Lifers (18 page)

Torrey

He looked haunted this morning when he saw me, like he’d seen a ghost. I felt horrible that I’d left him with the impression that I couldn’t cope with what he’d told me.

I snuggled into him more, enjoying the unusual sensation of cuddling up to a guy that I’d had sex with. I was more used to the wham bam thank you ma’am variety, and waking up alone again in the morning. Although, to be fair, until now, that was pretty much all I’d wanted in a guy, especially recently. Get laid, get gone. Don’t get attached.

Emotional connection had been anathema to me since Jeremy—Jem—when I was 18. I thought I’d been in love, but it wasn’t a quarter of what I felt for this damaged man sitting in silence next to me. The thought scared me, but not enough that I wouldn’t see where this might go.

It was real. He was real, and maybe I could stop running. Maybe.

At the same time, I had to admit to myself that he’d scared me last night. Not with his revelation of what had happened to Mikey, but with the cold certainty of having wanted to kill a man when he was in juvie.

A shiver of fear had passed through me. I knew what Jordan was trying to tell me: he believed that he was a killer.

But wasn’t that inside all of us? Kill or be killed? That was the question we could each ask ourselves in our darkest hours: what would I be prepared to die for? What would I be prepared to kill for?

I couldn’t answer that.

I realized, that despite everything he’d said, everything he’d told me, I’d crossed a line with Jordan, and surprisingly, I was okay with it.

I patted his thigh and stood up.

“I have some chores to do before I start this new job in a couple of days, but do you want to do something after you get off work?”

His smile was like the sun coming out.

“Maybe we could go to the bay again,” I hinted, raising my eyebrows. “Get a swim in this time? Don’t freak out on me—it’s not a date, just two friends going swimming.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he said, a grin splitting his face.

“Okay, well I’ll meet you here and you can drive us. I don’t want to risk taking the Princess over those dunes.” I threw him a sly glance. “And if you’re all sweaty from work,” I said, trying not to lick my lips, “a nice cooling swim will feel even better. Don’t bother about a swimsuit.”

He groaned, and I winked at him.

Then I picked up the two coffee mugs and left him sitting on the step, looking stunned.

Jordan was waiting for me when I arrived back at the Rectory later that afternoon. I’d spent the day arguing on the phone with my bank, trying to extend my overdraft. I may have also treated myself to a mani-pedi, which I totally couldn’t afford, but totally deserved.

Jordan’s anxious look vanished as soon as he saw the Princess pulling into the driveway.

He jumped out of his truck and bent down at my window. He looked like he was about to kiss me, but then he straightened up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave me a shy smile instead.

I took the initiative and climbed out of the car, reaching up to brush a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hi! You ready to go?”

“Sure am, sweetheart.”

“Great. So, are you going to let me drive your truck?”

He looked surprised then shrugged his shoulders.

“I guess you can only die once.”

His smile dropped immediately, and this time it was obvious that he was beating himself up for the choice of words.

“Jordan,” I said, catching hold of his hand, “it’s just a saying. Like me saying, ‘who died and put you in charge’. People say stuff like that all the time. You’ve got to quit being so sensitive about it or it’ll hurt you every time—and I know I don’t want to do that.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, quietly. “How am I supposed to
not
feel this stuff?”

It was a good question.

“Maybe you can try to forgive yourself, even just a little bit.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

I sighed. We were going in circles.

“Okay, well, I just want you to know that I’m sorry for all the random times that I’ve hurt your feelings. And don’t ask me to say that again because I don’t make a habit of apologizing!”

That got a small smile.

He helped me up into the truck and buckled himself nervously into the passenger seat.

I swear his truck was filled with kangaroo gas, because we bumped and hopped all the way to the bay. I don’t think Jordan breathed once the entire ride.

It was a beautiful day with a perfect blue sky. I decided I could really get used to lazy afternoons like this.

I laid out the blanket and turned to find Jordan’s eyes fixed on my body. I’d never had a man look at me with such intense desire.

But then he seemed to give himself a mental shake.

“I’m gonna take a swim,” he said, looking out toward the clear horizon. “Join me?”

“Nah. I’m just going to sit here and ogle you for a while,” I said. “You know, just enjoy the view.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning.

He pulled off his t-shirt then neatly folded it up and placed it on the blanket. He shrugged when he saw me staring at him in disbelief.

“Old habits,” he said, sheepishly.

He turned away from me and dropped his shorts.

My own private strip show. Sigh. That man could have made a fortune doing that for hen parties. But this show was all for me. Life was gooood.

He smirked when he saw me staring at his ass.

“I haven’t got a swimsuit, like you said.”

Then he walked into the sea.

He was so graceful, cutting through the water, moving as easily as if the ocean was his natural environment. It seemed wrong that he’d been caged for so long. What did it do to a person to be limited to a 10 x 8 foot cell for years?

I sat quietly in the sunshine, wondering how free he was from the cages of his own mind. I knew they still tortured him; I just didn’t know to what extent.

I lay down on my side, watching him in the distance.

I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up he was sitting next to me, water still glistening on his shoulders. And he was wearing his shorts again.

As soon as he saw that I was awake, he leaned down and kissed me. A long, slow, passionate kiss.

Strangely enough, I didn’t get my swim that afternoon either, instead spending the time learning his body.

By evening, the temperature had fallen, and I shivered from the slight breeze that had sprung up. It would be time to go home soon. The thought dimmed my enjoyment of the beautiful sunset.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“A little. But I have an idea about how you can warm me up again,” I teased.

His lips lifted in a smile.

“Oh yeah? Maybe you could enlighten me, Miss Delaney, because I surely don’t know what you mean.”

“Y’all one of those smooth talkin’ so’thern boys Ah heerd about?” I giggled, trying to capture his Rhett Butler meets Matthew McConaughey accent.

“That is a terrible renderin’ of my accent, Miss Delaney. I might just have to kiss it off of those delicious lips of yours.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” I shouted, leaping to my feet and running helter-skelter toward the water.

I’d splashed up to my ankles only to realize it was a helluva lot colder than I’d expected, when Jordan caught me around my waist and we both crashed into the ocean.

“Holy shit!” I coughed. “That’s freakin’ cold!”

He laughed loudly. “And you were expectin’ what, exactly? You were shiverin’ in my nice warm arms two minutes ago and you thought the water was goin’ to be warmer?

He shook his head like a wet dog, showering me with droplets.

“Damn, woman! I’m freezin’ my ass off in here. Are you tryin’ to end this night for good?”

I scrambled to my feet, using his firm body to lever myself up.

“Okay, I have to admit that wasn’t one of my better ideas.”

“Oh, hell, no!” he laughed. “Skinny dippin’ with you was definitely on my to-do list.”

“Why, Mr. Kane! Don’t tell me you’ve been having improper thoughts about me.”

“Since the first day I saw you, sweetheart,” he said, a happy smile lighting up his beautiful eyes. “And what with havin’ a room to myself for the first time in eight years, I have to say I’ve been chokin’ the chicken pretty hard every night.”

I spluttered out a laugh. “‘Choking the chicken’? Really! Because that conjures up all sorts of bizarre images of feathers and chicken skin, none of which are a turn on. I mean, generally speaking, the thought of you playing some one-handed baseball would be getting me all hot and sweaty but…”

“Wait, what? You tellin’ me that
you’ve
been having improper thoughts about me, Miss Delaney?”

“God, yes! The day you walked into the Busy Bee Diner, I was thinking up a plan to have my wicked way with you.”

His happy smile dimmed as we both thought back to that day.

“Hey! Don’t let the fuckers grind you down. Like I said, a few more months and your parole will be finished, then you can get the hell away—for good.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, softly. “I don’t deserve to feel anythin’ other than shit for what I’ve done.”

I slapped him hard across the face, and he staggered back.

“I told you I’d hit you if you talked crap like that again. Look, I didn’t know Mikey…”

“No, you didn’t!” he said, harshly.

“Well, everyone keeps telling me what a great guy he was.”

“That’s true, he was!”

“Yeah? So you think this ‘great guy’,” I shouted, using bitchy air quotes with my hands, “do you think this ‘great guy’ who loved you would want you to be so fucking miserable every day for the rest of your life?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” he muttered.

“Oh, hell. Is that the best you’ve got? I don’t know what it’s like? Well, enlighten me, shit head!”

I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far, because he splashed out of the water and stalked back up the beach.

Damn, that was a fine ass he had. I’d have to study that more later. But for now I was curious as to what answer he’d come up with, other than walking away like some sullen teenager.

But when I got back to our picnic area, he was sitting on the blanket, all hunched up.

I immediately sat next to him and put both my arms around his waist, leaning my chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t know how to be anythin’ else,” he whispered. “I’ve been the fuck up all of my life. I know it sounds dumb, but I know who I am here—the loser, the guy who killed his brother.” He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know who I’ll be if I leave.”

“Jordan,” I said, kissing his shoulder gently, “you can be whoever you want to be. You’ve got to take a chance on life. Yeah, you’ll get shit thrown at you, but there’s more to you than the sum of your history, more waiting for you than this small town. You have a good heart, and if you let people get to know you, they’ll see that for themselves.”

His head hung down, but when he looked up again, his icy expression was back and I shivered. This time it wasn’t because of the temperature.

“Why do you even care, Torrey?” he sneered. “I’m not your problem. I’m just another in a long list of guys that you’ve screwed.”

Ouch.
I wasn’t expecting that. I let my arms drop away from him and leaned back on my hands.

“Well, good to know what you think of me. Guess my blunt talking rubbed off on you after all.”

Suddenly, his mood shifted again, and he looked remorseful.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. That came out all wrong.”

“No shit, Sherlock! You know, you don’t have to be a jerk about it. I just happen to like sex, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. But people can be awfully judgmental. Frankly, I didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

“Oh, right, I’ve got it now,” he said, angrily. “You thought the ex-con would have lower standards—a no-questions-asked fuck.”

“You can be a real asshole. Fuck you, Jordan!”

I pulled on my shorts and tank top, not caring that my bra was buried somewhere in the sand.

Jordan watched me without moving. I resisted the urge to kick sand in his face. I knew he was lashing out at me because he was hurting and scared, but that didn’t mean I had to stick around and be his patsy.

Damn, I wished I’d come in my own car. The jerk-off asshole looked like he was going to let me walk home. And I
still
couldn’t find my flip-flops. Hot tears pricked behind my eyes.
Oh, no way!
I was
not
going to let that asswipe make me cry. I promised myself a long time ago that I would not be shedding tears over some guy again.

I started walking, and when he realized I was walking straight past his stupid truck, he finally got the picture.

“Torrey, wait!”

“Go fuck yourself!”

I heard him scrabbling around behind me, so I guessed he was pulling on his pants. I stomped up the dirt road, cursing when a sharp stone dug into the soft pad of my foot. Damn, this was going to be a long walk.