Chapter 19
JJ
“He was off like a herd of turtles.”
~ Grandma Dixie
Staring up at the ceiling in my childhood bedroom, I watched the shadow from the old oak tree outside the window sway as the summer breeze blew the tree’s leaves. I’d decided that, after three hours of tossing and turning, I should give up on sleeping any time soon. My head was running like it was training for the New York City Marathon, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to slow it down.
Add to that the fact that I hadn’t slept in a twin bed in God only knew how long and I didn’t have a chance in hell of getting a good night’s sleep. When my mom had insisted that I stay there until the Mason place was “livable,” I’d resisted. I’d planned on camping out on one of my brothers’ couches. Hell, I had enough to choose from. None of my siblings lived on the farm. They all had their own places.
Some of them lived alone, and some lived together. Like Trace and Travis, who had a small farmhouse close to Circle M, where they’d been working for the past few years. Jackson, Beau, and Cooper all shared a large ranch-style house not two miles from the farm. Sawyer and Wyatt, the two oldest Briggs boys, had their own houses. As did Harmony. In fact, she even had a guest room with a queen-size bed, if memory served.
Bunking with my siblings for a week or two while I made the old farmhouse I’d purchased habitable was one thing. Truth be told, I’d actually looked forward to getting in some good, old-fashioned brother–or sister—bonding time. Being back in my old bedroom, which I’d shared with Beau growing up and, from all appearances, had not been changed a bit, was not how I’d seen myself spending the next few weeks. But I’d learned long ago: When Dolly Briggs decided something regarding her children or her husband, resistance was futile.
When I sat up, my legs fell over the side of the bed, and I scrubbed my hands over my face. Leaning my head to the side, I tried to stretch out the crick that had taken up residence in my neck sometime over the last few hours. Physical therapy had been painful, and I’d never looked forward to it, but damn, I’d never missed my PT’s torture before like I did right now. That fiery redhead had caused me more pain in the three months I’d worked with her than I’d ever experienced. But Krista was also damn good at what she did. She was my publicist Jessie’s little sister, and she’d kept her promise to both me and her sister to get me back on the mound.
And I could be—if I wanted to be. But I didn’t, and that lack of desire had a lot to do with another fiery redhead. One who, for the first time in my life, was a complete mystery to me when it came to what she was thinking or feeling. I reached for my cell phone, but I stopped myself when I saw the time. It was almost one in the morning.
All night, I’d come up with reasons (read: excuses) as to why I shouldn’t call her. If I was being real with myself, I hadn’t done it for two reasons: First, the conversation I’d had with my mom kept playing in my head. It was driving me crazy.
Was my plan and thinking really that “boneheaded”?
Earlier that morning, I would have answered that question with an unequivocal, “No.” I would have confidently defended my actions. Now…I wasn’t so sure.
These past few weeks, I’d played out the scenario of Destiny finding out I was back in town, to stay, hundreds of times in my head. But I was no psychic, because none, not even one, of the hundreds of scenes my imagination had invented had happened. Not in a million years would I have guessed that she would have reacted the way she had. I’d thought I knew the girl, really knew her. Now, I was second-guessing myself.
Which brought us to the second reason I hadn’t called or texted her. I was unsure of her feelings—and that was scary as shit.
“Uggh,” I groaned as I fell back into my old bed, the springs creaking in protest.
How many nights had I lain in this very bed and tried to deny the feelings I had for Destiny? Too many—that was for damn sure. Now, I was more than just accepting them; I was ready to act on them. And I didn’t feel any less confused and frustrated than I had when I’d been fighting them tooth and nail.
At least, when I’d been doing everything in my power to ignore, suppress, and avoid all of my feelings, I’d been sure of her feelings. My mom pointing out that the torch Destiny had been carrying for me burned “brighter and longer” than what I’d felt for her had been true. Well…it had been until now. As much as I’d been trying to convince myself that she was just in shock and needed time to process, there was a nagging feeling in my gut now that my big plan to have everything done so that it wasn’t up for discussion and Destiny couldn’t try to talk me out of it—well, it might not have been the brightest thing to do.
Questions were buzzing in my head like bees around a hive filled with honey.
How did Destiny feel?
Not a clue.
Was she pissed at me?
Probably.
Was she happy I was home?
Hopefully.
Had I screwed up by not calling her every day to tell her how much I’d messed up and that I wanted to be with her and only her?
It’s looking more and more like that would have been the smarter move.
What was I going to do to fix it?
Call her, you idiot.
Rising back to a seated position, I picked my phone up once again, and before I could talk myself out of it, I scrolled through my contacts and then pressed her number. The screen lit up with the picture I had taken—unbeknownst to the subject—of Destiny at her cupcake stand—after I’d punched Brady out.
She was leaning against the table, her head was tilted back, and she was laughing. The sun was shining through her golden-red hair, and her creamy skin looked like she’d been sprinkled in sparkling diamond dust. She was an angel. Well, all except her curves. From the seductive slope of her neck, to the mouth-watering, rounded globes of her breasts, to the tantalizing dip at her waist just before it flared out to her hips… Those curves were sinful, not angelic.
“Hello.” Destiny’s raspy voice sounded far away.
The phone almost slipped through my fingers in my attempt to hastily bring it to my ear.
Real smooth, Casanova.
I couldn’t believe I’d lost all sense of what I’d been doing because her picture had appeared on my screen. Shifting on the bed, I had to rearrange my junk because it had grown to a decent half-chub in the few seconds it had taken Destiny to answer.
Destiny’s voice sounded again. “Hello.”
Now that the phone was up to my ear, I could hear the confusion and sleepiness in it.
Shit.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“JJ?” she questioned, her voice still scratchy.
“Yeah, it’s me, Pip. Go back to bed.”
“Are you okay?”
The genuine concern in her voice caused an unwanted tension in my chest. This girl was it for me. I just wasn’t sure how to show her that, show her how much she meant to me.
“JJ, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assured her, my voice strained from the overwhelming emotions rising up in me so fast that they were practically choking me.
I felt raw. Vulnerable. I wasn’t used to this feeling, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. My first instinct was to push it down, avoid it, suppress it—hell, just like I’d always done with my feelings for Destiny. But, even though ninety-nine percent of the time I trusted my own instincts, this was the rare exception when I should ignore my internal protective signals. I had to if Destiny and I were going to have a shot at something real.
“I was calling because… I just… I needed to hear your voice.”
The silence on the other end of the phone seemed to drag on forever. Every sound in my bedroom seemed amplified as I waited for her response. The crickets outside chirping, my own breath, the pounding of my heart were all playing like a soundtrack.
“Oh,” Destiny breathed.
“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow. Or, I guess, tonight.”
She was working a shift at the Spoon later, but I wanted to see her. Sure, I could have gone down and had lunch, but I wanted more than that.
“Um…I don’t… What day is it?”
Her sleepy confusion made me smile.
“It’s Tuesday,” I said.
She let out a sigh. I couldn’t tell whether it was relief or frustration before she said, “I can’t.”
“You can’t?” I repeated lamely.
“No. I have plans,” she stated firmly. All traces of the soft and sweet Destiny were now gone.
Jealousy I hadn’t known I possessed filled me faster than a contestant on speed would fill their cart on Supermarket Sweep. She had “plans.” I took a deep breath and I rolled my shoulders as I blew it out. The last thing this late-night phone call needed was to be turned into a ménage trois with the appearance of the green-eyed monster.
“Okay,” I said as calmly as I possibly could. “Then let me take you for a picnic down at the river tomorrow.”
It was a statement, not a question, but apparently, Destiny didn’t see it that way.
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t answer now. Just think about it, and I’ll be outside the Spoon at the end of your shift. If you want to go—great. If not—no harm, no foul.”
I took her silence as agreement and figured I oughta quit while I was ahead.
“Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.”
“You too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be dreaming of your delicious buns.”
There was a smile in her voice as she said, “Wow. I can’t believe Harmony actually shared my cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh, yeah. Those were good too.” I disconnected the call before she could say anything else.
As I set the phone back on the nightstand, I knew that my mom was right. I had teased Destiny all the time while we were growin’ up, and old habits did die hard.
Lying back on the bed, I closed my eyes, and for the first time since I’d stepped back into the Wishing Well city limits, I was at peace. I was home, and it didn’t matter what it took, even if it was being raw and vulnerable. I was going to get my girl.