hovering helicopter, or a beam from a UFO.
I thought of Christmas again, and ached for home. But I wasn’t going home. I had to conquer New York.
The light shining down on the stranger suddenly took the form of a Godly benediction once more. The person’s arms shifted, stretching out, similar to a crucifixion pose, hands wide and high as they looked upward.
I was getting nearer.
My fingers were numb with the cold, even inside my gloves, and my ears burned as the frost nipped beneath my hood. Running should’ve kept me warm, but it was twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit, way below freezing point.
Fuck, now I could see the person ahead was standing in a t-shirt. Their outstretched arms were bare.
“Hey!” My heart rate thundered as I ran on, wondering what sort of sketchy city-nutter I was running toward. What were they doing wearing a tee in this weather? It didn’t look like a homeless dude, but…
My breaths grew more uneven.
The guy ahead hadn’t heard me.
I pulled my earphones out. “Hey!”
Still no recognition. It was like they were in some sort of trance.
My feet pounded on the concrete.
It wasn’t a guy, it was a girl. I’d seen the long hair way back, but hadn’t been sure. Plenty of guys had long hair. But now, I could see.
I knocked my hood back. I didn’t want to scare her. “Hey!”
Nothing. Not a single sign of recognition and I was only yards away. She was wearing skinny jeans and sneakers with her tee.
Her hands moved, catching hold of the wire like she was going to climb it, then her foot lifted, seeking a grip on the railing.
Her arms bracing her weight; her other foot lifted. What the hell was she doing? Trying to go over the wire? Did she want to jump?
“Hey! Wait!”
I ran harder.
Fuck. She looked serious and she carried on climbing, searching out hand and foot holds.
“Are you crazy? Stop it!”
As I ran the last few yards her gaze finally turned to me. I covered the distance in moments, watching her clinging on the wire, Spiderman style.
God knows what she saw in my eyes. I could see nothing in hers except maybe fear. They were huge, and dark, staring at me like I was the weird one.
I wasn’t the weird one.
My music continued playing muted sounds and air rasped into my lungs as I stopped. I lifted a hand, palm up, offering to help her down. “Come on…” My breath fogged the air around us. “Nothing’s that bad…”
She held still. Her eyes had no depth. It was like looking into mirrors, reflecting back the electric light. She looked a little mad.
“Let me help you.”
She was panting as hard as I was. She didn’t come down.
She was only a couple of feet off the floor, I could pull her down, but I didn’t want to scare her.
My fingers instinctively lifted and touched her lower back. I could feel the breath pulling into her lungs. “Look, seriously, you don’t want to do anything foolish.”
She didn’t move.
“What’s your name?” Shit. My heart was still racing like I was running. I looked along the bridge path, but there was no one else here to help.
“Honey, come on down. I can’t let you do it.”
She was just staring at me.
What the hell did cops say to persuade a person… “You must be cold, you can have my hoodie. I’m not going to leave you here.”
This was like some TV drama.
My hands were trembling from the blood burning in my muscles. I’d gone from running hard to standing still. A weight of responsibility fell on me suddenly. This girl’s life was in my hands. I’d been running wrapped up in my own world and now… Shit. “Really. Please… Come down.”
Pleading obviously touched some nerve in her, as one foot came back down onto the concrete, her cotton t-shirt catching on my glove and crumpling up, revealing the pale skin of her lower back. My gaze dropped to her plain white sneakers, as the next foot touched the ground.
Relief washed through me on a wave as I lifted my hand so her t-shirt slid back down. I looked up and met her gaze. It was still blank though, and her fingers gripped the wire.
I touched her shoulder. It lifted as air pulled into her lungs, before slipping back out. I didn’t know why I was touching her, but I just… I needed to know she was okay. She didn’t seem to know where she was, or what she’d been doing.
A dark smear marked her face, and whatever it was, it stained her hair too.
Every sermon I’d endured as a kid raced through my head. Help the needy; put others first; don’t walk past that mugged guy in the street. I hadn’t gone to church for years, not since I’d hit my teens, but religion was stitched into my DNA. No way could I walk past a person in need.
My shock dissipating, I stripped off my hoodie. The smell of my sweat permeated the cold air. She probably wouldn’t want it but she needed it. “How long have you been up here? It’s freezing.” She could have been up here half an hour. She hadn’t been here when I’d run over the bridge into Manhattan.
For a minute I didn’t think she’d take it, but then her hand reached out. “I don’t know?”
“You know it’s twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit, right? You’ll get hyperthermia.” She looked at me, her eyes still dead. “I’m Jason… Were you trying to do what I thought?”
She didn’t answer.
I held out my hand. “Hi.”
She didn’t shake my hand, just looked at it.
“Look, nothing can be that bad. You’ll get over it, and be glad you didn’t jump.”
“Will I?” Her pitch was mocking, although maybe she was mocking her own thoughts, not my words, nothing in her eyes or her face told me though.
What now? I could hardly just run on and leave her here. Dammit. “I…” I could take her to emergency… What would they do? Check her over and spit her out. “Have you got any family locally?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
“No.”
Her large eyes confirmed what she’d said. She had nowhere to go. Her full lips pouted a little. Shit. What did I do?
“Where do you live then? Is there somewhere I can take you?”
She was pretty. Her face glowed in the electric light, showing a clear complexion and perfectly even features, though her skin was yellowish in this light.
“No. Nowhere.”
Why was she here? What had made her life too hard to carry on?
She shivered, and pain etched its expression on her face, then tears suddenly glittered in her eyes, and the coldness in them became a lake of desolation. “I need to get away.”
“From what?”
She didn’t answer, but her teeth started chattering. I lifted the hood of my sweatshirt over her blonde hair.
“Look, obviously things aren’t okay for you. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
I took a breath, looking at her and hoping some magical solution would suddenly hit me. It didn’t, and I was getting cold now.
She shivered again and her arms crossed, her hands gripping the opposite elbows. She’d stopped looking at me. She was looking at the sky, like she was searching for answers too.
I sighed, my fingers running over my hair. She was nearly as tall as me, and I was six foot one. She must be at least five eight. But she was slender, like a model. My sweatshirt swamped her figure. She looked fragile.
Shit. There was nothing I could do. “What are you going to do, if I go?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, but she didn’t look down.
My heart was thumping to the same rhythm as the bass beat now pounding out of the earphones dangling ‘round my neck
I couldn’t leave her out here…
“Have you really got nowhere to go?”
She shook her head, making her blonde ponytail sweep over her back.
Shit. What option did I have? What option did she have?
“Have you got any money?”
Her head shook again. But her stillness, apart from her shaking head, made me feel like she didn’t even care. I felt stupid then, of course she didn’t care. She’d just tried to end her life by throwing herself off a bridge. She obviously didn’t care about anything right now.
What to do with her? I could give her money… But I’d have to go back to my apartment to get my card and take her to a cash dispenser. And what would she do with it? Maybe she’d already taken something. Drugs or drink. Maybe that was why she was so dead looking. I’d be stupid to give her money.
I sighed again. I could call the cops and take her to a station. But what would they care?
I found this girl and she’s got nowhere to stay
. They’d say, yeah, right, join the line of a couple of hundred other homeless people in New York.
There wasn’t any choice. “I could take you home with me, if you’ve got nowhere to go. Just for tonight. It would give you chance to get your head straight, and get warm. If you want?”
“I…” She looked at me again then, her eyes losing their depth once more and setting up shutters, locking me out.
“What do you think?” I got another shrug, but her eyes suddenly filled with depth, letting me see into the thoughts behind her gaze. They were asking me questions.
“What are you going to do if you don’t come back with me?” Another shrug. “Have you got any other options?” She shook her head, her ponytail swaying, but her gaze was clinging to mine now, like was she was considering me. Maybe she was trying to judge if she’d be safe.
This was surreal, like I’d been lifted out of real life, and placed in the middle of a fucking film. Question was; how was it going to play out? Taking her home was a risk, but sometimes risks had to be taken. Like coming to New York.
I sighed again. Sometimes taking risks didn’t pay off. But I still hoped they would.
She shivered and her hands gripped her arms harder.
I lifted my hands palm outward. “I swear. I’m the nice guy. And if you’ve got nowhere else to go…” Lindy would go mad, but this was devil or deep-blue-sea territory. How could I leave this woman here? She’d nowhere to sleep and it was twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit.
Her shoulders shook as she shivered again.
“It’s not far. I live in DUMBO.”
“Down under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass…” she whispered. “It’s such a cool name for a neighborhood.”
I laughed. She didn’t.
“Have you got any other choice?”
She shook her head.
“Then on my life, if you come, I’ll not hurt you.”
She said nothing just looked at me.
“My apartment’s warm. You can’t stay out here…” Shit, I was probably just as crazy as her, offering to take a stranger back with me.
“I…”
“I swear, you’re safe with me.”
She looked back at the wire, then down at the water.
“You don’t want to do that. Just give it a night, you’ll feel different in the morning.”
She shook her head, still looking at the water.
If zombies were real, they’d look like her. My sweatshirt swamping her, she stood like a sorrowful statue, her complexion as pale as marble.
I couldn’t just leave her. I rubbed her arms, gently, answering an instinct to put my arm around her, but I denied that. I didn’t even know her name.
“Look, you can trust me. Honest. When we get back to my apartment you can call my Mom, or my friends, and they’ll all tell you I’m the nice guy. Seriously, if you need references…” I smiled as she looked back at me, trying to convince her. “What do you say? Are you a gambler? Are you going to try trusting me?” Silence and stillness. This girl was messed up. But then I’d known that from the moment I’d seen her. She’d been standing in the freezing cold, in a tee, trying to jump off a bridge.
I held her gaze, trying to look inside her, as she looked back, trying to see inside me.
Once more there was a sudden pool of desolation and a glitter in her eyes, and she simply nodded, making the choice to put herself into the hands of a stranger––my hands.
Shit.
I was taking her home.
She could be a drug addict. I’d been so busy trying to persuade her, I’d forgotten about my own concerns. But I couldn’t leave her here alone; fragility and loneliness rang from her, like she was crying out for help. And the damned Good Samaritan story I’d been brought up on wouldn’t let me leave her in the street.
