AJ frowned.
“I’m joking.” She squeezed his leg. “I know a guy.”
“A guy?”
“Yes.”
“By any chance is he the same guy who’s responsible for the pain medication?”
“Yes.”
“A doctor?”
“Satan.”
“You sold your soul to the Devil for me?”
With a slight head cock, she stared at the road, thinking about that assessment. “No. I’d say the Devil sold his soul to me.”
Jillian felt AJ’s gaze on her, but she kept her eyes trained ahead—to the future, a million miles away from her past.
“Grocery store?”
“Of course. But you can come in this time. We need grub for a few days.”
Ice for the cooler and four bags of groceries later, they were on their way again. AJ started to drift to sleep just as they pulled into the parking area of a primitive campsite.
“Looks like we’re the only ones here.” Jillian smiled at AJ as she got out. “I’ll set everything up. You just rest.”
“I’m not sitting on my ass while you set everything up.” He climbed out with slow, stiff movements.
“You should take a few pain pills anyway so they’ve kicked in by the time we get the tent set up.”
“I’m fine.”
His grumpy reply that she suspected to be a lie gained him an exaggerated eye roll straight to his face.
“Fine.”
They set up the tent, an eight-person castle that allowed AJ to fully stand at the tallest part in the middle.
“S’mores?” Jillian called from outside the tent.
AJ grinned as he stepped out, seeing her roasting four marshmallows to a toasted-brown perfection over the low flame of their little camping stove. She had graham crackers and chocolate squares waiting on their plates. Pride beamed from her whole face as she pressed everything together and handed him his plate.
“And you thought I couldn’t cook.”
AJ shoved half of it into his mouth, leaving a mess of chocolate and marshmallow smeared along his lips.
“Good?” Jillian chuckled, taking a much smaller bite of hers.
“So good.” Graham cracker crumbs shot out from his over-stuffed mouth.
“How can you even taste it with your mouth so jam-packed?”
After some lion-sized chews and a few big swallows he could talk without spitting all over her. “I can’t remember the last thing that tasted this good.”
Every smile felt like the last, like watching the finale to a fireworks display. Jillian captured each one, letting it make a slow burn into her memory.
“You’re staring. My face is a mess, isn’t it?” He brushed his fingers over his lips.
Jillian moved over to his lap. “I’ve met two-year-olds that eat neater than you.” She ran her thumb along his bottom lip then sucked the tip of her thumb.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her thumb from her lips back to his.
“You should take your pills,” she whispered, feeling a sudden wave of nerves from the intimacy of his touch.
Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on her chest, his hands on her hips. “I’m not ready to stop feeling yet.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, fighting a lifetime of emotions, she kissed the top of his head, pressing her palms to his cheeks.
He looked up at her. “Missing you hurt worse than anything they did to me.”
Biting her lips together, she shook her head. “Loving you feels like torture.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m not.” She kissed him, welcoming every emotion: the pain, the breath of life, the uncertainty, the fear, the love. So. Much. Love.
“Aric James … I need us.”
He carried her into the tent and set her down, kneeling at her feet. Their eyes stayed locked the whole time. Jillian didn’t even want to blink, fearing he’d vanish. Life always changed in that one. Single. Blink.
They undressed each other with a slow reverence, letting every touch, every look, every second … every blink matter. With Luke every moment felt like the first, with AJ every moment felt like the last. As AJ moved inside her, she let it be the moment, because it was the only one she had.
“Jillian?” He kissed her neck, rocking his body against hers with agonizing patience.
“Yes,” she whispered, feeling as if her body could float away.
“From this point forward…” he squeezed her breast until she let out a small cry “…every breath I take belongs to you … only you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible to her. “I hate you … I fucking hate you for leaving me.” A strangled sob released into his neck while she continued to find her release. Her entire body wanted to let go of everything, everything except the beautifully broken man in her arms. How was she ever going to let him go?
“I hate me too.” He fisted her hair with both hands and smashed his lips to hers as he released inside her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jackson demolished any time record he had ever set running, and then tore through an abs, pushup, and pull-up workout like his whole body defied gravity. Living under the mercy of two women—one infuriating, one frustrating—paid a mental toll on his sanity, and the only way to keep everything in check was to make his body burn until his mind could no longer conjure a worthwhile thought.
Meredith Baker, his ten o’clock lesson arrived an hour early. Most of his students knew each other or were somehow connected because they’d all been referred to him by word of mouth. Meredith said she couldn’t remember who gave her his name and it didn’t matter how they “found each other” all that mattered is they were “together.”
“Jackson.” She batted her fake eyelashes.
“Mrs. Baker, you’re early … like an hour early.” He shoved the last bite of his toast into his mouth as she wormed her way inside without being invited.
“Oh, am I?” The large-busted woman ran her fake nails through her wiry black hair and smiled, revealing red lipstick smudged along her slightly crooked white teeth.
His lungs begged for air as her toxic perfume diffused into the entryway. “Yes.” He coughed. “It’s only nine.”
“Oh, silly me. I still haven’t changed all my clocks since the time change.”
“I see. Well, I haven’t finished my breakfast and I still need to shower so maybe you could come back—”
“I don’t mind waiting. Just pretend I’m not here.” She adjusted her tight top that seemed to be in a wrestling match with her large breasts.
Jackson rolled his eyes behind her back then grabbed his last piece of toast while she surveyed the room as if she hadn’t seen it numerous times before.
“It’s odd that you don’t have any personal pictures on the wall or fireplace mantel. Don’t you think?”
He didn’t respond. After all, she said to pretend she wasn’t there.
“Did you hear me, Jackson?”
“I did, but I don’t really have an answer for you.”
“Where’s Jillian?”