Anything for You

“Yes. Is it working?”

She shrugged. “A little. It smells fantastic.”

“Jess,” he said quietly, “you didn’t like seeing me with someone else. So be with me.”

She huffed. “I have no problem with you being with someone else, Connor. If you like her, that’s great. I’m glad.”

“You almost sound sincere.”

“I am,” she said.

“Liar.”

The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. He kept looking at her. The pulse in her neck was visible. And fast.

“She was right, you know,” he murmured. “I am still hung up on you.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“No, you’re not.” He went toward her and took each of her hands in his. She swallowed again, her cheeks pinkening. “Jessica,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She shivered. Didn’t pull away. “Be my girlfriend.” Kissed her jaw, then just below her ear. “You have to. I made you lasagna.” Her skin smelled like lemons and vanilla.

“I can’t... You shouldn’t...”

“Lasagna, Jess. All those layers. Homemade pasta.”

She laughed a little. “Connor, I’m sorry. I wish I could... I wish you were still with her. Your girlfriend.”

“I don’t.”

The comment seemed to hit her where she lived, because her beautiful green eyes softened, and her gaze fell to his mouth.

Connor didn’t wait for more of an invitation. He kissed her, slid his arms around her to keep her close, and there it was again, that locked-in perfection, like they were made to kiss each other...and only each other. Her mouth was soft and giving, and a small sigh came from her and he couldn’t wait any longer, because for crying out loud, they hadn’t been together for twenty-seven months, and he missed her, he ached for her, and no one else would do.

They ended up making love right there, Jess on the counter, her legs wrapped around his waist, long, hot kisses and long, half-clothed foreplay, until she couldn’t wait anymore, ordered him to do her in a breathy, urgent voice.

And Connor was not about to disobey a direct order. No, sir.

* * *

AFTER THEY’D EATEN a hearty serving of lasagna, they went into the living room and talked, whispering so they wouldn’t wake Davey, and kissed and made love again. This time was slow and sweet, and afterward, they lay on the couch, wrapped around each other, a soft green blanket to keep off the cold.

He watched her as she slept, the long lashes brushing her cheek, her hand curled around his.

This was all he wanted. The circumstances didn’t matter.

He could win Davey over. He’d buy a two-family house and Davey could live with them, and they’d have a couple of kids, and she could quit her job and get her degree in whatever it was she wanted, and every night could be like this one, them together, naked and warm under the quilt, the wind gusting at the windows, the two of them safe inside.

At an hour so early the birds weren’t even singing, she woke him and told him he had to leave before Davey woke up.

He looked at her a long time, then smoothed her hair back. “This time, we’re in a relationship, Jess. This is not just sleeping together. Okay?”

“I—I have to think about my brother.”

“I know. We can go slow, but this is happening. Okay?”

She bit a fingernail, then put her hand in her lap. “Okay.” A muscle in her jaw flexed.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, kneeling down in front of her. “You’ll see.”

“Sure,” she whispered.

She was terrified. Could hardly look at him, and it made Connor all the more determined to make her see this could work.

And it did work. For months. Were they still sneaking around? Absolutely. But he’d take it. He’d do anything for her. He was completely, utterly smitten, and happier than he’d ever been in his life.

Getting close to her wasn’t going to be easy, he recognized. A lot of people had let Jessica down over the years, and it would take time to make her see he wasn’t one of them.

But she was giving him a chance.

What he saw—and what he was pretty sure she didn’t know—was that he was the lucky one here. Jessica was hands down the best person he knew. Taking such good care of her brother, working so hard at two or sometimes three jobs. She didn’t mention her parents, but he’d heard things... She gave them money, paid off her father’s gambling debt. Levi had to arrest Keith Dunn one night for drunk driving, and she had to leave Connor’s to take care of things.

He didn’t complain about their erratic time spent together. Just asked if he could do anything. Made chili for her to bring to Davey when she told him it was his favorite. Waited for her to call, accepted her cancellations. He tried to pay Gerard for watching Davey, but Jess would never let him.

For a good long stretch, they were getting somewhere. Colleen gave him an inscrutable look at work and left him alone, possibly sensing that this time was different.

And then one day, Jessica came to O’Rourke’s in the middle of the day, her face white. “Can I see you for a second?” she asked.

She had never asked to speak to him alone in a public place before. He knew it would be bad.

“Clear the kitchen, guys,” he said. Rafe and Omar, the dishwasher, went out obediently.

“My mother died,” she said. “Last night.”

“Oh, honey,” he said, taking her in his arms. But she just stood there, stiff as a statue.

“I... It was sudden, but I guess it was a long time coming. Liver failure.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She stepped back, and he knew what was coming. “Davey’s wrecked.”

“And how are you, Jess?” he asked.

“I’m...okay,” she murmured. She wasn’t. She was far from okay. “But I...I have to put things on hold with us.”

“You don’t, Jess. Let me help.”

“Help with what? With Davey? I don’t think that would work.”

“With you. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she said, and holy crap, there it was again, the broomstick through the sternum.

“You don’t need anyone? Even when your mom just died?”

“I’m fine. But thank you.”

She was already gone. This talk was just a formality. He wanted to be mad, to tell her for God’s sake, just let him in and let him take care of her.

Except he knew that she’d hate that.

And he also knew she had loved her mother.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I will.”

“Well, I don’t want you to, Connor,” she said, her voice ragged. “I don’t need that guilt trip. Just...go find some nice, normal person and marry her, okay?” The broom handle twisted, just in case there was still any living tissue that needed killing.

“Guess I can’t win for losing here,” he said.

“I need to focus on Davey and get through this. My father— You know what? I have to go.”