Home To You (27 page)

He rose. “Let’s go in the office and I’ll show you.”

He walked in and held up the math primers Kendall had bought. “I got started on these last night. I thought if you wouldn’t mind finding me a collection of math textbooks, I could go through them. I don’t want to question if I’m missing something.”

“So you’re going to go through every math book between first grade and graduate statistics and applied business calc?”

“If that’s what it takes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Anne sat down at his desk and brought up a Web site for an Internet bookstore. “I’ll order them today and have them overnighted. I’ll print out the succession plan so you can look that over while I’m on the Great Math Book Hunt, and then we’ll talk about that.” She looked at her watch. “I can stay here for another couple of hours; then I need to go to the office.”

“Okay. Would you mind working from here half days?”

“No, that would be fine. I can have the phones transferred. I’ll just push the managers’ meetings to two o’clock, and start B
CC
ing you the reports, so you can get back up to speed.”

Jax sat in the chair facing his desk while she blew through a task list that was mind-boggling, sifted through e-mails, answered questions, and ordered him enough textbooks to get him through high school calculus. Before he got through the third-grade primer, she was packing up her computer.

“Anne, thank you. I can’t tell you how much your help means to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be back at eight tomorrow morning. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Yeah,” He rubbed his neck and shook his head. “I was wondering if you could program an alarm for six. I want to start swimming again, and that should give me enough time to get in my swim and be back before you get here.”

“Sure.” She stuck out her hand. “Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it. If I concentrate, I can dial phone numbers for takeout, and I’m figuring out how to count money, thanks to these.” He pointed at the pictures of change. “Before you go, let me give you a key to get in,
just in case you get here before I return. My sense of time isn’t the best yet.”

Anne followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while he searched for the spare keys. “I’ll tell the doormen to let you in anytime.”

“Thanks. Oh, and the restaurant will be by to take the remains of breakfast before five. Just send it down in the elevator. I put everything on the expense account.”

“That’s fine.” He helped her into her coat and called the elevator.

“Jackson?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.” She pulled him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried about you.”

He’d known her ten years, and they might have shared a handshake before. He smiled and hugged her back. “You have no idea how nice that is to hear. It’s good to be back.”

She brushed his beard with her hand. “Is this going to stay?”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of nice not shaving every day.”

“It’ll have to go before the first board meeting. But I like it. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“That would be great.”

“Okay, but don’t expect a repeat of today’s service, especially now that I’ve got the goods on you. I’ll stop and pick up breakfast sandwiches or bagels, and you might think about hitting the grocery store. We’re going to need coffee—a lot of it.”

*

Kendall pushed her way through the door of the cabin, juggling a full box of groceries that felt like it weighed almost as much as she did. “Yeah, I might have overdone the whole shopping thing.” She made it to the kitchen, dumped them on the counter, and headed back to the Jeep.

Her whole body ached from packing and moving. Now, thanks to Erin, Cameron, Butch, and Adam, everything she owned was either in the back of her Jeep or in a storage unit in town.

Next she pulled her suitcases out of the trunk and dragged them through the cabin. When she stepped into the room, she half expected to see Jack.

It felt as if he were still there, as if nothing had changed. She took the letter out of her pocket and set it on the bedside table, then sat on the bed and hugged his pillow to her chest. It still smelled like him.

She’d thought the cabin would feel different, empty, cold,
something
, but it didn’t. She closed her eyes to hold back the tears and cursed. She didn’t have time to sit and cry—not yet. No, she needed to get the car unloaded and her clothes unpacked. In her messenger bag, she had an SBA loan application to fill out and two newspapers’ worth of want ads to get through; she needed to find a job.

Kendall put Jack’s pillow back and smoothed out the wrinkles. She had to keep moving. If she kept going until she dropped, she might just be able to sleep. She was putting the groceries away when someone knocked on the door.

Jaime stood on the porch, several steps back from the door, when she opened it. “Are you still mad?”

“No.”

“Oh, good.” He pulled the flowers he held from behind his back. “Then these just changed from an I’m Sorry as Hell bouquet to a welcome-home bouquet. Can I come in?”

“Only if you help me unload the Jeep.”

“I’m on it.” Jaime smiled, handed her the flowers, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then jumped off the porch.

Kendall put away groceries, arranged the flowers in an old milk pitcher she found, and unpacked a box of kitchen equipment that the cabin had been missing. “Jaime, do you want to stay for dinner?”

He carried in her TV. “Sure. Are you going to get a satellite dish?”

“No, I won’t be here that long. I just thought I’d hook up my DVD player so I can at least watch movies.”

He set the TV on the coffee table. “Where do you want it?”

“I was going to see if there was a table somewhere to set it on temporarily.”

“Why? You’ve got the bracket taped right onto the back. I can hang it for you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to go and mess up the walls.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Jax won’t care. He just wants you to be comfortable. So, where do you want it?”

“I don’t know. On the wall across from the couch, maybe?”

“Is the toolbox still in the mudroom?”

“Unless Jack took it with him.”

“I doubt it. He didn’t take much.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Jaime shook his head. “You?”

“No, but, then, I didn’t expect to. How’s Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and gravy sound to you?”

“Like heaven.”

“Good. I think it’s a comfort food kind of night.” While she started dinner, Jaime found the toolbox, hung the TV, and hooked up her DVD player.

Everywhere she looked, she could see Jack. Every time the door opened, she found herself expecting him to walk through. She missed their conversations, she missed the way he always touched her, she missed how he used any excuse to kiss her—he’d kiss her hello when he walked into any room she occupied and kissed her good-bye even when he was just going out to get firewood.

She missed sex.

A lot.

She had dreamed about making love to Jack, and woke up all twitchy and frustrated. She’d never had hot sex dreams before she met him. Just thinking about him had her girl parts perking up. Damn, she felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs. She stuck her hands in the bowl to mix the meat and let out a frustrated growl.

“What’d I do now?” Jaime stuck his head in the doorway, and she noticed he left his body in the hall, well out of reach.

“Nothing, I was just thinking of Jack.”

“I guess the letter didn’t help, huh?”

She continued mixing the meat. Did everyone know about that damn letter?

“You did read the letter, didn’t you?”

She ignored him and turned the heat on under her skillet.

“Kendall?”

“What?” She grabbed a handful of meat and shaped it into a patty.

“You haven’t read the letter yet?”

She shook her head.

Jaime turned off the stove. “How come?”

Because it was safer to be mad than hurt. She had a feeling whatever Jack had to say in that letter would hurt even more than what David had said to her face. Jack knew her. He really knew her, and still he left. David . . . well, David didn’t seem to care about who she was, just what he wanted her to be. His leaving hadn’t hurt nearly as much. Which, when she thought about it, was pretty incredible. How could she fall so deeply in love in with Jack in just two weeks? How was that possible? A big, fat tear slid down her cheek. Damn, she really didn’t want to start crying.

Jaime pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t. My hands are all greasy.”

“I don’t care.” He rubbed her back. “Don’t you think not knowing is worse?”

“But once that genie’s out of the bottle, I can’t put him back.”

“Look, after you read it, if you want me to, I’ll go to Chicago and beat the crap out of him—I’ll just, you know, avoid his head.”

Kendall felt her face crack into a smile. “You’d do that for me? Even after I kicked you in the balls?”

“Yeah, why not? For a man, getting kicked in the balls is like giving birth is for a woman. The pain goes away, but you never forget it. I figure now I can hold my own at baby showers.”

That had her laughing. Picturing Jaime at a baby shower, regaling everyone with his experience of getting nailed in the nuts, put it over the top.

“Go wash your hands and read the letter while I finish
making dinner. Then, if you want, I’ll even buy ice cream and we can watch a movie.”

“A chick flick?”

He groaned. “Okay. I hope Jax’s letter does the trick, because I don’t think I can take a double feature.”

She went to the sink and washed her hands. She took her time drying them and looked around the kitchen. “Just make the patties, brown them on both sides, and then pour the sauce over them.” She pointed to the four-cup measuring cup she used to mix her special sauce. “Then add the mushrooms, and stick the whole thing in the oven. It’s already preheated. The potatoes should be done in about fifteen minutes. The masher is in the drawer; butter and half-and-half are in the fridge.”

“I got this. Go ahead. No more stalling.” He gave her a nudge toward the bedroom. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready. And no faking it either. I want a full report, young lady.”

Kendall didn’t see how she could get out of reading Jack’s letter and still have her pride, so she dragged her feet down the short hallway, took a deep breath, and stepped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Her gaze zeroed in on the envelope. Goose bumps sprang up on her arms, and she shivered. She grabbed the throw from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, hugging it tight to her chest, and swallowed hard, wishing she’d brought a bottle of wine. With a resolute sigh, she picked up the envelope and ran her finger over her name. Her hands shook, her heart raced, her skin prickled, and her throat tightened.

She bit her lip and blinked back tears while she slid her finger under the flap and unfolded the letter.

Thank you, sweetheart. I know if you’re reading this, it’s taken you awhile to decide to open it. I’m picturing you biting your lip, your brow furrowed, thinking about what an ass I am. I wanted to talk to you face-to-face and tell you I was leaving and explain my reasoning, but I’d have had to do it in front of your father, and as much as I love and respect Teddy, there are some things that are best left just between you and me.

I want you to understand why I felt I had to leave Harmony and go back to Chicago. Kendall, when I left Chicago, I was just going to ski for a week. That was in December. Like anyone in my position, I had a succession plan in place, but now, since the accident, since meeting you, I’m questioning my decision in that respect. I’m questioning myself.

I need to return because leaving without a backward glance smacks of running away. I might be a lot of things, but I’m no coward, and I’m not a quitter. I’m leaving Harmony because I can’t stay, not because I’m running. And, yes, there is a difference.

You’re still pissed as hell—I know. Don’t go shaking your head at me. I didn’t run away from you, remember? You’re the one who took off.

Yeah, I know you had a good reason. I really am sorry about that, but the day we met, when I heard you talk about me, I honestly didn’t know who that guy Jax was. I can see you rolling your eyes, but it’s true. I’d been pretending I was the same guy who hit that tree, but I wasn’t. When you
crashed into my life, I didn’t know who I was anymore. All I knew was that it was a relief not to have to pretend to be Jax. With you, I could just be. With you, I was Jack.

Sweetheart, if you know one thing, know this: nothing about our time together was a lie. Nothing.

I asked you once if you were happy where you were—with me—and you couldn’t answer. You needed more time. We both knew it.

You asked if I had a life to get back to, and I told you I had a job but no life. Now I wonder if I had a life, but I didn’t know how to live it. It’s a subtle difference, but I need to try living the life I have. I need to try it on for size and see if it fits, if I fit.

We both need time, sweetheart, so I’m giving you the time you need to figure out what you want your life to look like and decide if you really want me in it—all of me, even the part that’s still, and always will be, Jax Sullivan, the Grand Pooh-Bah of Harmony.

I’ll be back this spring to finish everything I started at the cabin. I hope you’ll decide to be a part of that.

Whatever you decide to do, please know I love you, Kendall, my gold-medal girl. I always will.

Jack

Kendall read Jack’s letter three times. She wanted to hate him for leaving, but she couldn’t. Hadn’t she said the very same things?

Jack needed to figure out who he was. He needed to try to combine the Jack she knew and loved with Jackson Finneus Sullivan III and see how this new person fit into his old life he’d yet to start living. She needed to put her plan in motion and live the life she’d imagined when she hiked on the ridge, and she needed to do it on her own. Sometimes you have to walk alone just to prove to yourself that you can, and Jack was giving her time to do that.