Chapter Fifteen
THEY TOOK THE last ferry back to Woods Hole, then drove back toward Wellfleet. Joey was sprawled across Jenna’s lap, and Jenna had a dreamy look in her eyes. Pete reached for her hand.
“Did you have fun today?”
She smiled and stroked Joey’s back. “I had the most amazing day. You know how sometimes you want to savor every second of something? Sear it into your brain so ten years from now you remember more than just what you did, but how it smelled, the sounds around you, and the way the air felt? That’s what I’m trying to do. Only instead of memorizing the heat of the sun, I keep feeling the brush of us whispering across my skin. I can’t describe it, and I know it sounds strange, but…” She lifted a shoulder, as if that explained it all.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “It’s not strange. I feel it, too. We’re creating our own private history. Then years from now we’ll look back and remember how it felt.”
His cell phone vibrated, and Pete tensed. He reluctantly released Jenna’s hand and pulled the phone from his pocket. His father’s name flashed on the screen. Of all the stinkin’ nights.
“I’m sorry, Jenna. It’s my dad, and there’s a good chance it’s not going to be pretty.”
She set her hand on his thigh. “History is rarely all pretty. Why should ours be any different?”
They drove the rest of the way to Pete’s father’s house in silence. His father lived on a quiet street of Cape-style homes, most of which were dark, as it was closing on ten thirty.
“Is this where you grew up?” Jenna asked as Pete parked the truck in his father’s driveway.
“Yeah.” Pete stepped from the truck and came around to open Jenna’s door. Joey jumped out and ran up to the porch. Jenna turned to get out of the truck, and Pete stood blocking her way. He leaned forward and kissed her, despite the worry in his eyes. “Babe, you don’t have to come inside. I appreciate your support, but really. It’s okay if you stay here.”
Jenna touched his cheek. “I’m dealing with a mother who dresses like she’s twenty and acts about the same. There’s no difference, Pete. Your situation might be more dire, but part of being in a relationship is helping each other, and if that meant only when times were good, then we’d never grow together as a couple.”
He searched her eyes, as if he was debating if he should move out of her way and allow her to go inside. “It’s embarrassing for you to see him this way.”
“Then I’ll stay in another room. I just want you to know I’m there with you.”
Pete touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’d gladly do it again and again.”
Jenna followed him and Joey inside. Pete led her into a dark living room and turned on a lamp, revealing a well-loved sofa, fireplace, and a room full of family photographs.
“Do you mind waiting in here?” Pete’s shoulders rode high, knotted with tension.
“Not at all.” She watched him leave the room with Joey on his heels.
Some houses smelled of home cooking, baked goods, or cleaning agents, while others smelled of warm family memories. Pete’s father’s house smelled of sadness. The air was heavy, not stale, but on its way there. It felt empty and lonely, and on top of that, Jenna felt pain hanging in the air. She listened to the sound of Pete’s voice coming from somewhere down the hall. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she caught his empathetic tone. She perused the photographs on the wall. Although she’d met Pete’s father in the hardware store, she’d never met Pete’s siblings or his mother. The family resemblance was strong among the boys, each tall and chiseled, with brooding eyes and broad chests. His sister, however, looked different from the others, less serious—probably because she was so young—with large, round eyes and a soft chin. She had full lips, and her hair was a shade lighter than Pete’s and hung to the middle of her back.
She followed a trail of pictures that marked the boys’ journey from lanky and hairless kids to thickly muscled stalks of power, while Sky remained lithe and feminine. The boys had their arms slung over one another’s shoulders in one picture, and in another Pete and another brother each held up fish, still attached to their fishing lines, proud grins on their lips. The other boys were in the background, hip deep in a pond, fishing rods in hand. Sky was sitting on the sand off to the right behind a woman whom she resembled and could only be their mother. Pete had her eyes, and the way she was smiling at Sky spoke of her love for her.
Jenna turned at the sound of footsteps on hardwood and Joey’s nails tapping across the floor. She peered down the hall and saw the back of the two men, Pete’s arm securely around his father’s thick waist, his head bowed, as he helped him toward another room.
“Come on, Pop. That’s it. I’ve got you.” Pete’s voice was compassionate and quiet.
“Bea? Where’s she, Peter?” His father’s words slurred together, and Jenna’s heart squeezed.
Joey padded toward Jenna, and Pete turned, his eyes catching hers with a heartbroken expression. She wanted to go to him, help him, and tell him it was going to be okay. She wanted to help tuck his father into bed and rub a damp cloth over his father’s head, assuring him that he, too, would be okay. A chill ran down her spine at the immense struggle she saw in Pete’s eyes, and she knew she could make no such promise. This was a battle his father had to want to win, and no matter how much she wanted to help Pete get his father the help he so desperately needed, this struggle was between father and son. She felt love fill the hallway, bonding Pete and his father in a way that could only come from years of love and respect—and she felt the pressure of the alcohol forcing its way between them, doing everything within its power to create an even greater divide between father and son.
They left a while later and drove to Seaside in silence. Pete’s forehead was etched deep with worry. When Jenna reached for his hand, he blessed her with a try at a smile—it faltered as quickly as it had been forced to appear.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but I was glad you insisted on being there. Thank you.” Pete parked in her driveway and came around to open her door. Joey jumped out of the truck and sniffed around his feet.
“Don’t be sorry for me, Pete. I feel bad for you.”
They went inside, and Joey ran straight to her puppy bed, walked in circles, then flopped down on her belly with an exhausted huff. Pete sat on the sofa, his long, powerful legs stretched across the floor. He reached for Jenna’s hand, and as she lowered herself beside him, he lifted her onto his lap. She circled his neck with her arms and ran her fingers through the back of his hair. Their foreheads touched, and Pete’s hand slid from her waist to her cheek. He tilted her head and brought his lips to hers, angling her jaw so they could each take more of the other in a kiss that somehow felt loving and tender at the same time. She wanted, needed, to take away his pain and replace it with the feel of her body, the sense of her love, if only for a while. To be his in any way he wished, to love, cherish, possess, until there was no room for sadness or worry.
A deep moan escaped his lungs, igniting every fiber of her being.
He spoke urgently between their kisses. “Love you…My whole life—”
His words circled her love-addled mind.
“You’re beautiful, but you’re so much more, Jenna. I love making love to you. Not just your body—you.”
He wrapped his arms around her, his cheek pressed to hers, his hot breath coasted over her ear.
“I love you, Jenna. I love you so much.”
A whisper in her ear, a promise, a confession.
Her throat thickened as his admission vibrated through her, rooting itself deep in her heart.
“I love you, too, Pete. I always have.”