Navy
I slept in a bed last night, held tight to J.J.’s chest. The concept is so foreign I still don’t believe it. Not one single nightmare. Waking up alone was a disappointment, but what did I expect? The man has given me enough. I’m selfish to want more when I have nothing to give.
I tug and pull at the frayed jean shorts I’m wearing. I’ve paired them with a flowing top. My stomach is growing by the day. Amazing what food does for a body. I clench and unclench my fists while jogging down the stairs. The scent of bacon, my favorite, greets me at the bottom.
Faye is the first to come into view. It still blows my mind she’s Kemp’s mom. The last day we were in the garden, she explained it all to me. Kemp and J.J. grew up together as best friends. J.J. was considered the boy from the wrong side of the tracks while Kemp wasn’t. J.J.’s story is downright ugly up until the point his stepdad, Preston, came into his life.
Faye teared up recalling all the times she and her husband made sure J.J. had what he needed. She said it was hard because J.J. and his mom moved from one seedy hotel to the next one. She also revealed it was her husband flying the plane that crashed and took the lives of everyone in it, J.J.’s mom and stepdad included. Our conversation was cut short when J.J. came striding up to us. His face was red, and veins throbbed in his neck. The man is as easy to read as a simple picture book.
Before he had the chance to give us his what for, Faye stepped in, pressing her palm to his chest, and I’ll never forget the words she spoke.
“Simple words, J.J. That’s all we need. No barking show.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. “I don’t want you two out here.”
“I’m assuming there’s a good reason?” She propped her vegetable basket on her hip.
J.J.’s jaw clenched. “A fucking good reason. You weren’t supposed to be out here yesterday either. Not sure how Kemp managed to fuck that up.”
“And I assume we are still under house arrest?”
“In the house,” he roared, grabbing my hand and leading me straight inside.
The mention of house arrest never bothered me much. Maybe it should have. The harsh reality is I don’t have anywhere to go anyway. I find myself running my hand over my abdomen as I round the kitchen island. I decided to put my newfound cooking skills to use. Faye’s been an excellent teacher. Her gentle heart and love for others remind me so much of my momma.
I bite the inside of my cheek, still trying to convince myself to muster up enough courage to ask J.J. about my parents. He has the resources to find them, and something inside of me tells me he would help me.
“Rebecca, huh?”
I turn to see the men waltz in the kitchen. Even though it’s Kemp talking nonstop, it’s J.J. who garners my attention. He’s in faded blue jeans, bare feet, and shirtless. I clutch the butter knife in my hand. The cold metal from the knife warms up from the heat of my skin. The man exudes perfection from the way he moves with ease and confidence.
Faye scoffs, muttering under her breath about how hard is it to put on some damn clothes. J.J. glances up at me. I don’t duck my head; I stare right back at him and smile. The thought of last night rushes in. His powerful yet caring hands taking care of me, making me sleep in a bed. I’ve never slept so well in my life.
“Goddamn, how far did you have to go down your list to get Rebecca in your bed?” Kemp elbows J.J.’s side, getting his attention.
It’s then I realize what Kemp is riding J.J. about. Realization dawns on my features, my smile disappears, and my shoulders slump. I fall back into myself, seeking out the one safe spot I can tumble into where nothing or no one can hurt me. It’s my place.
“Damn near grabbed her for myself when I saw her sneaking out of your room this morning.” Kemp follows up his statement with a hearty chuckle.
“Shut the fuck up,” J.J. roars, slamming his fists into something, I’m guessing the countertop.
Faye’s startled jump matches my own. I continue buttering biscuits, refusing to allow the tears building up in my eyes to tumble. I don’t have the brainpower to figure out why Faye isn’t scolding the men for their foul language. My fingers tremble as the butter melts over the freshly baked biscuits. The harder I try to steady them, the more they shake.
Thank you. Thank you for reminding me J.J. is no exception to the rule. Jordan pulled the same shit—bringing woman after woman into our bed. It’s not the same circumstances but hurts all the same. For the first time in long years, I feel like an idiot. I began to believe in the fairytale only for it to be shattered underneath my own feet. How many times, Navy? How many times will it take?
I make my plate this morning and take my spot at the counter. Faye remains quiet, finishing up breakfast. She breaks the silence once she makes her plate. She always stands in her spot in the kitchen while she eats. It’s directly across from my spot. The men have remained quiet since the whole charade began.
“Navy, I found that box of hair dye. I was right. It’s a dark brown.” Faye takes a bite of breakfast.
I run my hands through my long blonde hair. Faye noticed the roots the other day. It was a long and laborious event telling her how Jordan demanded I was a blonde. Not just a blonde, but one with long wavy curls. I hated it the moment he had it bleached out and turned to a platinum blonde. As the months morphed into years, I accepted it but hated it all the same.
“Really?” I squeak out, gripping the glass full of orange juice.
“Yep, I knew it was around here. I quit coloring my hair years ago and gave into the goddamn grays.” She waves a hand around her head.
“What is this all about?” J.J. is up on his feet making his way to us. He stops behind me. I feel him. All of him. His breathing, the thumping against his chest, and his curiosity. It’s his scent that makes me nervous and undoes me. The scent of leather, sex, and sweet-sweet mandarins makes me dizzy. It’s the same aroma that put me to sleep last night. It wrapped me in a cocoon of safety, and for the first time in years, I felt loved. It all vanished with hearing the simple name of “Rebecca.”
Faye rattles on about my hair color and how my original color is a dark brown. She keeps the rest of her story to herself, which I’m thankful for.
“Navy.” J.J. steps to my side.
I keep my gaze on my plate, not wanting to look at him. I felt as if I’d come so damn far only to be knocked back on my ass. The rapid emotions resurfacing and attacking my thoughts won’t slow down. J.J. is not Jordan. He’s not my husband; hell, he’s not even my boyfriend. I have no right to feel any of this. The thing is I’m feeling something other than pain for the first time in a very long while.
When I don’t respond, he moves closer and repeats my name. I continue to look down.
“Navy.” He tries again. His fingers frame my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. “Navy, is this something you want?”
I can’t avoid the sincerity lingering on his features. He’s not pissed or demanding anything.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He lowers his face to mine. I close my eyes, the contact and closeness all too much. His cheek brushes mine. The stubble on his jawline grazes along my tender skin, sparking me to life. His lips brush the shell of my ear. His bare chest presses into my bare shoulder. The skin to skin contact ignites all my senses.
“Is the blonde a Jordan thing?” His lips dance across my ear, causing me to shiver.
I nod, unable to speak a single word. He was just with another woman last night, yet his touch does something to me. It quiets the storm raging inside of me.
“You will not be using a box of dye.”
He stands up, steps back, running his hands through his hair. I’m forced to close my eyes. It’s all too damn much.
“No fucking box of dye, Faye. You know to come to me if you need anything. Enough of this bullshit, everyone!” He grips the back of his neck, all of his muscles in his arms flexing. “I’ll have someone here in an hour.”
J.J. turns and strides off. Seconds later, the door to his office slams shut. He was wrong. Two hairdressers show up in forty-five minutes, not an hour. Security ushers them into the house, helping them get their chairs and equipment set up. I’m unable to process the whole situation from this morning due to Faye’s endless chatter. The woman is oblivious to J.J.’s disposition. Not me. I’m reeling from left to right with no end in sight.