The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3) (46 page)

Jane sinks down on a chair across from me. Her expression alters into one of amused annoyance. “She’s fine. Tired. Going to bed.”

I widen my eyes. “Well?”

She stares. “Well, what?”

Fuck. “Did you get along? Did she talk about anything? Was it good? Christ, I don’t know. You’ve been in there together four hours. I’ve been sitting out here going out of my mind, not sure if I should be glad or worried that the two of you were alone for so long.”

She rolls her eyes, slouching back against the cushions. “What? Are you afraid I’d tell her junk about you that you don’t want your wife to know?” She laughs, then her humor melts to be replaced with annoyance. “Or are you worried I was mean to her?”

A mild flush betrays me. “No. Not mean. But you can be a touch—”

She leans forward. “What?”

“Acerbic.”

She runs her fingers through her hair, frustrated. “Well, I wasn’t. We talked. Nothing major. It’s all good. She feels welcome here and I think even comfortable and relieved to be on Orcas instead of in California.”

I nod. “Good. I wasn’t certain dropping her into an unfamiliar environment would be the right thing for her. If she’s comfortable, that’s good.”

“You worry too much.”

I exhale. “That’s all I do anymore. Worry about her. Worry about us.”

Jane gives me a sympathetic pout.

Fuck, why did I say that?

“Nice to hear I’ve finally dropped off the Jacob concerned list. And now you can stop worrying about her. Start worrying about you. That’s what she needs.”

I look up quickly. “Did she say that?”

She makes an agitated shake of her head. “No, I’m saying that. Listen, you’re the best brother a girl could have, but you can be overbearing when you worry, and it’s a hard thing to manage when someone has a lot of their own stuff to manage. I’m telling you to let her breathe. Don’t treat her differently. Don’t make what happened to her the only thing you have between you.”

“Are you saying that’s what I did with you?”

“Yes. A little. It was hard. I didn’t need your worry. I was worried enough about myself.”

The void I’ve felt since Juarez is now aching. I press two fingers against my forehead trying to bring my body and thoughts back into control.

“I didn’t realize that was what I was doing.”

“I know,” she says soothingly. “But she doesn’t need to feel like she’s failing you. She just needs to feel that you love her still.”

I rub my brow and try to fight back the surging emotion begging for release. “Still? God, did she say that? That she thinks I don’t love her anymore because of…” The words stick in my throat.

“Not in so many words. But it’s pretty clear that’s part of what she’s feeling. She’s overwhelmed, Jacob. Don’t be one of the things overwhelming her.”

I sit back against the cushions and stare at the room. “And how do I not be one of things that are overwhelming her?”

“By seeing only her when you’re with her, I guess. I don’t know. But that’s what I wanted from the people around me back when I was trying to cope with Kevin. Not to have them treat me different.”

Kevin. The mention of his name makes my guts roil, but Jane says it almost without emotion.

“I’m going to go to bed. You should do the same. It was a long drive here.”

“Night, sis.”

She kisses my cheek and heads to her room.

I pull my cell from my pocket and swipe it on. No notifications—nope, didn’t expect that—but I shouldn’t delay the call anyway.

Settling on a swing on the front porch, I hit my contacts—consider FaceTime instead of phone—tap call, then speaker, and wait.

It rings only once before it’s answered.

“Yes.”

Single word.

Emotionless, though I know Alan knows it’s me.

My muscles go taut. “Sorry to call so late. It’s Jacob. Did you get the e-mail I sent you?”

I tensely wait through several moments of silence. “Yes, I did. You’re in the San Juan Islands. Correct?”

“We took two days driving up the coast. That’s why I didn’t call earlier. We’re on Orcas now. At my sister’s. I appreciated Chrissie and you not burning up my phone or Krystal’s, and giving us some space to be alone for a while together.”

“Is my daughter well?”

That edge to Alan’s voice ratchets up my nerves.

“Traveling was hard on her, but she’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you well?”

Not the questions I expected and not this soft, near inflectionless voice. I frown. “I’m doing all right.”

“Then you do what you need to do, Jacob, and don’t worry about us. That’s all I needed to hear. We’re here for you both any way you need us to be. We want what’s best for both Krystal and you.”

Click.

Blank screen.

I’m not sure what to make of that.

It went easier than I thought it would and felt horrible simultaneously. I sit in the dark, my legs absently pushing the swing, listening to waves crashing against the island.

I feel limp. Weak. But like maybe we’re finally unstuck from where we’ve been, and perhaps Krystal and I can start moving forward.

Fresh start.

Fresh location.

Nothing from the past and no clear future ahead.

Only us.

Here.

Not much of a solution.

But the best I could manage.

A small change.

Please, let it lead to a big change.

I want the pain to go away. And my wife not to hurt. And our marriage what it used to be.

Krystal isn’t only the woman I love, she’s my best friend, and without her I feel alone and cavernous inside. Emptiness that at times is suffocating.

I wait until my emotions drain out of me and I’m in control again, then I go back into the house to our room.

Krystal’s in bed, pillow against her back, but I can tell by how she’s breathing that she’s awake and only pretending to be asleep.

Quietly, I undress, leaving on my t-shirt with my briefs. I’d forgotten there was only a double bed in Janie’s spare room. Fuck, with Krystal’s security
don’t touch me
pillow that leaves me only two inches.

Not going to work.

I set my knee on the mattress. “Babe, you haven’t left me any room. Do you want me or the pillow in bed?”

Silence—fuck, why did I phrase it that way? Stupid, Jacob, you know the answer. You don’t need to hear it. I’m tired or I wouldn’t have said that.

After a painfully long wait, Krystal turns on the bed and lifts the pillow to me. My breath catches as my gaze meets hers and I quickly take it and lay it on the floor.

She rolls back on her side, and I ease beneath the blankets and turn off the light. With us both lying there motionless and awake, the minutes tick by agonizingly. She’s close, but we’re not touching, and I’m not sure if she’s ready for that yet.

Unsure my next stop won’t be the couch, I curl into her back, and she tenses. Gently, I put my hand on her hip and her flesh becomes more agitated. “Please, babe,” I whisper. “I’m only going to hold you, nothing more. I promise nothing more, ever, until you say it’s all right. I know you’re in pain and afraid. I am, too. Fight through the fear of having me close because this time it goes somewhere good. Maybe back to us. Maybe to not hurting so much anymore.”

Her ragged breathing punctuates the silence in the room, and her tense muscles are coiled like springs ready to flee should I make a move to take this further.

“I love you,” I whisper.

I wait and the only response I get is a faint sound as she sobs, her face buried into a pillow. Oh fuck, I’ve made her cry and I didn’t want that.

I run my hand slowly, barely touching, down her arm. “Shush, babe. I’ll go sleep on the sofa.”

I start to pull away, my body losing contact with hers, and she turns into me.

Her eyes are enormous on her face. “It’s not you, Jacob. I love you. I can’t stop the pictures in my head of what they did. When you touch me, I see them, and nothing I do makes it go away. But that’s not the part that makes this hard for me and not want you to touch me.”

The way she stares makes me want to crush her up against me, but she’s finally talking about this and I don’t want to do anything that might stop her.

I prop myself on an elbow. “Tell me, Krystal. Everything you’re thinking. Everything you’re feeling. I want to understand so I can be what you need me to be. Whatever it is we’ll deal with it together.”

Giant drops fall from her eyes. “I can’t bear the thought that when you touch me you see pictures, too. What they did to me. That you’ll not be able to get past that. That you won’t want me. And you’ll leave.”

Oh God.

My heart jumps into my throat.

“That’s never going to happen. I love you. Nothing is ever changing that.”

Her forehead touches my chest, and the dampness streams from her cheeks onto my skin. “I don’t think I could survive coming face-to-face with the reality that you don’t want me anymore because of what they did to me.”

“That’s never going to happen, Krystal.” Lightly I brush her hair back with just the tips of my fingers. “I’m touching you now, babe. I see only you. And want only you.”

“I’m so afraid, Jacob.”

“I know, babe.” This time I trail my palms down her back, caressing her. “You don’t have to be afraid with me. We can get through anything. We can get through this if we both hold on. I know we can. I know it won’t be easy. Trust me, Krystal. Let me be there for you.”

“I want to, Jacob. But I can’t find my way out of this. Every day I make it worse for you and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt you, but I do and I can’t seem to do things in a way that doesn’t hurt you. And I’m tired of the pain. Tired of failing. My entire life has been filled with pain, pushing toward things that’ve hurt us. Maybe it’s time I just stopped—stopped hurting you and stopped hurting me.”

“No. Never. If you give up on who you are, you give up on us, and I won’t let that happen.” I take her face in the spread of my fingers and lift her chin to look into my eyes. “Those things you think are your weaknesses, those are your strengths. They saved you, Krystal. Now use them to save us.”

“Krystal”

One year later

Jacob stands at the top, hands propping him as he leans between the rails and stares down at me.

“Come on, Krystal. You can do this. If you want to be with me you’ve got to come here.”

I’m almost sure I’m glaring at him. But really, why does every place on this earth have a beach with stairs built into the cliffs? Even one-mule Olga Village?

“I went to the beach that way. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

He laughs. “You climbed it yesterday. You can climb it today. If you can do it without whining, I’ll carry you back to the house.”

“Not funny, Jacob. I don’t whine.”

He crinkles up his nose. “You do a little, babe, but I’m not complaining. How’s your thigh? We pushed this run today.”

“It’s good.” Surprisingly, that’s the truth. “A twinge now and then, to be expected, but it carries me where I wanna go.”

His hazel orbs turn lush and he does that little grab of his lower lip with his teeth that is so adorable—Jacob being dorky sexy.

“Then carry yourself up here. Now.”

I stay on the sand. “Carry me up there if you want me.”

“Oh, I want you.”

He trots down the steps and lowers in front of me with his back facing. “Climb on. We’re doing this piggy-back style.”

I erupt into laughter. “How come?”

“Don’t ask. Just do.”

I settle on his back and take hold around his neck, and he sprints back up the stairs.

I notice a couple ahead on the path. Into his ear, I whisper, “Did you see how they looked at us? Like we’re too old to behave this way. So embarrassing. Maybe you should put me down now.”

“Not embarrassing. Romantic.”

I trail light kisses across the back of his neck. “Romantic, huh? This was the best you could think of to get me into bed?”

“No, it was the fastest way I could think of to get you home and into
bed.”

He turns down the path to Jane’s house. I swat at a tree limb to keep it from hitting us.

“Is your sister home yet?”

“No,” he says, heavy with meaning. “Why did you think I wanted you to hurry?”

“Oh—you should have just said that. I would have come up the stairs on my own.”

When I start to laugh, he begins a galloping bounce beneath me.

Unceremoniously he drops me on our bed, then kicks closed the door behind us. I stare up at him, and heat moves through my veins and elsewhere. He pulls off his shirt before settling on his knees beside me and slowly easing up my sports top.

“Did I say”—I suck in air as he rolls a nipple in his fingers—“that you could touch me?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. Didn’t have to. The way you looked at me gave it away.”

He does a light tug, twirl, and blow that I feel between my legs, my back arching as my fingers curl on the blankets. How does he do that? Give me only the faintest touch and fill me with shuddering waves. Damn, he’s turned slow hand, slow everything into an art form.

My lids drift closed as his fingers dance across my flesh—featherlight and asking—then the touch of his lips alternates with his caresses.

He undresses the top half of me and his face lowers as his hand moves to my thigh, grazing leisurely upward, closer, then to my sex, but stops without touching me there. The tongue gently twirling in my mouth shoots tremors down my body and when I arch up, wanting the feel of him everywhere, he retreats.

Oh fuck.

My eyes fly open.

He brushes back the hair from my face and waits.

Even with the frustration pulsing through me, I laugh. “Stop teasing my body and get on with it.”

He circles my navel with his tongue then pushes in, tickling, and lifts his head. “No, no hurry.”

I start tugging at his shorts and he makes little moves so I get them off him. “Please, baby, I want you now.”

Through frantic kisses and hungry hands, we undress, and I let out a ragged moan as he enters me.

“Oh, baby, that’s good,” I whimper, wrapping my arms and legs tightly around him.

Too soon we come apart and lie breathless together, smiling.