Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(27)
Author: A.L. Jackson

• • •

The next morning, I stood in the kitchen at the bar, peering out the sliding glass door to the apartment balcony.

Jared was there. With his back to me, he stared out over the low stucco wall to the parking lot below and the city extending out far beyond his view, though I knew he was lost to the thoughts in his mind. Twitching, he lifted his hand, and his back expanded as he inhaled the cigarette that burned between his fingers. Smoke curled over the top of his head, evaporated in the sharp gusts of wind that whipped short pieces of his blond hair into an uncontrolled frenzy.

Dark jeans hung low on his narrow waist, clinging to his hips.

But he was shirtless, leaving the canvas that continued his story exposed.

Bold marks of suggestion cut across his wide shoulders and spiraled in a shifting whorl down his back. Distorted faces flashed in a tumble of color, some appearing demonic. Others angelic.

Of all the ink covering his body, this was what terrified me most. It screamed confusion and chaos, an unsound spirit lost in a daze of disorder, something begging to break free from its chains.

So much like what I witnessed in his eyes last night when I woke him from his nightmare.

I lifted the glass of orange juice to my mouth and sipped at the cool liquid, my eyes refusing to lose sight of the man I loved with all my life, willing him to recognize it.

To see through it.

This morning, he was agitated, but I knew he was doing his best to make this okay.

Today was going to be rough.

He and I both knew it.

Christopher barreled down the hall, breaking up my thoughts as he came around the bar and into the kitchen. He planted a quick kiss to my temple. “Happy Thanksgiving, little sister.”

He grabbed a mug from the cupboard. The coffeepot clanked as he pulled it out and poured a cup.

My attention slid to him, and my mouth lifted with sincere appreciation. “Thank you, Christopher.” Clearly, I was thanking him for so much more. He’d supported me through the last three months when I was scared and alone.

For a second he just looked at me, serious, like he knew how truly grateful I was for everything he’d done for me. “You don’t need to thank me, Aly. You’ve always taken care of my sorry ass.”

Mild laughter seeped from me. “No . . . I just nagged at you enough to make you think I was taking care of you.”

“Ha . . . now that you have.” He winked. Leaning back against the counter, he held the mug between his hands and took a tentative sip of steaming coffee. “You still planning on telling Mom and Dad today?”

I nodded. “Yeah. We are.”

Christopher looked at his feet. A sympathetic snort escaped his nose as he glanced up at me. “You know Dad’s going to lose his shit.”

“I know.” I wasn’t defensive, just sad, because I knew my dad so well and I felt like he knew so little about me. I knew he loved me, how much he cared about and hoped for his children. He wanted us to be happy and strong and live good lives.

I just wasn’t sure he understood what having all those things really meant to me.

And I wasn’t a child.

But I’d always be my dad’s little girl.

Christopher and I stood in silence for a few minutes, scenarios running through our heads on how things might play out today.

I finished off my orange juice, doing my best to ignore the anxious nerves that nagged at my heart and mind.

Christopher blew out an exaggerated breath. “Well, we’d better get a move on. Mom’s going to start calling and asking where we’re at if we don’t get over there soon.”

I inclined my head to the balcony door. “Give us a few minutes to finish getting ready.”

“Not a problem. I need to finish getting ready myself.”

He dumped his mug in the sink and brushed his fingers across the side of my hand as he passed by, leaving me with a silent show of encouragement.

Walking out into the main room, I stopped for a moment to appreciate Jared from behind, before I went into my bathroom to finish my makeup and hair. Five minutes later, I headed out of the bathroom and turned the knob to my bedroom.

I smiled a little, correcting myself.

Our bedroom.

Was it ridiculous that the idea of that made me giddy with joy? The thought of Jared and me as a family? That the man who held all of my dreams had become my home?

And I thought no. There was nothing ridiculous about us, about this love that was always supposed to be.

That’s what I was giving thanks for today. For this start, this beginning, as rocky as it was. But really, I couldn’t even think of it as a beginning when Jared had forever been my always.

I swung my door open. Jared stood in the middle of the room. He fumbled with the buttons of a dark blue, long-sleeved dress shirt.

From under his brow, he glanced up. He stilled when he caught sight of me.

Something that looked like awe and disbelief filled the blue of his intense eyes as I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.

The truth written on his face sent a flood of emotion rushing over me. Just the look thundered my heart, pounding it with affection for him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I smoothed out the deep plum dress I’d put on for Thanksgiving dinner. It had a fitted V-neck bodice with three-quarter sleeves, and the tailored skirt came down to just above my knees. Black stockings kept my legs warm, and I’d paired it with black ankle boots. My long hair was pinned up into a messy, chunky twist, and pieces fell down around my face.

Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ was never fancy, always a house full of laughter and easy conversation and comfort. And a strong current of thankfulness.

But we dressed up a little just to honor the day. The dress was simple but pretty, and my parents had given it to me last Christmas, so I thought it was fitting.

Jared slowly crossed the room, each step unhurried, like he relished each one that brought him closer to me. As he approached, he tipped his head to the side in slow appreciation. “Keep telling you, baby, but every time I look at you, you knock the breath right outta me.” Something significant flashed in his eyes. “Still can’t believe you’re my girl.”

My fingertips fluttered down the hollow of his strong neck, trailed down his chest to take over his job. I slowly worked through the remaining buttons of his shirt as I gazed up at him. “I’ve always been your girl. You just didn’t know it.”

His expression was all over the place, sexy and sly, this cocky quirk lifting just one side of his mouth, an expression that hammered my heart and sent my stomach tripping with desire. But it was the soft creases at the corners of his eyes that stole my own breath.