Winter Jacket: Finding Home (36 page)

“We could have that again,” I stated carefully. I watched as she continued to absently fiddle with my fingers. The way she had spoken before, it was like she was trying to work something out for herself rather than her words being aimed at me.

“Can we?” she questioned. “Or do you think things have changed too much for us to go back to how things used to be?”

I wanted to reassure her that we could get back to that place, but I wasn’t sure myself.

“Come here,” she beckoned to me.

I scooted closer in bed and my hand fell to her hipbone. I instinctively rolled her onto her back, and my mouth found the hollow of her pale throat. She tipped her head back and her body arched into mine with the motion. My knee wedged between hers and my upper thigh pressed against her panty-covered crotch. Her arms rounded me and her hands grabbed onto my backside to pull me harder against her core.

She arched into me and the breathy noises happening close to my ear made me grind harder into her. Even though I only wore sleep shorts and a t-shirt, I could feel the sweat accumulating in the small of my back. Things had quickly escalated from innocent snuggling.

I felt like a teenager with my first girlfriend, practically dry humping in Hunter’s bed. With Loryssa at school, we had the apartment to ourselves. The sensible part of my brain told me to go slow, to behave, but my body was on fire. I’d never been able to exercise caution when it came to this woman.

“Are we sure about that no sex rule?” I asked, feeling breathless. I was only half joking. I wanted to be good, to utilize a little willpower, but she was making it difficult.

Her mouth had fallen lax and her eyes were wide. I wanted to kiss her senseless, but she nodded before I could change her mind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It rained all the next day. Normally I hated the cold, dreary drizzle of early spring, but it was necessary to help erase the last signs of winter. Gone were the final, crusted snow banks more grey than white. Gone was the heavy layer of rock salt that ruined freshly washed cars and leather boots.

I had been staring out a kitchen window at my backyard where the young green shoots of tulips Hunter had once helped me plant were just starting to poke up out of the black earth. Spring in the Midwest never failed to amaze me. Winters were harsh and without mercy. Spring was a time for hope and renewal and rebirth—the perfect time perhaps for Hunter and me to have another chance.

A phone call from Troian pulled me from my thoughts. “Hey, what’s up?” I said in greeting.

“Your episode is on tonight. Are you having a viewing party with all your dorky friends?”

“It’s just me and Sylvia,” I admitted. “But I’m not sure I’ll even watch.”

“What? Why not?” Troian demanded.

“I don’t know.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “It feels kind of egotistical.”

“Don’t you read your books when you get a first printing from the publisher?”

“No. I cringe reading my own stuff once it’s in print. I like to pretend it doesn’t exist once it’s out there.”

“How are we friends when you’re so weird?” Troian wondered aloud.

“Good question.”

I was proud of the work I had put into my episode from pitch to finished shooting script, but in truth I was considering not watching the episode because of what it represented. If I had never been blinded by ambition to the things that really mattered, it would have saved me an ocean of heartache. A large part of me wanted to entirely forget that part of my life so I could move forward, hopefully towards a future that included Hunter.

“I want you to give yourself a pass tonight from being modest or humble or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” Troian instructed. Watch your episode. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said unconvincingly.

“I’m calling you after the episode, and I expect a detailed report.”

I laughed at that. “Okay, okay,” I finally conceded. “I’ll watch.”

“Good.”

“How’s work been lately?” I asked. Troian and I had probably talked more since I’d been back than when I’d worked for her, but we hadn’t talked much about her job since I’d been so preoccupied with all things Hunter. “It’s almost time for the show to go on hiatus, right?”

“Uh huh. I’m set on scripts for the rest of the season, so we just have to finish shooting the few final episodes. And then I get two glorious months of just me and Nik time.”

“That’s awesome. I hope you’re actually planning on taking the time off.”

“Nik’s already informed me that she’s limiting my electronic gadget time. She’ll make sure I take it easy.”

“Good. You both deserve a break.”

“Hey, speaking of which, we’re thinking of coming back to town for a week or so during hiatus. Know of anyone with a second bedroom where we could crash?”

“I might, as long as you guys don’t use my guest room for a second honeymoon,” I teased.

“Whatever,” Troian scoffed. “Nik told me to ask, but I’d rather stay at a hotel so we don’t have to listen to you and Hunter.”

I made a noise into the phone’s receiver, a mix between a cough and a grumble.

“What?” Troian challenged. “I know you two are screwing again.”

“We’re not,” I insisted.

“You had sex with her in a closet a few weeks ago. Are you back to ‘taking it slow’ now?” she snorted.

“What if we are?” I bristled.

“Hey, it’s your life,” Troian backed down. “You know I’m only ever looking out for your happiness.

“I know. But you’ve still got a lot of opinions for someone just interested in my happiness.”

“Oh, and you’ll be happy to hear that Sonja the intern just turned in a spec script for a future episode of the show.”

“Oh yeah? Good for her.” It was an odd transition from Hunter to Sonja; it made me wonder if Nik had said something to Troian about the night of the network party. Troian wasn’t the type to not needle me about kissing a student intern though, so I suspected Nik had kept my secret.

“I haven’t given her any notes yet, but it looks solid, especially for her first try. You might be easier to replace than I thought.”

“Thanks,” I snorted.

“But, seriously, Bookie. Your episode turned out really well. It might be my favorite from the entire season. And that’s saying something considering I wrote half the scripts. I want you to grab yourself a beer, get comfy on the couch, and allow yourself to feel proud about this thing you did.”

“You’re awfully persuasive.”

“You’re all just lucky I decide to use my powers for Good,” she chuckled. “Now remember, I expect you to have good notes when I call back.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

We ended the call and I went in search of something to drink. When I made it to the couch with the cat tucked under one arm and a bottle of beer in the other, the opening theme song for the show was playing. In the previous episode, Paige’s father had just died, only she’d discovered that he wasn’t her birth father. In this dystopian world, humans and mutants reportedly co-existed, but it better resembled a cast system with humans in the top tier and mutants below them. Interspecies relationships were officially forbidden, and children that resulted from those unions were considered mutants, despite their human lineage. It could have been considered too heavy topically for our target demographic, but we could get away with it because of the sci-fi genre. I’d suggested we could also get away with having a bisexual lead character, but the network wasn’t convinced.

Angry and confused at the beginning of the episode, Paige runs off to the mutant quarters—a place she isn’t supposed to be. There, she runs into Hunter who consoles her about her father’s death. In a poignant scene late in the episode, the two end up talking about the moon.

I drained the rest of my beer. I’d forgotten about this scene.

My episode, lucky number thirteen in the season, wasn’t the introduction of the Hunter character, but it was the introduction of him as a potential romance for Paige. The network had decided for us that Hunter’s character would be male. They’d thought it was too risky to introduce a queer storyline in the first season. They had conceded, however, that a gay best friend character could be introduced later in the series.

At the end of the episode, the two are attacked by desperate, mutant thugs; Hunter tries to fight them off and protect Paige, but she ends up protecting them both when an aspect of her mutant powers makes itself known. The remainder of the season would follow Paige as she tried to figure out what was happening to her and how to control and hide her new abilities from others. In the season finale her mother discovers Paige’s secret and reveals that her birth father was actually a mutant.

Troian had asked me to write the episode because I’d been the one who’d come up with the idea to make Paige part mutant, but she’d also charged me with the task of introducing the secondary romance subplot. Guillen couldn’t be trusted; he’d only cause things to explode or catch on fire. Edward was a man—which Troian said meant he couldn’t write a love story, Aviva was too young, and Gloria was walking a thin line based on her inability to write anything that Troian remotely liked. Part of me had wondered at the time if it had all been a ruse to reboot my emotional system and to do away with the robotic, unfeeling part of me.

Lightning illuminated the living room, followed immediately by a crack of thunder. From the couch cushion beside me, Sylvia jerked to attention and scampered out of the room.

“It’s just a little weather, you baby,” I called after her.

The overhead lights dimmed momentarily before shutting off entirely along with all the other electrical devices in my house.

“Great.”

I used the flashlight app on my cell phone to dig around the kitchen drawers for candles and matches or at least a flashlight that wouldn’t drain my phone’s battery. Before I could find anything, there was a brisk knock on my front door.

I momentarily abandoned my search to see who it might be. Wearing a slightly damp hooded sweatshirt and hair curling at her temples, Hunter looked more beautiful than ever.

“I think your doorbell’s broken,” she observed.

“The power went out again. Is everything okay?” I looked beyond her and saw her car parked out front. At least she’d had the sense to drive instead of running in a monsoon this time.

“I saw tonight’s episode.”

My eyes widened. “Oh.”

She walked through the open front door. “Hunter’s a boy.”

“And a mutant,” I added, shutting the door behind her.

She turned on her heel to face me. “I caught that bit,” she said, lips ever so slightly lilting. “And the part about the moon. That was you, wasn’t it?”

In the original pitch meeting for my episode, Paige’s secondary love interest hadn’t existed yet—in the original script, Paige had been on her own when the mutants attacked. Hunter and the reference to the moon had been later additions as the episode’s script had evolved.

I swallowed at the lump that had risen in my throat. “I didn’t know you watched the show.” She had mentioned at Troi and Nik’s wedding that she’d seen the pilot, but she wasn’t in the show’s targeted demographic.

“I’ve watched every episode,” she admitted. “I watched when Paige’s boyfriend took her to an aquarium. I watched when a secret admirer set up a scavenger hunt for her birthday. And don’t think I didn’t notice that Paige’s best friend, Ajax, refuses to take off his winter jacket.”

As she listed off the contributions I’d made to specific episodes, it occurred to me how I’d unintentionally written our relationship into the show. I’d often said it was dangerous to date a writer.

“All coincidences,” I said weakly.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to call you afterwards; I didn’t know if I should be angry or flattered.” She shook her head. “It felt like the show was one giant love letter. And then tonight … tonight with the moon …”

I didn’t know if I should apologize. I couldn’t read her tone or her body language.

“I knew you’d do well out there,” she continued. “You exceed at everything you do. But I think a part of me wanted you to fail.”

I blinked rapidly. “Why would you want that?”

“So you’d come back to me without any regrets. You would have given this writing thing a shot and you’d come back, satisfied that you’d given it a chance, but that ultimately it wasn’t for you.”