Page 73 of A Song for You

He shakes his head, his forehead rubbing against mine. “Yeah.” He pulls back but keeps a firm hold on my waist. “Since we can’t take things further, why don’t you tell me why you’re ignoring your brother’s calls?”

I huff. “Do I have to?”

Brows furrowed, he watches me. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” I let out a long breath. “It’s just…” I turn my attention to the scenery outside the window, searching for the right words. But there’s no way to sugarcoat the truth, so I just tell him. “I think Frank saw you touching me the other day.”

Jay arches back and scrubs his hand over his face. “Fuck. That was reckless, wasn’t it?” He smirks, but there’s no amusement in the expression.

In a voice barely above a whisper, I agree. “You tried to finger me in a restaurant while my brothers sat across from us. It wasn’t our proudest moment.”

He laughs. “Speak for yourself. I, for one, am extremely proud. And if I remember correctly, you didn’t hate it.”

I let out a huff of a laugh. “Obviously, we’re both deviants who are oddly turned on by this stuff. Now let’s figure out how to deal with it.”

Jay grabs my hand and presses it to his lips while he thinks. When he opens his mouth and gnaws on my knuckles, I laugh.

“Is that helping you think?”

He smirks and then lets out a breath. “Okay. Just deny it. I doubt he saw anything. I barely touched you. And they’re fucking eighteen. What the fuck do they know?”

His suggestion shouldn’t bother me. Does an idealistic part of me want him to say “fuck it; let’s tell the truth”? Sure. But in reality, am I ready for that drama? No way. And if I’m not ready for the ramifications, then how can I expect him to be?

I can rationalize it all I want, but his answer plants a seed of doubt in my mind that I know will sprout and grow the longer I keep quiet.

I attempt to wiggle off Jay’s lap, but he wraps his arm around my waist and holds me in place. “You’re not happy with that answer,” he says, reading me like a book.

“Cash is my best friend,” I say, admitting at least a half-truth.

He blows out a breath. “Didn’t realize you were so close with your family.”

“Just Cash,” I defend. And there lies one more thing I’m uncomfortable with. Carter and I have never been overly close, but he’s my brother, and I love him. And he’s Jay’s best friend. Why do I feel like he wants me to distance myself from them? Or is it just the James name in general?

The chasm widening during this single conversation makes me wonder how we could ever have a future together. Yet I don’t voice my thoughts. Too afraid to hear his answers.

“What do you want to tell him?” Jay brushes a piece of hair from my face, his thumb stroking back and forth reverently.

I get lost in the depths of his glacier eyes. They’re brimming with warmth, a genuine affection reflected only for me, and suddenly, the cracks I was concerned with moments earlier dissipate. Shrinking and contracting until they’re barely noticeable. This isn’t an easy situation, but he’s trying.

With a half-smile, I place a hand on his cheek. “I want to tell him how I’m falling for the most incredible man. How happy I am. How good it all feels. I want to share all of this with him because I have never felt like this before, and Cash would be thrilled about that.”

Jay’s eyes warm, and his smirk transforms into a beautiful smile. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been too.”

I sigh. Why does he have to be a Hanson? How could something so easy, so simple, so natural, be so difficult? I grab my phone and type out a quick message.

Me: No idea what Frank is talking about. Sorry, grabbing drinks with Sophie. I’ll call you later and see you Saturday. Love you.

Tossing my phone to the seat without waiting for a response, I press my lips against my boyfriend’s. His last name is a problem for another day.

Thirty-Eight

Jay

The Warmth by Incubus

With my father out of the country for the last week, I’ve been breathing easy. I spent time with Cat without having to look over my shoulder. And I was given the responsibility of day-to-day operations in the Boston office with little oversight.

But as I look out my office window, scanning the cityscape, I can’t help but ruminate over my father’s plan for the James family. What the fuck am I going to do?