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Neither of us spoke again for a long while as we sat there, me absorbing everything Raven had just said while she seemed to push some of her strength into me through our clasped hands.
After a while our tears dried and Max started to whine. He was hungry and needed a new diaper. Raven took him up to the nursery to change and feed him before putting him down for his nap. Needing a few minutes to myself, I remained in my chair at the kitchen table.
Up until my talk with Raven I’d honestly thought that I wasn’t needed in anyone’s life. Now I could look back on it all through her eyes and see that I’d been wrong. I’d just been too hurt—and yes, angry—to see that I had an entire family to support me through the tragic loss that had nearly crippled me mentally and emotionally.
I hated that
I had hurt Raven and the others when I’d left, but I couldn’t really regret running away. I’d found the peace that I’d been aching for as well as new friends that would always hold a place in my heart. I had healed and gone on a few crazy adventures with a family I’d grown to consider my own.
I grimaced at the thought of Emmie and her family. I still hadn’t talked to her. I honestly didn’t know what to say. She’d called my cellphone at least a hundred times over the last few weeks, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The voicemails she would leave told me that everything was going better. The Feds still had no clue who had tried to take Mia and shot Gabriella Moreitti. At least Mia was doing better now, though, putting the nightmare of her near kidnapping behind her. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember much of that time when she got older. Maybe. Gabriella was doing well too, now that she was able to move around more.
In Emmie’s last voicemail she’d said that maybe they were on their way home. “I wish you were going with us, Felicity,” had been the last thing she had whispered before she’d ended the call three days before.
I wasn’t as torn up about not going home with them as I might have been when I’d first gotten back to Creswell Springs, after Jet had blackmailed me into returning.
The phone on the counter started ringing and I pushed away from the table to get up and answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, love.” Instantly my panties grew damp and my heart twisted in my chest at the sound of Jet’s deep voice. “Are you busy?”
“N-no,” I murmured, licking my suddenly dry lips. “What’s up?”
“I’m almost done doing inventory. Would you like to go out tonight?”
Something about his voice melted me and I couldn’t understand it. He sounded almost…shy. Tender even. Had Jet ever been those things? Maybe tender a few times—maybe—but never shy. Of course, he’d never asked me to go out before either. Maybe he figured I’d turn him down. “What did you have in mind?”
His laugh was deep and deliciously sexy, making my damp panties embarrassingly wet. I clenched my thighs together as I leaned back against the counter. “It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
Damn it. When he used that tone I couldn’t resist him. It was softer than his normal almost harsh tone. Gentle, almost lovingly gentle. It made me feel special to him and that was a dangerously false state of mind. “Um…sure. Why not?” I knew it was a bad idea to go, to let him do whatever he had planned. I knew that I was already in the red danger zone where my heart was concerned even though I’d tried my damnedest to keep it locked away during the last several weeks. The problem was I just couldn’t help myself.
I wanted every second he was willing to give me before he got bored and tossed me out of his life like he had last time.
“Want me to come pick you up?”
I shook my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “No. I’ll meet you there. When and where?” I needed to get out of the house, clear my head with a nice relaxing drive before I saw him.
“The bar. Seven?” There was that shy note in his voice again and I had to clench my legs together in an attempt to smother the ache that pulsed deep in my most intimate place.
“I’ll see you then.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jet
I wasn’t the hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. I grew up with a man who worshipped his wife, but the only way he showed it was to come home to her every night. That was all my mother had ever wanted, him in her bed every night, holding her. They had been happy, and even after my mother’s death, my father had remained loyal to her memory.
For the last month I’d been trying it my father’s way. Going home to Flick every night, holding her close and making love to her all night long. Telling her over and over again that I loved her.
It wasn’t fucking working.
Flick hadn’t softened to me following my father’s example. She still didn’t acknowledge it when I told her I loved her. She was holding herself away from me, not physically, but emotionally, and it was driving me crazy. It was time to try something else before I lost her all over again. Blackmailing her into coming back with me probably hadn’t started us out on the right foot, but fuck, it was what I knew. I didn’t like to play fair when it came to something I wanted. Something I cared about. Someone I loved.
Females liked hearts and flowery shit, right?
Fuck, I had no idea. I’d never had to use it and fuck knew my sister didn’t like that kind of crap. She was just as hard as any of my brothers, blood or Club. My fault—I was sure—but hell, at least she could take care of herself if she had to. Not that Flick couldn’t. I knew she could, I just didn’t want her to have to. I wanted to take care of her. Forever.
If she would just open her stubborn eyes and see that, it would make my life a hell of a lot easier.
I knew nothing about how to give a female the hearts and flowers, but I was learning. I’d gotten some advice—from Gracie of all people. Hopefully it worked because I was slowly dying inside from not hearing Flick say she loved me like she used to. My brothers would probably give me hell when they found out what I was doing, but I didn’t give a fuck. I’d take them calling me pussy-whipped if it got me the end results I craved.
