The Dark Light of Day
Page 56
Jake gathered me into his arms until I stood between his legs. He kissed the top of my head and breathed into my hair. “Is it always like that?” I asked hesitantly, my voice a cracked whisper. I had to know.
“Is what always like that?”
“You know.” I tilted my head back toward the house, hoping the dim light hid the redness I felt creeping up my neck and onto my face.
Understanding and amusement mingled on his face. “No, Bee,” he laughed. “It’s not.”
For a split second, I thought he meant I’d been a disappointment, that he was used to better than what we’d shared.
He must have read my thoughts, “Bee,” he started, “it’s never, ever been like that for me. I’m not exactly a word person, but let me put it this way: I don’t think most people ever get to experience something that fucking amazing—” His gaze deepened. “—someone so amazing.” He leaned down to me. I could feel the brush of his goatee lightly graze my chin and cheek before his lips covered mine. Slowly, the heat that never had enough time to die down started to build again. His tongue gently parted my lip. When it met mine, our breathing became labored and my hands moved into his hair.
Jake pulled his lips away, but stayed close enough so I didn’t have to release my hold on him. “If I don’t leave now, young lady, I’ll be dragging you back to my bed and never, ever leaving.”
His hands rested on the nape of my neck as he pressed his forehead to mine. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
He growled in frustration. “Go!” he commanded, pointing to the apartment and placing an innocent final kiss on my forehead. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“Abbbbyyyy,” he said, playfully warning me. I liked that side of him.
It almost made me forget what he was heading out to do.
Not that his work itself bothered me. I was worried about his safety, not his job. For once, I wasn’t going to question my feelings, or the black-and-white of what they should be.
“I’m going. I’m going,” I said, as I peeled myself away from him and slowly turned toward the door.
“Hey Bee!” he called when I had almost reached the front door.
“Yeah?” I asked and turned to see him already mounting his bike. His goggles were in place, and he adjusted the strap on his helmet.
Damn sexy.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.” His face was a mix of happiness and dread
“You better,” I said, trying to keep a light tone to words that sat heavy on my tongue. I took a deep breath and summoned control I never knew I had. Then, I turned and walked back through the front door.
I sat on the floor with my back against the door until I heard the roar of his bike coming to life and the clattering spray of the gravel from under the wide tires as he pulled out onto the main road. I sat there long after the sound faded into the distance, Jake along with it.
“I love you,” I whispered to no one.
It wasn’t just that I had lost my virginity. It was that, other than with Nan, I had never felt so needed, so wanted, so sure of something in my entire life. What happened to mean, angry Abby Ford, with defenses stronger than Fort Knox? Who was this girl who had actually managed to let someone into her life besides her grandmother? For the first time since Nan died, I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t have to be Mean Abby with Jake. I didn’t have to put on a front and show him how tough I could be. I was softer around the edges. He challenged me in the best of ways. I even loved that he was just as stubborn as I was.
I would rather fight with him than have a normal conversation with anyone else.
It was at least an hour before I got up. I needed something to distract me, so I turned on Jake’s laptop and typed tattoos and scars into the search engine. I was shocked at the images that came back. Thousands of pictures, mostly of women, with colorful flowered tattoos inked over c-section scars, or in places where their limbs had been amputated. I spent hours looking at them all. The breast cancer survivors were what really caught my attention. So many had opted to embrace their scars – some with a full design filling their whole chest. They didn’t cover their scars. They decorated them.
It wasn’t just what I wanted now.
It was what I needed.
If the apartment phone hadn’t rung just then, I would have already been pulling up images of what I wanted depicted around my scars. I would have been up the rest of the night contemplating the new Abby, someone I was actually beginning to like.
I crossed the room reluctantly and picked up the phone. I didn’t even get a chance to say hello. “Abby. Thank fucking God you answered,” Reggie said. “Listen, I know Jake is out of town, but the motor on the Morgan crapped out on us again, and we are stuck on fucking Cabbage Key in the middle of the damn night. Just now got enough cell reception to call you. Bo lost his keys for the three hundredth fucking time, and the moron waits until this very moment to let me know he left everything open at the storage unit! He’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe.”
“Is what always like that?”
“You know.” I tilted my head back toward the house, hoping the dim light hid the redness I felt creeping up my neck and onto my face.
Understanding and amusement mingled on his face. “No, Bee,” he laughed. “It’s not.”
For a split second, I thought he meant I’d been a disappointment, that he was used to better than what we’d shared.
He must have read my thoughts, “Bee,” he started, “it’s never, ever been like that for me. I’m not exactly a word person, but let me put it this way: I don’t think most people ever get to experience something that fucking amazing—” His gaze deepened. “—someone so amazing.” He leaned down to me. I could feel the brush of his goatee lightly graze my chin and cheek before his lips covered mine. Slowly, the heat that never had enough time to die down started to build again. His tongue gently parted my lip. When it met mine, our breathing became labored and my hands moved into his hair.
Jake pulled his lips away, but stayed close enough so I didn’t have to release my hold on him. “If I don’t leave now, young lady, I’ll be dragging you back to my bed and never, ever leaving.”
His hands rested on the nape of my neck as he pressed his forehead to mine. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
He growled in frustration. “Go!” he commanded, pointing to the apartment and placing an innocent final kiss on my forehead. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“Abbbbyyyy,” he said, playfully warning me. I liked that side of him.
It almost made me forget what he was heading out to do.
Not that his work itself bothered me. I was worried about his safety, not his job. For once, I wasn’t going to question my feelings, or the black-and-white of what they should be.
“I’m going. I’m going,” I said, as I peeled myself away from him and slowly turned toward the door.
“Hey Bee!” he called when I had almost reached the front door.
“Yeah?” I asked and turned to see him already mounting his bike. His goggles were in place, and he adjusted the strap on his helmet.
Damn sexy.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.” His face was a mix of happiness and dread
“You better,” I said, trying to keep a light tone to words that sat heavy on my tongue. I took a deep breath and summoned control I never knew I had. Then, I turned and walked back through the front door.
I sat on the floor with my back against the door until I heard the roar of his bike coming to life and the clattering spray of the gravel from under the wide tires as he pulled out onto the main road. I sat there long after the sound faded into the distance, Jake along with it.
“I love you,” I whispered to no one.
It wasn’t just that I had lost my virginity. It was that, other than with Nan, I had never felt so needed, so wanted, so sure of something in my entire life. What happened to mean, angry Abby Ford, with defenses stronger than Fort Knox? Who was this girl who had actually managed to let someone into her life besides her grandmother? For the first time since Nan died, I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t have to be Mean Abby with Jake. I didn’t have to put on a front and show him how tough I could be. I was softer around the edges. He challenged me in the best of ways. I even loved that he was just as stubborn as I was.
I would rather fight with him than have a normal conversation with anyone else.
It was at least an hour before I got up. I needed something to distract me, so I turned on Jake’s laptop and typed tattoos and scars into the search engine. I was shocked at the images that came back. Thousands of pictures, mostly of women, with colorful flowered tattoos inked over c-section scars, or in places where their limbs had been amputated. I spent hours looking at them all. The breast cancer survivors were what really caught my attention. So many had opted to embrace their scars – some with a full design filling their whole chest. They didn’t cover their scars. They decorated them.
It wasn’t just what I wanted now.
It was what I needed.
If the apartment phone hadn’t rung just then, I would have already been pulling up images of what I wanted depicted around my scars. I would have been up the rest of the night contemplating the new Abby, someone I was actually beginning to like.
I crossed the room reluctantly and picked up the phone. I didn’t even get a chance to say hello. “Abby. Thank fucking God you answered,” Reggie said. “Listen, I know Jake is out of town, but the motor on the Morgan crapped out on us again, and we are stuck on fucking Cabbage Key in the middle of the damn night. Just now got enough cell reception to call you. Bo lost his keys for the three hundredth fucking time, and the moron waits until this very moment to let me know he left everything open at the storage unit! He’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe.”
