“You know you don’t have to hoof it home at all. You could just, I don’t know, stay?”
Jax stands. His hands fall on my hips and he tugs me close enough that his lips are an inch from mine. “You want me to?”
I always want him to stay. More than that, I wanthimto want it too. I settle for a shrug. “Yeah. But don’t wait up if you’re tired. I’ll get you in the morning.”
“Counting on it.” Jax kisses my jaw, and we part ways on a promise.
Chapter Twenty
Jax
The rest of the week passes so fast I can’t distinguish one day from the next. I spend my time helping the Wildfoot marketing team weave the material we’ve gathered into something coherent, and every other minute with Tanner. I’ve stopped worrying about the gut-deep cravings I have for him when we’re not together. It’s hard to be afraid when being with him makes me feel so damn good.
Thanksgiving plays on my mind, though, and I regret the shedload of cider I put away after dinner. I remember every second of rolling around in an unfamiliar bed with Tanner, but the desperate conversation we had afterwards, not so much. Or maybe I do remember it, and I wish I didn’t. All this time I’ve been obsessed with puzzle pieces, but now I have enough to hold in my hand, the sum of them is a picture I’m not ready for.
The Wagon Wheel biscuits Tanner’s bought me help. I eat them all and fold the wrappers into tiny triangles that I leave in a neat pile by the coffee machine. The sight of them makes him laugh every morning, and I cling tightly to the deep rumbling sound every time I wake up to it.
Sunday morning dawns. I’m not ready for that either, but Tanner is ready for me. He’s been awake long enough to brew tea and make coffee, and he’s come back to bed…naked.
We fuck. Shower together. Then I offer Tanner my limited kitchen skills and scramble eggs for breakfast while he toasts the bread. Somehow he knows I’ll burn it. We eat standing up, leaning against the counter. Then I kiss him, and it’s time to go.
Tanner takes a breath. I know he’s about to tell me to be careful and safe and all the other things he worries about. But he stops himself. “Have fun,” he says instead. “Let me know when you’re back?”
“I’ll send smoke signals from my bedroom.”
“I’ll come running.”
“I hope so. It’s about time you fucked me inmybed.”
He smirks. “That right?”
I shrug, because it’s whatever. He can fuck me anywhere he likes. Regardless, I have togo.
One more kiss, then I leave him standing in his kitchen, and head out, hiking out to HQ to claim the Wildfoot truck.
HQ is bustling when I arrive. The brace of excited environmentalists are waiting for me, loaded down with rucksacks far too heavy for the hike we’re going to make when we reach the bottom of the trails.
It takes me half the morning to negotiate their loads down to a reasonable weight. By then, we’re running short on time. I drive out to Black Claw and leave the truck in the spot I think of as Jerry’s. The day is closing in on us. We have limited time to hike to our campsite, but I still linger a moment where the cell service works and send Tanner a final text.
Jax:Heading out. Wish you were here. Gonna tell you I love you when I get back.
I hit sent before my brain can reel my heart in. The message barrels free into the ether, and as hard as I try, I regret nothing.
* * *
Tanner
Jax loves me. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. I read his message a thousand times, searching for a reality check. The punchline that lets me know I’ve misunderstood. But it’s not there. Jax doesn’t bullshit. He loves me, and he’s gonna tell me to my face the next time I see him.
Deep breaths rattle my lungs. I pocket my phone. Get it out again and reread the message. I haven’t replied. Yet. But only because I don’t want the first time I return the sentiment times a million to be on fucking WhatsApp. Also, he won’t see it. Black Claw has zero cell service on a good day, especially where he’s headed.
Without Jerry.
Worry gnaws my heart. I dampen it with a shot of Vermont cider-brandy. Molly, back from Ohio, watches me, her eyes even rounder than usual.
“Don’t start,” I warn her. “It’s gonna be a long couple days.”
“Not even that long,” she retorts. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
