Next to Never
Page 25
The only man, other than my son, who my life revolved around was Jase. I, on the other hand, wasn’t the only woman in his life.
“If I’d met you first, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Jase told me. “You’re the one I want. My father owns the law firm I work in, Kat. If I divorce Maddie, I lose the job and everything I’ve worked for. We just have bad timing. We’ll get through this.” He rubbed a circle on my cheek. “When I make partner, I can do whatever I want.”
I turned my eyes away, knowing what I should do. Don’t they all say that? “Just wait. We’ll be together, I promise. Just a little more time.”
If only I could just enjoy him and not be feeling what I’m starting to feel. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the tears back.
“When it’s just us,” he whispered, his breath on my lips, “alone and warm, and I’m holding you, that’s who I am, Kat. That’s who I look forward to being when I’m leaving work and I can’t get to you quick enough.” He kissed me, soft and gentle. “Stay with me. I can’t lose you.”
I shook my head, trying to not to let his words get to me, but I started crying anyway. I dipped my head into his chest, slipping my hands inside his jacket and hating the way I was starting to bend again.
If I trusted him—just gave him a chance—what did I have to lose?
Someone cleared their throat nearby, and I pulled away, taking in a quick breath. “Excuse me,” a male voice said.
Jase stood up straight, breathing nervously and turned around. The man standing behind him was the one who had been seated at the table with Jase and his wife. He was older, and his blue eyes shifted casually between Jase and me.
“Be discreet,” he told Jase and then looked at me, tipping his head. “Young lady.”
And I caught the shadow of a smile as he disappeared into the men’s room.
Jase’s body went stiff and he pulled away, adjusting his tie and jacket, not looking at me.
Was that his father?
“Go home, okay?” he asked, his tone curt. “I’ll give you what you need. You’re not working nights.”
And then, without waiting for me to respond, he left me there, making his way back into the restaurant.
Jesus. It was all about him.
His demands, his life, his schedule, his pace . . . Was I happier than I was before?
I brushed my hair away from my face and fixed my dress, knowing the answer without even thinking about it. Yeah, I was happy. When he was around.
But when he wasn’t, the lows were lower than they were with Thomas, because of one simple fact . . . I never loved Thomas.
I thought I had, but if what I was starting to feel for Jase was any indication, then he had the potential to hurt me a lot more than my ex.
Walking back out, I stopped at the bar to pay for my drink and quickly downed it, closing my eyes as the warmth of the alcohol coursed through my veins and coated my stomach.
Jase passed behind me, walking his wife out of the restaurant and helping her into her coat without sparing me a glance. But I caught her eye, a fraction of a moment longer than I should have. Had she seen Jase and me talking at the bar? Did she feel the tension on him I could?
They left and I sat down, disobeying orders. How long would I wait for him? A year? Two? Forever?
I wanted to be with him, but I was starting to fear that I was holding back for fear of missing out on his promise to me. What if he left her? I had to try, right?
But there were no answers. Only silence. The alcohol smoothed out the edges, and the tightness in my muscles began to ease. The worrying ache in my head dissipated, and the storm of emotions and questions brewing in my mind started to look like the picture through a telescope. Far, far away.
“Can I have another, please?” I asked the bartender.
While I waited for Jase, I may as well enjoy myself. Hopefully, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.
• • •
I close the book and let my head fall back against the headboard. I’m glad there wasn’t more sex, but I was too curious not to keep reading. So many things no one ever told me.
My mom shouldn’t have waited for him. She should’ve left his ass until he got his shit together. She was right. If he wanted her, then he wouldn’t have been able to wait, right?
But then I remember that this is just a book. They’re married now, happy, and I don’t know for sure that this is about them. Couldn’t it be a coincidence about the names, Fall Away Lane where Jared’s and Jax’s houses are located, Lockes-on-the-Bluff where Madoc takes his mom to dinner every time she’s in town . . . ?
If it is real, who could’ve written it? Who would know all this stuff about my parents?
And who sent it, believing I needed to have it?
Hopefully, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.
I can’t help but think that this is true for a lot of us.
“Quinn!” I hear Dylan call from downstairs.
Shit, she must be back already. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.
“Coming!” I shout.
Stuffing the book in my satchel, I check my hair in the mirror and run out of my bedroom.
Passing my parents’ room, I stop and think, remembering my mom’s box of keepsakes in her closet. I remember being enamored of her journal when I was a kid, but she wouldn’t let me read it.
If this book is true, the person who wrote it has to be close to at least one of my parents. They had to get the story somewhere.
“If I’d met you first, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Jase told me. “You’re the one I want. My father owns the law firm I work in, Kat. If I divorce Maddie, I lose the job and everything I’ve worked for. We just have bad timing. We’ll get through this.” He rubbed a circle on my cheek. “When I make partner, I can do whatever I want.”
I turned my eyes away, knowing what I should do. Don’t they all say that? “Just wait. We’ll be together, I promise. Just a little more time.”
If only I could just enjoy him and not be feeling what I’m starting to feel. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the tears back.
“When it’s just us,” he whispered, his breath on my lips, “alone and warm, and I’m holding you, that’s who I am, Kat. That’s who I look forward to being when I’m leaving work and I can’t get to you quick enough.” He kissed me, soft and gentle. “Stay with me. I can’t lose you.”
I shook my head, trying to not to let his words get to me, but I started crying anyway. I dipped my head into his chest, slipping my hands inside his jacket and hating the way I was starting to bend again.
If I trusted him—just gave him a chance—what did I have to lose?
Someone cleared their throat nearby, and I pulled away, taking in a quick breath. “Excuse me,” a male voice said.
Jase stood up straight, breathing nervously and turned around. The man standing behind him was the one who had been seated at the table with Jase and his wife. He was older, and his blue eyes shifted casually between Jase and me.
“Be discreet,” he told Jase and then looked at me, tipping his head. “Young lady.”
And I caught the shadow of a smile as he disappeared into the men’s room.
Jase’s body went stiff and he pulled away, adjusting his tie and jacket, not looking at me.
Was that his father?
“Go home, okay?” he asked, his tone curt. “I’ll give you what you need. You’re not working nights.”
And then, without waiting for me to respond, he left me there, making his way back into the restaurant.
Jesus. It was all about him.
His demands, his life, his schedule, his pace . . . Was I happier than I was before?
I brushed my hair away from my face and fixed my dress, knowing the answer without even thinking about it. Yeah, I was happy. When he was around.
But when he wasn’t, the lows were lower than they were with Thomas, because of one simple fact . . . I never loved Thomas.
I thought I had, but if what I was starting to feel for Jase was any indication, then he had the potential to hurt me a lot more than my ex.
Walking back out, I stopped at the bar to pay for my drink and quickly downed it, closing my eyes as the warmth of the alcohol coursed through my veins and coated my stomach.
Jase passed behind me, walking his wife out of the restaurant and helping her into her coat without sparing me a glance. But I caught her eye, a fraction of a moment longer than I should have. Had she seen Jase and me talking at the bar? Did she feel the tension on him I could?
They left and I sat down, disobeying orders. How long would I wait for him? A year? Two? Forever?
I wanted to be with him, but I was starting to fear that I was holding back for fear of missing out on his promise to me. What if he left her? I had to try, right?
But there were no answers. Only silence. The alcohol smoothed out the edges, and the tightness in my muscles began to ease. The worrying ache in my head dissipated, and the storm of emotions and questions brewing in my mind started to look like the picture through a telescope. Far, far away.
“Can I have another, please?” I asked the bartender.
While I waited for Jase, I may as well enjoy myself. Hopefully, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.
• • •
I close the book and let my head fall back against the headboard. I’m glad there wasn’t more sex, but I was too curious not to keep reading. So many things no one ever told me.
My mom shouldn’t have waited for him. She should’ve left his ass until he got his shit together. She was right. If he wanted her, then he wouldn’t have been able to wait, right?
But then I remember that this is just a book. They’re married now, happy, and I don’t know for sure that this is about them. Couldn’t it be a coincidence about the names, Fall Away Lane where Jared’s and Jax’s houses are located, Lockes-on-the-Bluff where Madoc takes his mom to dinner every time she’s in town . . . ?
If it is real, who could’ve written it? Who would know all this stuff about my parents?
And who sent it, believing I needed to have it?
Hopefully, I wasn’t missing out more than I was waiting for, though.
I can’t help but think that this is true for a lot of us.
“Quinn!” I hear Dylan call from downstairs.
Shit, she must be back already. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.
“Coming!” I shout.
Stuffing the book in my satchel, I check my hair in the mirror and run out of my bedroom.
Passing my parents’ room, I stop and think, remembering my mom’s box of keepsakes in her closet. I remember being enamored of her journal when I was a kid, but she wouldn’t let me read it.
If this book is true, the person who wrote it has to be close to at least one of my parents. They had to get the story somewhere.
