Till It Hurts by Cora Brent
Tori
Now
The day is too beautiful and I can’t seem to stay focused on the sentences in front of me. This shouldn’t matter much. I have all the material for my upcoming realtor exam pretty well memorized already. I stepped out into the backyard to give Jace some privacy during his phone call and to soak in the lovely weather, which is warm but not excessively hot. The first hints of autumn can be tasted in the slight breeze and McClane stands on the edge of the porch with his nose in the air.
I whistle for the dog and he leaps to my side, always eager to receive affection. My realtor books get tossed to a nearby table for now and I give into the plain enjoyment of rocking in a chair on the front porch with my faithful friend.
Not many cars come this way because the street is a dead end. Sometimes people do drive by for a curious look, just because they know Jace lives here, but they always turn around quickly and go back the way they came. From here I can just barely see the roof of the high school. The old water tower remains a faithful sentinel in the distance. The cross atop the Trinity Catholic Church is visible and parallel to that is the peak from the First Street Redemption Church. These are not unusual sights and are likely repeated in a thousand towns in a thousand different places, but the only view I could ever love is the one right here in Arcana.
The screen door wheezes open behind me and Jace emerges with two glasses of iced mint tea.
“How did it go?” I ask as he places a cold glass in my hand.
He drops down into the other rocking chair. He’s wearing only a pair of jeans and I automatically check out the muscled perfection of his chest while flashing back to this morning’s naked games in bed. And then more naked fun standing up in the shower. Followed by getting to my knees beside the sink. Finally, we tumbled back into bed to use each other even more.
“We had a nice talk.” He absently rubs the tan skin just below his collarbone and then takes a good look at me. He lifts an eyebrow. “Why are you blushing?”
“I’m not. It’s hot out here.”
Jace is tough to fool. He smirks and slowly, deliberately, licks a bead of water from his glass. Then he winks at me. He’s so fucking sexy it’s unreal.
I press my knees together to stifle a surge of lust and try to remember what I wanted to know. “So, tell me about your talk with your aunt.”
He’s glad to share the details of his conversation with his mother’s sister. The family is overjoyed that he wants to know them. Jace has two teenage cousins who have been eager to visit the United States and Jace has offered to pay for a trip for them all.
Jace becomes more solemn when the subject turns to his mother. His aunt, Lenora, was candid about her disapproval for her sister’s actions. For a while it caused a rift between the two of them as Lenora strongly desired to have a relationship with her nephew and begged her sister to reach out to the little boy she’d left behind. Years later, after she remarried, Jace’s mother had a change of heart and began to deeply regret leaving her son. She was hurt when told that Jace wanted nothing to do with her but hoped someday he would change his mind.
Of course, someday never came. His mother died instantly the day of a horrible bus crash that also killed ten other people.
Jace closes his eyes and leans his head back, perhaps dwelling on faded memories or maybe trying to guess what might have been.
I reach for his hand. “Do you think you would have talked to her if given the chance?”
His eyelids lift. An old pain lives there in his dark eyes and my own heart aches in sympathy.
“Maybe,” he says, then thinks some more. “Yeah, I know I would have.”
I leave my chair and go to him. His lap is always the place where I fit most comfortably. My cheek rests on his strong shoulder. His arms fasten around me securely. There aren’t words sufficient in any language to convey how much I love him.
We rock slowly in the chair, taking pleasure in the gentle silence and in each other. McClane looks on like he’s wondering why we can’t share Jace’s lap.
Then Jace pivots to a far more cheerful topic. “What do you say we take a look at the calendar tonight?”
“Yes yes yes!” I kiss him.
Those were my exact words the night Jace formally asked me to marry him. Later, he confessed he’d been carrying the ring around for weeks in search of the perfect occasion. It turned out to be the day I moved in here for good and he was charmingly nervous when he led me outside after dark. The moon was full when he dropped to his knees in the front yard of our dream home. And then he asked for the honor of becoming my husband.
We have not set a date yet. I think any day of the year would be an excellent choice to become Jace Zielinski’s wife.
Our fingers lace together and I admire my engagement ring. “Colt texted a little while ago. He sent some scenery shots that look like they belong in National Geographic. By the way, he plans to call you tonight as long as his cell reception holds out.”
To my knowledge, my brother is still oblivious to the fact that he and his best friend might have the same father. It’s wild to think about, how we could have all grown up together with no idea. Then again, sometimes I wonder if Colt really does suspect. When we were kids he never wanted to discuss who his father might be, not ever. He gives no sign that he wants to talk about it now.
I’ve considered blurting out the question to my mother. She’s been trying to insert herself back into my life lately, ever since the news reached her that Jace and I are getting married. She has a few things to answer for herself, although I don’t have much hope that will ever happen. Anyway, I might not be hearing from her again real soon. The last time we spoke, I shared the fact that Rochelle would be the maid of honor at my wedding. My mother was not pleased, to put it mildly.
Jace asks if I would mind if he spent some time writing in the office. There’s a scene in his head that he wants to write down. Of course I don’t mind. I love that he’s writing again. The open den has been walled in and that’s the area we turned into an office with two large desks side by side. There are also three empty bedrooms that we haven’t done a thing with yet.
Someday this house will be filled with our family, I know it. The thought delights me to no end, and yet I’ll enjoy the journey until we get there.
After Jace closes himself in the office, I wander through the living room and relish the familiar rush of happiness when I realize that this is our home. Gloria’s house stands empty, waiting for Colt’s next visit. We did bring over the framed family photos and hung Gloria’s cross stitch projects on the wall. My favorite photos are propped atop the piano, just as hers were. Gloria and Jacek Zielinski beam at me from their long ago newlywed days. Jace smirks from his senior year portrait. Parked in the middle is a framed photo of me and Jace, taken last month in downtown Arcana by a local photographer. Right beside it is a much smaller picture, an amateur shot of three children at their elementary school picnic, a reminder of the way we were then, located in a place of honor to be appreciated by who we are now.
With Jace in his office, I decide to start making dinner. I’ve chosen a stuffed chicken recipe that was Gloria’s. It’s nearly finished when Jace emerges.
“I was summoned by the smell of stuffed chicken.” He sweeps my hair to the side and kisses my neck.
I melt, as I always do, and lean back into his chest. “How’s the writing going?”
“Slowly but surely.”
I turn around so that I can lay my cheek close to his heart. “I have to tell you something, Jace.”
He strokes my hair. “Tell me anything.”
“I like April.”
“April who?”
“The month of April. The weather is beautiful and early spring always feels like a new beginning.”
“April is an excellent month.” His voice conveys his smile.
“Good. We agree. Do you have plans on April second? It’s a Saturday. I already looked.”
“I don’t believe I have any plans on April second. Why?”
“Because that’s the day I want to marry you, Jace Zielinski.”