Barefoot in the Rain (34 page)

“Do you remember how she handled it?”

“No, but that’s when Guy’s episodes started.” She blinked away the tears, clarity and understanding dawning.

This was what had made him snap. This was why he’d grown violent and moody. And why—oh, God. Realization dawned. “This is why he thinks you are his son who he was told was gone forever.”

He just closed his eyes at the direct hit.

She flipped to the last page, tucked in a pocket a
keepsakes marked
Baby’s First Hair
, a piece of paper was folded in half.

With a glance at Will, she drew it out, her hands trembling as the meaning of this settled on her heart. As she opened the paper, she swallowed hard at the sight of her father’s distinctive handwriting.

“He wrote this,” she said, her voice as wobbly as the rest of her.

Will put his arm all the way around her, holding her tight. “Let’s read it together.”

To my son…

She closed her eyes and let out a soft whimper.

“It’s a poem,” Will said, tucking her closer and letting her rest against him.

After a minute, she opened her eyes and read.

Today we said goodbye to you

A little man I never knew.

I wanted you to be my friend

But now those plans will have to end.

Jocelyn covered her mouth to hold back the sob. Will stroked her arm until she could bear to read the rest.

Even though you were never here

I love you, son, my little dear.

There are no words for all this pain

No way to stop the grief and rain.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Good…

That was it.

“Who knew he wrote bad poetry?” Will asked wistfully.

She almost smiled. “The man who loves needlepoint and decorating shows? He was always in there. Always.” But then that man had changed. He became a wifebeater. “He must have blamed my mother,” Jocelyn said as pieces fell into place. “He must have cracked and taken out all this agony on her.” She choked back the tears, turning to Will. “I shouldn’t have hated him so much.”

“It’s no excuse,” Will said quietly. “Do you want to go talk to him?”

“What good would that do? He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember anything. Not this unborn child, not me, not my mother, not what he did. He sure as hell won’t remember these clothes or this cabinet.” Her voice rose with each word, squeezing her, choking her.

She pushed up, desperate for air. Without a word, she scrambled to the side of the loft.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to breathe. I need to think.”
I need to reevaluate everything I thought was true.
“I just need…” Her words trailing off, she got to the bottom of the ladder and took off, aching to get out of the garage.

A stillborn baby boy. That could change a man and a marriage. It could transform a family from a happy one that went fishing in a rowboat to one that fought over fresh flowers.

Will was right. It was no excuse for what he’d done, but it was an explanation. And for some reason she didn’t quite understand, she wanted to cling to it.

She hit the grass of the side yard, walking without thinking, picking up speed, not entirely sure where she was going until she found herself standing at the back door of the Palmers’ house, the one that led up to Will’s room.

He was next to her in seconds, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her with comfort, just like always.

She looked up at him. “I need to go back up there.”

“In the garage?” he asked.

“Up there.” She pointed to the room. “I need you to hold me.”

Without a word, he opened the door and guided her up the narrow stairs where she’d long ago let him go and led her right to the comfort of his old Dodgers blanket.

J
udging by the sun pouring into the bedroom window, Jocelyn and Will had slept for at least a few hours. Her legs were wrapped around his, her face pressed against her shoulder. She woke with a funny feeling in her heart, a mix of bone-deep exhaustion and something like freedom.

Was she free now?

It sure felt like it. Her whole being felt lighter, despite the news that twenty-seven years ago she’d lost a baby brother. Guy must have cracked; maybe her mother had inadvertently caused the miscarriage and Guy just couldn’t forgive her.

No, it wasn’t an excuse, she realized that. Nothing got him a pass for what he’d inflicted on both of them, but somehow, some way, Jocelyn felt like a chain had been unlocked from around her chest and she could breathe again.

When they’d come up here, she’d babbled and sniffled
and sobbed like a fool, and Will did what Will did best: he’d held her. And then they fell asleep, in spite of the fact that they’d spent the night apart, restless and longing for each other. Or maybe because of it.

She sighed and nestled a little deeper into his side, her arm draped over his chest, her hair spilling over her cheeks. She couldn’t see his face from this angle but didn’t want to risk moving and waking him.

So instead of looking at him, she just let the musky, masculine scent of Will fill her head.

Stinks like sweat, grass, and a hint of reliability?

No. It smells like comfort.

The words were as clear as if the exchange that took place in this very room had been last night, not fifteen years ago. She’d loved him then and she—

What exactly did she feel now?

Come on, Joss.
You love him. You’ve
always
loved him.
Curling her fingers around the comforter, she pulled it higher, loving the softness of the old blue blanket, the symbol of his ultimate dream team.

Which was funny; he’d hate L.A. Just like she did.

She blinked at the thought. She’d always acknowledged her issues with the crowded, glitzy mess that was Los Angeles, but did she actually hate living there? Maybe she hadn’t realized that until she came here, which was, for better or worse, her home.

So why go back? Why not just settle right here, in these arms, with this man, in a new job, with a new life, and even a new father?

Now that she knew the truth, could she possibly forgive Guy? Maybe not, but she could tiptoe past her pain and maybe get to a better place with him. Couldn’t she?

Yes. Because she could do absolutely anything for Will. Even forgive Guy.

At the thought, an unfamiliar joy warmed her from the very deepest place. It felt radiant, real, and so unshakable.

Was this love? This sense of certainty? That desire to do anything for someone else? This feeling that life couldn’t get any better, combined with the awareness that it would?

Yes! This was most definitely love.

The realization made her shift in his arms, stretching along his hard side, sliding her leg over his, positioning herself to watch this gorgeous man wake up and grow erect at the same time. Talk about watching the sun rise.

Under her thigh, his manhood twitched and throbbed. A low groan pulled at his chest and he turned to met her gaze.

“Why is this woman smiling?”

She just rubbed her thigh over his erection, a zing of anticipation and nervousness fighting her own twitches of arousal. “Because she’s happy.”

He frowned a little. “You went to sleep crying.”

She chafed his hard-on again. “You went to sleep flaccid.”

He made a face. “That’s an ugly word.”

“There’s nothing ugly about…” She lowered her hand and rubbed over his tented shorts. “This.”

His features shifted from sleepy to sexy as he hissed in a breath. Her gaze drifted over his face, settling on his mouth, stirring everything in her low and deep. Her thighs tightened and her breasts seemed to swell and ache.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

He had no idea exactly what those words meant. And
right now, that was fine. Someday she’d tell him; maybe soon. But if she made a big announcement now, he’d get all weird.

She didn’t want weird. She wanted him.

He shifted a little to accommodate the erection and when he did, she started to untangle their legs, but Will squeezed his together, pinning her calf between his.

“You’re ready?”

“The long wait is over.” So, so over. She couldn’t help smiling. She’d made the right decision. There’d been plenty of near misses, plenty of pissed-off almost-boyfriends, plenty of nights when she wanted to lose control but couldn’t or wouldn’t or chickened out.

But she was finally ready.

“Oh, Jossie.” He stroked her face, brushing her hair back. “My beautiful, sweet, strong, sexy Bloomerang. I knew you’d come back to me.”

Time and space hung suspended like a curtain about to fall. Her heart slammed. Her breath caught. Her whole body tensed in anticipation.

No more waiting.

He kissed her so hard their teeth tapped, both of them sucking in the breath they’d been holding. Open-mouthed, their tongues touched and explored as they moved into the most natural position, body to body, almost instantly starting to rock in a heavenly rhythm.

“I can’t wait anymore, Joss,” he admitted with a rasp, already letting his hands begin to roam her body. “I can’t wait.”

“Don’t.” She kissed his neck and slid her hands over his chest, as desperate as he was. “Don’t wait. Don’t stop. Do whatever you want. Do… everything.”

He rolled her onto her back, shifting on top of her so he could press his whole body into the kiss. He didn’t bother getting under her shirt, but stripped it off in one satisfying move that she almost instantly mirrored with his T-shirt.

His hand quivered as he took off her bra and closed his palm over her breast, letting out a helpless groan as he lowered his head to take her nipple in his mouth.

Why had she waited for this?

Because it had to be Will. It
had
to be.

He licked her nipple until she budded under his tongue, then went back to her mouth, her cheeks, her throat, her ears. All the while they pumped against each other in an age-old beat of need and desire.

Desire that usually dragged her to a dark place. But this time all she felt was joy and relief and more desire. With a soft moan of joy, she let him roll her over again so she was on top, and her hair tumbled toward his face.

Sitting up, she straddled his hard-on and unzipped her shorts, staring at him, taking a million mental snapshots, wanting this extraordinary, perfect moment to last. Wanting so much to make up for the big black hole of longing and waiting that had consumed her for the last fifteen years.

She slid off him to slip out of her shorts, and he ripped off his, and then, for a span of about ten seconds, they lay naked, but not touching.

She smiled, touching his lips with her finger. “The wait is over, Will Palmer. Make love to me.”

He kissed her finger and closed his eyes. “That’s like… confetti at the World Series parade. Nothing could feel better than those words.”

Laughing, she drew her finger in and out of his lips. “Something could.”

“You’re right.” Very slowly, as tenderly as he could, he laid her back down, taking a moment to caress her breasts and slide his hand over her body and down one thigh.

She moaned with pleasure, lifting her hips to invite his touch.

“My Jocelyn,” he whispered as he trailed his finger from her belly button down to her very center.

His Jocelyn.

“I am,” she whispered, looking up at him, fighting not to completely lose control and buck wildly like she wanted to.

“My best friend.” He touched the most tender part of her, making her suck in a breath, but still she maintained control. “My girl next door.” He lowered his head and kissed her stomach while his finger slipped inside her a little deeper. “My lover.”

“Finally.” The word turned into a half-gasp when his tongue flicked over her.

“I love your body,” he murmured, kissing and sucking gently.

Answering with another moan, she dug her fingers into his hair and held his head where she wanted it. Pleasure exploded through her, so different from the quick release she’d had last night. This was intense, alive, deep. Hot flames licked all over her skin and every cell sparked.

“I love…” Her stomach tightened in anticipation, knowing he would say it now. He’d said it all those years ago. Will had no problem professing his love.

But instead of saying anything more, he opened his mouth over her, slipped his tongue inside, and nearly detonated her with one stroke. Arousal punched so hard her head buzzed with the loss of blood. Control evaporated, leaving only shreds of awareness, everything so insanely focused
there
. With a long, desperate cry of pure pleasure, she bucked against him, coming mercilessly against his mouth.

Still clawing through each breath and aftershock, she pulled him back up, letting him kiss every inch he could find until their lips met.

She tried to talk, but another little aftershock stole her voice, so she looked up at him, barely able to get the next strangled breath. “What are the chances, Will?”

Really, what were the chances that she could have waited all these years and they would finally find their way back to this room to make love for the first time? It was as if, in the back of her mind, she knew. She
knew
. For as many times as she had questioned her own sanity, made a hundred excuses, and even lied about her sex life, she
knew
.