There’s Wild, Then There’s You (The Wild Ones #3)(30)
Author: M. Leighton

“Can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing? See how it goes?”

He sighs. I can see the disappointment in his eyes. I know what he wanted me to say, but I can’t lie to him. I can’t tell him something that I know would be a lie. I’ve been dishonest enough for a lifetime. I can’t add to it with more half-truths.

Jet loosens his hold on me and steps back to give me room. An opaque curtain drops down over his face. While a casual glance shows no change in his expression, there’s a shadow of something else lurking just beyond that which is clear.

“Then I’ll do my best to honor that, for as long as I can. Just know that we can’t stay here forever.”

“Where is here?”

Jet doesn’t answer me. He simply reaches for my hand, curls my fingers over his, and kisses my knuckles.

Then, with a disheartened curve of his lips, he turns and leads me back the way we came. Back to where we started.

TWENTY-TWO: Jet

For the first time in forever, it seems, the words just flow. As I sit here in the parking lot, outside the SAA meeting, song lyrics pour out in an unstoppable symphony. I’ve written dozens of songs in my life. Some are even pretty damn good ones. Fewer since Mom and Dad split and my life turned to shit, though.

But this one is different. This one is gold. I can feel it. In my soul, I can feel it. This song is going to mean something. And not just to me.

I’m staring through the windshield, hearing the notes in my head, when I see her car pull up. Her name floats through my mind. Drifts almost, like a vibrant fog. It’s more than that, though. More than a name. It’s a color and a person and a beauty that I’ve never seen before in life.

Violet.

I put my head down and scribble more words. I should go inside, but I need to get this down before I forget. I can’t stop writing. Not now.

I glance back up and watch her walk in with her friend. I know I should go in, too, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until I get this out.

I get a heavy feeling in my chest when I pen the next words. It’s guilt. And dread.

Will she hate me when she knows? Will she take her love and go?

I look up again, and she’s gone. I wonder how long it will be until she really is gone.

TWENTY-THREE: Violet

I’m more than a little disappointed when I scan the crowd and don’t find Jet anywhere. He didn’t say he was coming, but he didn’t say he wasn’t either. I guess I just assumed.

“What’s the matter?” Tia asks as we take seats in the nearly empty row at the back.

I give her my brightest, most carefree smile. “Not a thing. I’m just glad you came tonight.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course I came. I’m more dependable than that.”

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

“Sure. And monkeys might fly out of my butt,” I tell her derisively.

“Not with that attitude they won’t,” she sniffs haughtily.

I chuckle, and we turn our attention to Lyle when he starts the meeting. After several minutes of forcing myself not to continue to look around for Jet every four seconds, it has finally gotten a little easier, but then I hear a noise at the back of the room. I make myself stay facing forward. I refuse to look.

It irritates me that I expected him to come, that I wanted him to. That I so wanted to believe he was doing better. And that he was right in that I am making a positive difference in his life. Then I chastise myself, reiterating that this is exactly why I don’t get too involved. There is nothing but disappointment and heartbreak to be had. Nothing else.

All that resolution is wiped away—again—the instant I feel someone slide into the seat beside me and drape an arm casually across the back of my chair. Even before I turn my head to look, I smell him. Even before I confirm with my eyes, I feel him. I feel Jet in the way my pulse speeds up. I feel him in the way my lungs get tight. I feel him in the way my blood sings.

I steal a glance over at him. He’s watching me. When my eyes meet his, he winks and rubs the back of my shoulder with his thumb. And for the first time since all this began, I realize that, as much as I’ve tried to avoid it and outsmart it, I’ve still managed to get myself into trouble. With an addict. A hot rocker who has an impulse control problem and a small portion of the world at his feet.

But I feel something more in him. I feel the soul of someone better, someone who wants to be better. And I feel hope. Whether mine or his, I feel it. And maybe that’s the reason I can’t walk away.

Maybe . . .

Throughout the entire meeting, Jet teases my shoulder and my neck and my hair. With the tips of his fingers, he pulls every ounce of my focus toward him. Inescapably. In a room full of sex addicts, I can think of nothing more than what Jet’s fingers would feel like on my naked skin, in a dark room, with no one around but us.

My cheeks are warm and flushed by the time Lyle breaks. I stand, ready to excuse myself to the restroom, when Jet takes my arm. He holds me still and studies my face as I look at him. In the harsh overhead lights, I see his pupils dilate and I know he knows why I’m excusing myself.

He leans closer to me, so close I can feel his breath, but not so close that I can no longer see his eyes. I see the bright white flecks that shoot out from his pupils like starbursts.

He speaks to me, so softly only I can hear. “You know I can take care of that for you. Only you. You have my word.”

I feel short of breath. He doesn’t have to explain further what he means because I already know. I know exactly what he means. And I want to say yes. More than I’ve ever wanted to say yes to anything.

The muted ring of my phone shatters the moment, giving me a reprieve I know I need, but I’m not sure I want.

“Crap! I forgot to turn off my ringer,” I say, pulling away from his eyes and searching for my phone. When I find it and take it out, my heart sinks at the number displayed on it.

“Hi, Stan,” I answer, much more brightly than I feel.

“Looks like Thursdays just aren’t his night, Violet. He’s out early again.”

I smother a sigh. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. He’s not bothering anybody yet.”

Yet, I think with dread. That must mean he’s having a rough go of it tonight.

I hit end and throw my phone back in my purse. Tia speaks from behind me. “Your dad?”

“Close enough. It was Stan.” I meet Jet’s eyes again. “I need to go.”

“Wait. What about me?” Tia says, coming around in front of me. “I had Dennis drop me off, remember?”