Taking Mine (27 page)

“Jacob showed you the zip line?”

“Yes, sir. You’d think he was fifteen.”

“Bruce. Call me Bruce. No sirs around here.”

“Okay.” Getting the idea he’d like to chat, I take up the vacant rocking chair.

“Justin’s told you a lot about me.”

I guess we’re getting straight to the point. “He has.”

“All good things, I’m sure.” His good humor makes me smile.

Tess brings out a plate of muffins and places it on the table but doesn’t say anything, giving Bruce a kiss before disappearing back inside. Bruce offers me one, which I decline, and he takes a bite before continuing.

“I’m not proud of my past, but I can’t be ashamed of it anymore. I’ve spent these last few years trying to make him proud, show him that I’m trying to be a better father—a better husband—but he still won’t talk to me.”

He rocks softly in his chair, looking out at the field of trees, gathering his thoughts. It’s the first time I’ve seen Justin in him. He’s taking time to access what he’s going to say.

“I hope you understand that I had to forgive myself.” I don’t nod or give anything away when he looks at me. After a moment, he looks away. “It’s the only way I can be the person I need to be for Tess.”

“You seem happy together.”

“We are, for the most part. But Justin’s presence hangs over us. He doesn’t come home because of me. Tess knows it, I know it.”

“She blames you.”

“There’s no more blame to be had. It’s up to us to make the most of it. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t anger me that it’s taken three years for him to come home. I see Tess's disappointment every time he makes an excuse not to come visit. But he calls, so I guess I can't complain too much.”

We rock for a few minutes, and the muffins start to look appealing, so I take one. I peel the parchment paper back and say, “My mom was an alcoholic.”

This catches his attention. “Was?”

“Is. I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her since I was eleven.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his words laden with sadness.

I shrug my shoulders and pretend indifference. “It’s not your fault. Like you said, it is what it is.”

“What about your dad?”

“Died when I was two. My brother raised me. He protected me from most of it, I suppose. I didn’t even know how bad my mom was until middle school. When she left, he didn’t have to shield me from it anymore. In a way it was probably a relief.”

He lets out a deep breath. Again, another characteristic of Justin’s. I wonder if he realizes how deep his dad’s genes are imbedded in him. “He sounds like a good man.”

“He is. The best.” I take a bite of the muffin, chewing as I think. “It's ironic, because Justin was that person for Jacob.”

“Yes,” Bruce says. “Justin did more than his fair share with Jacob, and I did stay, but there was a time when I thought of leaving. Not because I wanted to, but because it might have been easier on them.”

“Are you saying it's worse that you didn't leave?”

“I don't know,” he says, his eyes forlorn. “You tell me.”

Justin and Jacob emerge from the tree line, and Justin is laughing at Jacob’s hand motion gliding through the air. Justin smacks his hand down and does his own reenactment, ending with a smack to his brother's forehead.

Jacob runs right up to us and picks up the spare glass, filling it with tea. Sweat is covering every inch of his skin and some parts of his clothing.

“What happened to the cape?”

Justin slows as he approaches the porch. “It caught one of the tree branches on his way down, pulled him straight off the line.”

“Landed flat on my back.”

Bruce and I both laugh as Jacob describes his thought process through a drop that probably lasted a couple seconds at most. By the time he finishes, Tess has wandered out to the porch and taken up a seat on the arm of Bruce’s rocking chair.

“I told you jumping off the roof is about the dumbest thing you can do without some type of harness.”

“Yes, Mother,” Jacob says, bowing. “You are always right.”

“Damn right,” Bruce says, smiling.

Justin is the only one who doesn't contribute to the conversation. Everyone can feel his unease. Jacob tries to diffuse it with humor, Tess tries to act like everything is normal, and Bruce shuts his mouth. It’s the same method they used last night at dinner. Before, I didn’t see it, but now I do. Justin’s attitude hangs over them like an approaching thundercloud. He doesn’t announce his departure, instead opting to leave without a word. The screen door slams shut behind him.

All eyes turn to me.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce says, giving his wife a shoulder rub. “No need to apologize.”

And I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t hate Bruce. I want to. I do. But the man who sits before me is not the man Justin describes. People change, right? Bruce whispers in Tess’s ear, and they excuse themselves to a walk in the orchard.

Jacob takes up their chair and refills his tea. “He feels like if he forgives him then it means it was okay. That everything he put us through is excusable. And it’s not. But he’s hurting everybody by not letting it go.”

“And you’ve forgiven him?”

Jacob takes a sip before replying. “Sometimes. Most times. Every now and then it’ll hit me, and I’ll get angry, but then I realize it’s useless. Mom’s forgiven him. I need to too.”

JUSTIN DROPS OUR BAGS
on the bottom step of the porch. Tess envelops Justin in a tight hug with tears in her eyes, making him promise to visit again soon. After she releases him, she surprisingly pulls me into a hug as well.

“You’re welcome to come back anytime as long as you bring my boy with you.”

We laugh at her obvious attempt to barter for Justin. We spent the night before “bonding” as we baked Justin’s favorite dessert, peach cobbler. She, in a very roundabout way, apologized for being so standoffish, claiming she only wants the best for her son and his heart. And she also assured me that she could hear straight into his bedroom and that the walls were very thin.

She folds a note into the palm of my hand. “For future reference.”

Jacob pushes her out of the way, telling her she’s stealing all the action. Always the comedic relief. “I look forward to pissing off my brother some more, so you have to come back.”

“Apparently he didn’t hit you hard enough.”

“Or too hard, depending how you look at it.” He winks.

Bruce stands by the door, not daring to venture too close. A tiny gleam of a smile peeks through as I walk up the stairs and embrace him in a hug. “You’re good for him,” he says.

With my chin on his shoulder, I say, “No, he’s good for me.”

He gives me one last good squeeze and lets go. “Remember that. Even when life makes you question everything, remember how much good he brings you.”

I don’t know why his words pack so much punch, but I fight off a lump in my throat as I descend the steps, waving one last goodbye to Tess and Bruce. Justin’s eyes stay trained on me as I walk back toward him, a ghost of emotions flitting across his face. He hugs me. I don’t know why, but I hug him back, putting all the strength I can into it. There's something he’s seeking from me, and I can feel it with every deep breath he takes. Maybe reassurance.

“I'm on your side,” I say.

He kisses my forehead and shifts his arm over my shoulder. “Dad,” Justin says, focusing in on Bruce. “Maybe next time I’ll take you up on that tea.” Tess bursts into tears.

It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that Bruce’s eyes mist over as he nods. “I’d really like that, son.”

Jacob’s smile is brilliant when he says, “One small step for man, and one giant—ow.”

He rubs his shoulder, the one I just backhanded, and everyone laughs. Justin high fives me as Tess instructs Jacob to help pack the rest of our bags. I’m climbing into the passenger seat when I hear Jacob wish Justin good luck through the open hatch.

I look over my shoulder, and Justin's gaze meets mine. “Thanks, I’m going to need it.”

They finish saying their goodbyes, and Justin slides into the driver seat, taking one last good look at the land before him. He starts the engine, rolling down the windows as he reverses, and I breathe in the last whiff of pine mixed with lemon. I’ll probably never be able to find a smell close to this again without the help of cleaning products.

I wait until the house disappears from sight and we’re engulfed in shadows before I say, “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at me. “Me too.”

The drive seems to go by slower on the way back, and we don’t bother to unpack once we finally arrive at Justin’s apartment. Sliding onto the couch, allowing Justin to take up the better half of it, I fall into a level of comfort that’s become addicting. It feels like…home. Instead of this thought freaking me out like I assume it would if I were more coherent, it only drives me further into his warmth. Justin’s lips skim the underside of my chin, but I welcome it this time, giggling at his attempt to keep me awake.

“I feel like it’s been forever since I heard you laugh,” he says.

“What are you talking about? I spent the entire weekend laughing with your family.”

“Correction: you spent the entire weekend laughing at my brother.”

I turn on my back and look up at him. “Are you seriously jealous of your brother right now?”

He shrugs, but his smile tells me there’s an ounce of insecurity there. “Not him, specifically, but his ability to make you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

He already knew that’s what I would say. Intertwining his fingers through mine, he stays focused on them as he runs his thumb back and forth over mine. “I’m torn between wanting to tell you everything going on inside me, to tell you what I’m thinking, when I think it, and how it makes me feel.” He pauses to look up at me. “And the other half of me wants to put all those things in a box and make sure it never gets to see the light of day.”

It makes sense. Justin has the ability to see himself better than anyone I know. It’s his way of staying on neutral ground, a balancing act of some sort, and I’ve seen that war wage inside of him many times.

“So, Lilly,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

He wants me to carry the responsibility of his feelings. If he tells me, I have to face them. I’ll be held accountable. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I don’t get to choose the snippets I want. Because I want the easy ones, the ones that don’t rock us too hard. I want the ones that give me just enough hope to put in my own box and hide away. But something tells me his box is much deeper than mine, and much darker, as well. The thought of not knowing anything at all is almost worse. I need to know that what I’m feeling, what I’ve been denying and pushing away, he feels too, and that we’re in this together.

If there’s anything I’ve learned the past few weeks, it’s that the power of touch is real. I’ve fought the desire to touch Justin, just to feel how real he is, and to feel the comfort of his presence. I’ve been touched by him in ways that I never knew could be enjoyable. Touch can calm a racing heart, or set one off. It can push someone away, or pull them closer. And it can convey affection and adoration, and the absolute vulnerability it takes to feel those emotions.

I wrap my free hand around his neck, letting my fingers skim the skin there, and pull his face down to mine. “Show me,” I say against his lips, almost inaudible to myself beyond the race of my heart.

He holds still, unmoving, as he registers my words, and in a split moment he’s carrying me toward his bedroom. It’s the same bed I’ve been in countless times. But this time, when he laces our hands above my head—looking at me like nothing else matters for him—this bed becomes a place I’ll always remember when it comes to what it feels like to fall in love.

With every touch, every feel of his lips, and every unspoken feeling…I give in.

JUSTIN’S LIPS WAKE ME
and I protest, rolling over and stuffing my face in a pillow.

“Lilly,” he says, giving me a little shake. “Wake up. Kaley’s here.”

I grumble but don’t move.

“She said you had plans to go shopping?”

A faint memory of agreeing to go Christmas shopping after I got back from spending time with Justin’s family resurfaces, and I immediately begin trying to think of ways to get out of it.