CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Sarah
“You look like someone on one of those Skittles commercials. All happy and bright with color.”
I pin Clint with a sharp look. “Seriously?” I forgot to do laundry and am wearing a set of the more colorful scrubs I wore while in school, working my rotation in pediatrics.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Well, with that kind of attitude, you’ll be like the ‘before’ part of a Snickers commercial. Sheesh.”
“Clint,” I say on an exhale, checking the time. “I’m about to end my shift.”
“You’re implying I should cut you some slack? Be nicer? Maybe give you some chocolate since you ran out unexpectedly?” His eyebrows rise in question.
Releasing a groan, I frown. “I swore I had plenty.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he flashes me a secretive smile. “How much would you love me if I told you I had some for you?”
Immediately, I pounce on him, my hands dipping into his back pockets in search of my fix. “I can’t believe you’re holding out on me,” I say accusingly.
Clint grasps my wrists and tugs me away from him, staring at me incredulously. “Jesus, Matthews. You’re like a junkie.” Steering me a step away from him, he holds up his hands and eyes me. “Stay there.”
He reaches into his front pocket, and I’d like to say I wouldn’t have gone there, but I’ve not experienced a desperation for my chocolate fix quite like this.
And if I’m being completely honest, I have to admit I think of Jack every time I eat one of them.
When Clint withdraws two foil-wrapped treats from his pocket, I snatch them from him like a junkie about to get their fix. My fingers begin to peel the foil back when his voice stops me.
“What? No thank you?”
My eyes rise to his, and I give him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Clint.”
Removing the chocolate from the foil, I bring it to my lips just as I look at the message on the inside of the wrapper. My hand freezes an inch away from my mouth as I stare down at the wrapper in confusion.
Give yourself up to love.
Huh. This one is unlike their usual messages, but maybe they’re adding variety. Mentally shrugging, I take a bite, only to have it fill my mouth with its sweet goodness and remind me of him.
Damn it.
Finally, I register that Clint’s still standing there, watching me with an odd expression. “What?” I ask cautiously.
“Any fun message on the inside?” His eyes flick down to the foil wrapper in my hand before they return to mine.
Suspicion rolls through me because Clint never asks about the messages. Wordlessly, I hand over the small square foil and try to gauge his reaction as he reads it.
His gaze meets mine, and the corners of his lips curve upward. “You should follow through on this one.”
“Right,” I scoff. “Because I normally take advice from chocolate wrappers.” Turning, I head to the hall leading to the room housing our lockers. His hand on my arm stops me, his brown eyes thoughtful.
“Don’t forget to check the other wrapper, too.”
I nod, eyeing him oddly…because I always read them. And he knows that. “Catch you later.”
It’s not until much later that evening that it registers how odd it was that Clint doesn’t prefer those particular chocolates, yet he had two on him.
For me.
* * *
Love might not come easy, but it’s always worth it.
“Home sweet home,” I mutter to myself, unlocking my apartment door. The message on the second wrapper kept me distracted on the entire ride home.
It’s eerily quiet as I close the door and lean back against it with a weary sigh. Maybe I should get a pet. Something that doesn’t require much attention due to my long shifts. Then it wouldn’t be so god-awful lonely to come home to an empty apartment.
And no, it doesn’t escape me that it’s never bothered me before. I never really cared about coming home to a quiet, empty home before …
“Jack,” I breathe out on a wisp. Simply saying his name aloud causes the pinching in my chest to increase painfully.
I still haven’t found the nerve to talk to him. Because, really. How does one even go about saying, “Hey, um, remember when you basically professed your love for me, and I practically left skid marks on the floor trying to get away from you? Well, I’ve changed my mind. I really do love you.”
Trying to shake off my funky mood, I kick off my shoes and walk into the apartment, ready to set my bag on the kitchen chair.
Except I don’t make it that far.
My keys and bag drop to the floor with a loud thud. Transfixed, I stare at the sight around me.
Vases cover every possible flat surface of my kitchen and living room. And I’d recognize the flowers that fill them anywhere.
Blue balls.
Arrangements of the pitifully plain blue flowers decorate my kitchen counters, kitchen table, end tables beside my couch, and the coffee table. Blue balls are everywhere, on every available surface.
It’s a massive allergy attack waiting to happen…and the sweetest thing I’ve ever come home to in my entire life.
I notice the largest arrangement on my coffee table has a small florist’s envelope clipped to it, drawing my attention to it. Dozens upon dozens of foil-wrapped chocolates are scattered on my coffee table, but three in particular are propped up against the vase.
Stepping closer, I carefully tug the envelope free and pull out the small card.
Please read the messages of these three chocolates first, Sunshine.
With trembling fingers, my heart feeling as though it’s about to burst from my chest, I set the card down and pick up one chocolate, unwrapping it and setting the chocolate on the surface of the table.
If I could, I’d go back and fight for you.
My breathing stutters, and I immediately reach for the next chocolate, unwrapping it hurriedly.
I never got to tell you how much I love you. I hope I get a chance.
Moving to the third chocolate, I don’t realize I have tears streaming down my face until one drops onto the foil.
You are my Sunshine. Still. Always. Forever.
The vibrating sound coming from my bag alerts me that my phone is ringing. With my heart in my throat, still grasping the foil wrapper, I dig through my purse for my phone. The screen is alit with the person’s name I’ve ached to see over the past two weeks.
Swiping my thumb across the screen to accept the call, I place it at my ear. “Jack.” My voice comes out sounding breathless.
“Sunshine.” That one word, that deep, husky voice filled with such emotion washes over me, warming me through and through.
“You did this for me?” I ask in disbelief. Wiping at another tear trickling down my cheek, I fix my eyes on the sight of all those chocolates wrapped in what must be custom-made wrappers.
“I’d do anything for you,” he answers immediately. “But I do have to warn you…” I swear I can hear the smile in his voice. “After a while, my creativity waned.”
Now curious, I walk over and pick another chocolate from the random pile, unwrapping it quickly in anticipation of reading the message.
I’d give anything to get FaceTimed by your vagina again.
Laughter bubbles up, bursting free. “You want to FaceTime my vagina again, huh?”
“If you had to come up with dozens of messages, you’d get pretty desperate, too.” I detect the sheepishness in his voice.
Unwrapping another, I smile down at the wrapper in my hands.
I’d suffer blue balls my entire life if it means I get to spend each of those days with you.
“Jack.” I sigh into the phone. I wish he were here right now so I could thank him and tell him… “Where are you?”
“Open your door, Sunshine.”
I still before turning slowly, eyeing my door. The hand holding the phone drops to my side. My feet carry me to the door, and when I open it, I’m greeted with a sight I’ve ached for.
“Jack Westbrook,” I murmur, drinking in the sight of him in soft, worn denim and a long-sleeved gray Henley. “How did you manage all this?”
Closing the distance, he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Resting one hand on my hip, he dips his head, and eyes bright with emotion, he presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I had the wrappers specially made and used my time before and after work for two days unwrapping those damn chocolates and rewrapping them with my wrappers.”
“You had Clint and Maggie in on this,” I murmur, realizing he must have given the chocolates to Clint and had him nab my usual stash. Then he’d used the key I’d left with Maggie in the case of an emergency.
“I had to enlist their help with something this important.” His eyes search mine. “I should’ve fought harder, Sarah. I’m sorry.”
I press a finger against his lips and speak softly. “No. I was wrong…and scared. You were right.”
His brow furrows, a crease popping up between his eyebrows, and he tips his head to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that last part. Can you repeat it?”
As my lips part to do so, I catch sight of that telltale sparkle in his eyes. Shoving against him playfully, I scoff. “Nice tr—”
His lips swallow my words, and I kiss him back with everything I have, going to my tiptoes, and wrapping my arms around his neck. Jack’s fingers thread through my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
And that’s when I realize what I’ve been missing.
Jack doesn’t taste sweet and indulgent like my chocolates. He tastes like something far more decadent, far more delicious, and far more addicting.
Jack tastes like love.