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Snapping out of my daze, I scroll through my contacts and hit dial.
“What happened?”
“What makes you think something happened?”
“Because, Sully, you said twenty-four hours, and it hasn’t even been twelve.”
“Yeah, well, the Grim Reaper decided I don’t get that long. I’m sending you the address, and you better have the answers when you get here. I’m guessing you’ve got enough time on your drive here to weigh up what the risks are of telling me exactly what the fuck is going on.” I end the call before he can reply and send him a quick message with the time and an address of a place in the next town. There’s no way I’m risking bringing him here when I don’t know how involved he is.
The creak of a floorboard in the hall warns me of her presence before she even makes it to the door. She gives a small tap on the door before pushing it wider, and her scent fills my room.
“Rick?” My name on her lips is hesitant, something I’ve never heard in her voice before. Inhaling a deep breath, I turn around to face her.
She’s leaning against the frame, one hand on the door and the other in the back pocket of her jeans. Her face tells me in a hundred different ways that she’s tired, confused and unsure.
“You okay?”
“Are you?” I volley back. Answering a question with a question seems to be our thing. I’m gifted with a half smirk as her lip curls in one corner.
“Fucking marvellous,” she snaps sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. Stepping further into the room, she says, “Jamie filled me in on what happened at Tempest back last month, not all the details I’m guessing. You think they are the same guy?”
“It’s likely.”
“But you don’t know the connection yet, right?” I don’t answer her straightaway, and it takes a split second for her to call me on it. “Or you do, but you’re not saying?” I give her a long look. “Okay. You know what, I’m just going to go to bed. Come find me when you decide I’m worthy and you respect me enough to tell me the fucking truth.” She spins on her heels, heading for the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the pictures?” She stops, turning her head to look at me from the corner of her eye.
“And why would I do that? I’m not in the habit of going around and sharing my personal business with strangers, Rick, any more than you obviously are. Careful your hypocrisy is showing.” She goes to walk away again, but it’s like I don’t want her to, and my next words are of dual purpose; made to keep her here for as long as possible and punish myself at the same time.
“You asked me about my wife. Her name was Samantha.” This time I watch as her steps falter, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. “She died after giving birth to our son.” I take a step closer to her. “I wasn’t there, Jess. She died alone and never knowing how amazing our son is.” I step up to her back, and she gasps at the contact.
“She knows, Rick. She knows.”
“How can you be so sure?” I whisper close to her ear. My heart beats ten to a dozen, and I can’t decide if it’s being so close to Jess or talking about Sam.
“Because I like to think that those we lose get to watch over us. I like to think that Christian is proud of at least some of the things I’ve achieved.”
I slide my arms around her waist, splaying my hands over her stomach. “He would be. He always talked about you with so much pride and love, JJ.”
She spins in my arms, brow drawn together and confusion and sadness in her eyes. I see the moment she pieces it together.
“Hold on, you were with my brother when your wife died?”
I nod, swallowing back the pain clogging up my throat. Forcing it to work, I say, “When Sam died, I was being held captive along with Kuffs. I didn’t even know that Sam had gone into labour.”
“Oh my god, Rick.” Her fingers trace the scruff on my jaw before her thumb runs over my bottom lip. Pulling back, she looks at me. “You’ve been blaming yourself all this time. You think that your wife died because you weren’t there.” I lower my eyes from hers, unable to see the disappointment that is sure to be there.
“I couldn’t save either of them, Jess. I couldn’t save my wife or your brother. They died because of me.” My words are drenched in loathing and anger. She grips my jaw and yanks my head up to look at her.
“Hell no, Rick. Are you fucking crazy?” She shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s hearing, and her eyes burn with fury. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she says, her grip on my chin tightening and bringing our mouths closer until they almost touch. “You’re not fucking God, Rick. None of what happened is on you.” Her lips meet mine this time, and I allow her to taste my pain and wash it away with her fierce kiss.
Jess pushes me into the room, closing the door with a well-placed flick of her foot. Her hands roam freely across my torso, under my t-shirt, tickling along my abs down to the prominent V at my hips. When her fingers run inside the waistband of my jeans, I break the kiss.
“Jess, I—”
She places a finger to my lips, silencing me before replacing it with her lips again. My body has no desire to question what we are doing, and I’m too emotionally exhausted to fight it.
“Let’s just have this one night, Rick. I have a feeling that come tomorrow our lives are about to get fucked up and not the good kind.” She flicks the button on my jeans open, slipping her hand inside to find me as hard as granite.
