Something Worth Saving (8 page)

His left hand reached between us, his right firmly on my ass, holding me up just enough to slide inside me. Just as his mouth dragged down my jaw, his body trembled. Callused hardworking hands that fought to save people day in and day out moved over my thighs, spreading them a little wider as he filled me.

Heaven. Fucking heaven was what this was like. I was sure of it. And if this wasn’t heaven, it’s what I wanted it to be like.

“Fuck, Aubrey . . . ” Jace shuddered, his body trembling as I slid down him all the way, taking all of him inside me. “You’re so fucking wet . . . ” His feet moved, and his buckle clanked together below as his legs fought to find something hard to brace himself against and gain the leverage he needed to push up. When he did, he moved me a little, his head falling back against the window, his black hat shadowing his face. I didn’t have to see it to know the sensation he was feeling.

His motions threw me into his fire, flames exploding around me, over us.

I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and rode him to the beats of Nine Inch Nails. His hands stayed on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh with each thrust. No words were really spoken; we needed this too badly.

After a moment, his left hand moved to my neck, wrapping around it, his thumb on one side, his fingers on the other with just the slightest pressure. It was enough that I felt the blood flow leave, but not enough that I couldn’t breathe. Strangely erotic, with me moaning, begging him to fuck me harder, give me everything he had to give.

With a grunt, his hips raised and his right hand pushed me down hard on his lap, filling me completely. He was fucking me, all right.

Gasping, Jace moved both hands behind my back and then curled them over the tops of my shoulders, the leverage he needed. When I pushed up on my knees, he slammed me down, working together.

I was seriously starting to get sweaty in this truck, and glad I was wearing deodorant. The windows were fogging up, both of us starting to pant. Luckily, when we pulled over he’d rolled down his window, or we would be suffocating from the lack of oxygen in the truck’s cab.

He gripped my ass firmly, lifting it to meet his hips every time he pushed up. “Fuck, honey,” he cried into my hair, pushing it to the side, his hands tangling in it.

I exhaled noisily, close to a moan. Groaning again, he moved his hands to grab my hips, pushing me down on his lap, never breaking the contact between our lips. And then, a cake topper, he took my lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it, causing me to moan again.

Always loved that.

I was panting, he was cursing. I was moaning, he was grunting. As he shifted me slightly, I felt the muscles in his thighs stiffen, and I knew what was happening.

A familiar warmth rushed to the surface, pulling at my stomach, the backs of my legs, and the tops of my feet.

Six minutes and thirteen seconds of “Closer” was all it took.

“Holy fuck,” he said, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “That was sexy.” His hands fell to his sides before reaching up and starting the truck. The diesel rumbled to life.

Reaching for the shredded fabric that used to be my panties, I smiled to myself. “That it was.”

T
HE DRIVE
home was quiet and dark, the only light inside the truck coming from the street lamps and the occasional car as it passed by. Do you ever close your eyes and then open them and wonder if anything has changed in that split second?

You’d be amazed what could.

Looking over at Jace, I saw that his chin was tucked toward his chest, his eyes on the road. His right hand hung over the steering wheel, and his left arm rested on the edge of the door panel as he ran his knuckles slowly across his lower lip and jaw, contemplating.

Contemplating what, I wasn’t sure, but I knew his mood had changed from the moment when he was moaning my name.

Back at our apartment, when I came into the bedroom I saw Jace shirtless, facing the wall. My eyes roamed his naked back and the tattoo of the Maltese cross between his shoulder blades.

“Did you have fun?” He turned around, and my eyes watched his hands as they fell to the button of his jeans and removed the last remaining clothing. Then I caught sight of the tattoo he bore across his heart.

Smiling, I remembered the day we got that, the day I found out I was pregnant with Gracie.

Lost in a memory, I knew he was waiting for my answer.

His eyes didn’t leave mine as I answered. “I did,” I breathed, my eyes heavy from the day.

He gave me a tight nod along with the smile that tugged at his lips.

He said nothing more as he slipped into bed, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed from the time we parted in the hall and I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and now.

Seeing my phone on the nightstand, knowing I’d left it on the table, I looked over at him once I was in bed beside him.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the ceiling, eyes fixed and restless.

“What’s wrong?” I said, testing the air.

Jace sniffed, an aggravated gesture. His eyes shifted toward me briefly before darting back to the ceiling. “Your mom called when you were in the bathroom.”

“Oh . . . ” I let out the breath I was holding.

“She wanted to know if you had a nice time with Ridley earlier.”

Just my fucking luck these days.

Engine 10, ladder 1 from command – activate a second alarm. Staging area has been established on the corner.

Dispatch to command, alarm activated. Squad 4 en route for suspicious vehicle. They’ll report to command.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Aubrey

W
HAT WAS
this shit?

First Ridley and now my mother.

If you knew my mother at all, you would know that she has the worst fucking timing of anyone. Ridley was a close second behind her.

When I woke up that morning, Jace was gone. He’d left a note saying he’d gone to the gym, and that left me in bed, questioning what had gone wrong the night before. We went from a good morning, shaky night, and hot sex to silence with heavy shoulders that felt the weight of what was never said.

I went to bed without saying anything more, the way I usually do.

Jace hated that Ridley was in town. And I could understand that. There was a good part of Jace that was jealous of Ridley in many ways. When we were growing up we had plans, and my mom changed those. Parts of myself I thought for sure would only be shared with Jace for the first time were instead shared with Ridley.

Jace wasn’t exactly pleased by that.

But what he despised more was that my mother called that same night and had the nerve to ask him if Ridley had stopped by the shop.

I think you can understand why I didn’t exactly get along with my mother from the few hints I’ve dropped so far. No one got along with her, unless you were Jim, Jack, or Jameson and came in a bottle.

By now you’re probably wondering, “What’s the deal with Georgia Gillian?”

Am I right?

Hell, most people wonder what her deal is, and when you find out, you realize it’s not that interesting. Just another woman fallen victim to self-pity, if you ask me. There were so many times, so many opportunities that she could have used to change her ways, but no, she never did.

I often think about what made her the way she was, and the only answer I had was her mother Gale. The woman was off her rocker.

She used my mother for her own defenses, neglected her, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she abused her, too. I’m not sure why my mom chose to have kids, but she did. She was seventeen when she got pregnant with me. Who the father was, she had no idea.

I didn’t know my dad. Never had. Neither did Lauren. We did know they weren’t the same man, as we looked quite a bit different.

We had a few father figures around from time to time, but never any that made an impression.

Why does that matter?

Because after a while it became an endless cycle for Georgia to be anything but what her mother was like. That’s just letting the corrupt lead the depraved, if you ask me.

Lauren and I saw past that pretty easily somewhere between the move to Boise and the third move into another trailer park with a different guy after only being there a year. When the men were changed as often as the sheets, we understood. She was trying to fix her own faults by using men and letting them use her.

In the end in only hurt Lauren and me, because we never had a childhood, and now that we were trying to salvage an adulthood, she was trying to ruin that, too, by coming back.

Depressed for good reason, she was never happy that I could remember unless she was drunk. It was her way of numbing the pain.

I always heard my mom say, “If only I had . . . ” followed directly by another possession she needed or a man she wished would go out with her.

But what happened when she finally had what she needed? Was she happy?

No. There was always something else.

We want these things, but what happens when we get them? Are they what we imagined?

Usually not. It can go both ways, though.

Nonetheless, my mother’s views on just about everything are distorted and fucked up beyond belief.

She did teach me a few valuable lessons about life, though. She taught me that I never wanted to be like her.

For the most part, I didn’t think I was. Not exactly a stellar parent, but I liked to think I was doing pretty well. Sure, my kids walked all over me, but you always saw them smiling and laughing. They were happy kids.

Of course there were times when I wanted my children to stop talking. Was it wrong of me to want some peace and quiet?

No. It was human.

We all needed alone time. Men just got it more often. At least that was my theory. When Jace had a day off, the kids were with Lauren, as his days off usually fell during the week.

Me?

I wasn’t allowed that luxury, as Lauren, bless her crazy heart, needed a day off sometime.

There were days when I felt like the worst mother in the world. I felt like everything I did was wrong and would cause some kind of irrevocable damage to my kids.

The truth was, I was sure most mothers felt like that. Even Brooke, who seemed as if she could do no wrong as a person. She had faults, too, even if she appeared perfect.

In the beginning, you know those wonderful baby moments with a peaceful baby in your arms?

We never had that. It was more or less, “Please, for the love of God, go to sleep!”

Despite the rocky start, I tend to think they were pretty good kids.

They’ve taught me things I never thought a child could teach you.

There are things about Gracie I adore. The way she watches me, mimics everything I do, and when I’m not looking, she’s showing her independence. I love the way she thinks deeply and loves even deeper.

Jayden is like nothing I’ve ever seen. A little boy to the core, rough but loving, big blue eyes and a smile that covers his entire face. A reminder that his daddy is present in him in every way.

I wanted to give them a better childhood, with stability and the surety that they wouldn’t have to move around like I did. It’s one reason why I didn’t push Jace into anything, because I thought for sure if I pushed, he’d want to leave me and what would that do to my kids?

What if he didn’t want to marry me?

Where would that leave us?

Given the childhood I had, should this not work out between Jace and me, the idea of waking up in another city again was terrifying.

I didn’t have the easiest childhood. I’m sure you’ve picked that up by now. The thing was, when I was fifteen and I met Ridley, I didn’t exactly have many friends. We moved around too much for that. So when I met him, I gravitated to him because he was a friend. When most girls called me a slut or fat, or whatever they felt like doing to me, Ridley was there for me. I wasn’t fat, as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t skinny, either. Just because I wore a size nine by no means meant that I was fat. It just meant I wasn’t rail thin like most of the other girls at Borah High School.