Complex Kisses (Here & Now Book 1) Read online

  “The part where you told me that you’d been putting on fake smiles and pretending everything was okay, when it really wasn’t.”

  “Ah. That part,” he acknowledges, dropping the smile. “Yeah, I remember it well. Guess some things become habit, without meaning them too.”

  “Well you don’t need to fake it around me. You know I understand a bit of what you’re going through. And after yesterday …” I sigh.

  How do I say this?

  I want to express my sincere gratitude for his compassion. But I’m not willing to admit that I may be feeling something more than our shared sadness. I can’t trust any of my own emotions right now, and he’s still a complete stranger in so many ways. Honestly, I don’t know if my obsessive thoughts of him are because he’s been kind during such a stressful time, or because there might actually be some kind of spark between us. Or maybe, it’s just because he’s extremely hot and I haven’t had sex in forever.

  “Well,” I continue, “I would hope that after yesterday, you wouldn’t feel the need to bullshit me. You helped me out, and if I can return the favor, I’d like too.”

  Closing his eyes and dropping his head, Eric lets out a giant sigh. I’m not sure but I think it might be a sigh of relief. He doesn’t say anything for a while but the silence is comfortable. It’s like we’re old friends - him gathering his thoughts, me ready to hear what’s on his mind.

  With his head still bowed, he opens his eyes and speaks softly, “Caleb started another round of chemo yesterday afternoon. This one’s heavy-duty, and he’ll get some crazy radiation treatment today. And then, in about a week, he’ll have a stem-cell transplant.”

  Despite being ignorant to the full ramifications of what he’s just explained, I understand enough to know that it’s serious. Eric’s expression alone would give away that fact.

  “The doctor’s really optimistic. He said it if it all works the way he expects, Caleb will be okay. There’s a lot of research that’s been done with his type of cancer. Lots of other people with Hodgkin’s have done well after this treatment.” He pauses, breathing heavily. “But, seeing him in that room, getting the meds pumped into him.” He pauses again, this time with a choked breath. “He looked so young and vulnerable. He didn’t look like himself laying in that bed.” He chokes again. “My mother had a bit of a breakdown. My dad and I - we just try to stay strong for her. For Caleb. But I know my dad was holding it back, same as me. And Caleb - it’s been such a struggle for him already. He still has a lot of fighting left to do. I worry … I worry …”

  With his voice wavering and his breathing ragged, he doesn’t continue his sentence. Shaking his head subtly, Eric just closes his eyes again.

  Seeing him like this is heartbreaking. He’s worried about Caleb’s fight, but he’s the one battling right now.

  Pushing my sandwich aside, I reach out. Stretching myself across the table, I cover his hand with my own. When he looks at me, his eyes shine from unshed tears. With another big breath, he turns his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together, and squeezes. Squeezing back, I let him know I’m here for him.

  For a long time, we sit holding hands, staring at each other. It’s like we’re having an entire conversation without saying a single word. It’s incredibly comfortable - until it isn’t. The outside world starts to creep in on me, especially when Eric starts lightly stroking the back of my hand. Electricity shoots up my arm as I watch his thumb pressing slightly into my flesh, the muscles in his arm standing out, his biceps clearly defined without flexing. Dragging my eyes up, I focus back on his gorgeous face. God, I can’t seem to get enough of his perfectly handsome face. His eyes are no longer moist, his jaw’s lost most of its tension, his mouth’s soft, and his hair’s tousled from running his fingers through it repeatedly. He looks relaxed. And sexy. Like, I want to get naked with him sexy.

  There is absolutely no denying, I am ridiculously attracted to this man. And I feel like a complete asshole because of it. He’s just poured out his anguished soul to me and all I can think about is how perfect it would feel to be holding more than just his hand.

  It's probably time to get the hell out of here. Before I do something regrettable, like leap across the table and tackle him.

  But as I start to pull away, Eric seizes me with a deadly look. Squeezing my hand tighter, he drags me forward, stopping my escape and bringing me closer. We’re face-to-face, only a few inches apart. And now I just want to kiss him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He murmurs. In another setting, I’d call it seductive.

  “What?”

  “Where are you running off too?”

  “Running off? Nowhere, I just thought …” Looking around the room, I take note of all the exits, coming up with an excuse to leave. “I need to get back to my dad’s room,” I blurt out quickly, cringing at the callous way I’ve just made my own problems seem more important. Again.

  “How’s he doing?” He asks, as he lessens his hold, allowing me a bit of breathing room.

  “I don’t really know. He has moments when he seems to be fading so fast but then he’ll come back around for a while a be a bit more like his old self. It’s a lot harder to watch than I thought it would be.”

  We sit in silence for another moment, until Eric squeezes my hand again.

  “Can I come meet him?”

  “What?”

  My shock is evident in my voice and I’m sure it’s written all over my face as well. Why the hell would he want to come meet my father?

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Why not? You’ve met my family. I just figured maybe you could use a little moral support. You’re here all by yourself, aren’t you?”

  Not knowing what more to say, I simply nod my head.

  “Jamie, I may not know much about your situation, but it seems like an awful lot to deal with by yourself. Even if you are a tough girl.” He winks at me, conspiratorially.

  He’s probably right. I’ve been dealing with stuff on my own for so long, it seems odd to ask for help. Can I even consider leaning on this man, more than I already have?

  “You’ve got a lot going on too. I don’t want to add to your stress, Eric.”

  “Okay. I’ll probably sound crazy saying this, but I’m finding it less stressful, focusing on someone else’s problems for a change. I’ve been wrapped up in my own head for too fucking long.”

  That does sound a bit crazy. But maybe it is possible for me to help him, simply by allowing him to help me.

  “What do you say, beautiful? Should we go say hey to your old man?”

  Just the thought of introducing a guy to my dad makes me laugh.

  “How about you walk me to his room? No offense, but I doubt he’d want to meet you. He’s not exactly friendly with strangers. Or anyone, really.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Slowly, we walk out of the cafeteria and saunter down the hall, Eric holding my hand the entire time. With neither of us in any hurry to get to our destination, our forward progress drags. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so slowly in my life. It’s like we’re finding excuses to be in each other’s company as long as possible. How odd that we’ve only known each other for two days. It feels like so much more. And I’m starting to believe that maybe my attraction to him isn’t completely one-sided. He’s still holding my hand, that thumb of his still smoothing circles on the back of mine. Holding hands in a hospital is in no way erotic, but there’s no denying that Eric’s touch has an effect on me.

  “What are you doing later?” His odd question breaks the steady silence we’ve been sharing.

  “Besides sitting around this place? I don’t know. I need to get over to my dad’s house soon, so maybe I’ll do that.”

  “Your dad’s house? What’s so important at your dad’s house?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just - no one’s been over there since he was admitted. It’s probably a disaster and I should evaluate what kind of work it’ll need. To se
ll it. You know, once he … you know. Once he’s gone.”

  Wrapping his other hand around my wrist, Eric pulls me slightly toward him again, until our arms are touching. We’re practically leaning on each other as we stroll along.

  “Would you like me to go with you?”

  Would I like Eric to go with me? To my father’s house?

  I know the place is going to be an embarrassing disaster, but more than that, I’m worried about what my reaction might be to it. Being back in my childhood home after ten years is, no doubt, going to be traumatic. Thinking about Eric being there with me, through that?

  Despite it being one of the worst ideas in the history of ideas, I find myself humming in agreement to it.

  “Is that a yes?” He chuckles.

  “I guess so,” I stammer, “I mean - you don’t have to. I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. The place is probably a complete mess. And I’ll need to make a list. It’s going to be boring, and possibly gross ...”

  “Jamie, stop.” He tugs my arm just a little bit more. “Let’s make a deal. No more pretenses. Let’s both agree to just cut the bullshit with each other. Okay?”

  No more pretenses. God, how wonderful it sounds to just be myself around someone for a change. To not have to worry about how they’re perceiving me. To not pretend to be better than I actually am. I can’t remember the last person I met who got the real me.

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Good. I don’t care how bad your dad’s place is. If you want some company, I’ll go. If you don’t want me there? Well, then I’ll stay here.”

  “Don’t you want to stay with your family?”

  “Honestly?” He looks down at our joined hands, a slight frown creasing his brow. “I think I need some space from them. We’ve all just been sitting around, looking at the walls and listening to my mom cry. She tries so hard to hold it in. But she never can. Plus, my brother and sister are on their way. It’s going to be chaos with all of us here. I don’t want Caleb to get overwhelmed. I think I could use an afternoon out. Especially if it’s with you.”

  My body tingles, with the thought that he wants to spend the time with me, even if it is just a distraction from his troubles.

  “How many siblings do you have?” I ask, ignoring the flush of excitement sweeping through me.

  “Just the three. Caleb, Celeste and Marc. I’m the oldest, then Celeste. Marc was the youngest until my parents had their late in life surprise, Caleb. I love them all, but Caleb - he’s pretty special to me.”

  “Yeah. You two seem really close.”

  “We are. It’s funny, considering our age difference, but I kind of helped raise him. He’s been like my little shadow most of his life. He followed me around so much when he was little, people thought he was my kid. Man, the looks we’d get. There are a lot of judgmental assholes in this world, let me tell you. Although, at seventeen - can’t imagine myself as a parent. That would have been a nightmare.”

  His words trigger my body to stiffen in defense. I’m ready to give a verbal tongue lashing if he dares cross me about teenage parenthood. It’s my knee-jerk reaction anytime the topic’s raised.

  Eric doesn’t seem to notice the change in my demeanor or the hesitation in my step. Of course, he doesn’t understand how much his words have affected me. How could he? He doesn’t know that I was pregnant with my son at the age of seventeen, that I officially became a mom only twenty-one days after my eighteenth birthday, and that people did criticize. They were rude and condescending. Hell, they still are a lot of times. I still get lots of sideways glances and dirty looks when Hunter calls me “mom” in public. Granted, I do look young. Regardless, Eric’s right. The judgment hurts.

  Would Eric judge me?

  Never once have I considered Hunter something to be hidden. He’s not a mistake or a burden or even a happy accident. He’s precious. The absolute best thing in my life. Protecting him is second nature though, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to find out if Eric has a problem with it.

  Stuck in my own head, silence once again stretches between us, until Eric tugs on my hand again and asks, “Hey, Jamie?”

  Worrying that he’s noticed my somber expression and not wanting to explain myself, I avoid meeting his eyes.

  “How old are you?” He asks, surprising me.

  “What? Me? I’m twenty-seven. Why? How old are you?”

  “You’re twenty-seven? Seriously? Fuck, I’ve got to be honest, I thought you were a hell of a lot younger. Actually, when I first noticed you with Caleb, I thought for once he was actually hitting on a girl close to his own age. I mean, I figured out pretty quickly that you were older, but … hell, I don’t know. I guess I was worried you were, barely over eighteen or something.” He smiles, looking almost guilty. “I’m thirty-one.”

  “Ah! So, you were worried that you might be holding hands with a girl who isn’t old enough to buy her own beer?” I smile, and he laughs out loud, startling a couple passing by us in the hall.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Stopping across the hallway from my dad’s room, I turn to face him. I feel like the teenager he feared I was. It’s like, every time I look at him I become a silly sixteen-year-old version of myself, drooling over the hot new boy in town.

  “This is it.” I look up to his intense green gaze.

  “You sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”

  “I’m sure. Thank you, Eric.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Jamie. You’ve made me feel a lot better about shit already. And now I can’t wait to go back and rub it in Caleb’s face that I’ll be seeing you again.”

  Laughing together, Eric pulls my arm up and around his back as he steps in toward me. I’m caught slightly off guard as he leans in and gives me a light, friendly hug. It’s warm and inviting, and I wish that it could last a hell of a lot longer than mere seconds.

  “So, I’ll meet you back here? How about in an hour?”

  “Sounds good,” I say, turning toward my father’s door.

  When I reach the other side of the hall, I look back and catch him staring at me. Was he just checking out my ass? Is it wrong if I pray that he was?

  “You really thought I was only eighteen?” I ask playfully.

  “I was worried there was a slight possibility,” he laughs. “But, Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really happy that you’re not.” His smirk is huge and the glint in his eye, completely wicked. “I’ll see you in an hour, beautiful.”

  God. I don’t think I can hold on that long. It’s very likely that I’ll be running the mental reel of Eric and all his sexy looks for the next hour while I wait.

  * * *

  Jamie’s key isn’t working. We’re standing on the front porch of her dad’s house, Jamie trying her key for the third time, her face growing redder by the minute.

  “Is there another door we could try?” I offer.

  “Damn! Of course! We used to keep a spare key. Come on, let’s try the back door.”

  Following her around the house, I get caught up in staring at her ass again. This girl’s really starting to get under my skin. I can’t keep my eyes off her, or stop my mind from turning everything into an innuendo.

  Try the back door, she said?

  Yes, fucking please.

  My dirty thoughts are out of control. I need to get my libido in check. She already caught me eying her curves at the hospital. I don’t want her to think I’m just trying to get in her pants.

  Although, I bet those pants would peel off rather nicely, and I am one hundred percent convinced that I’d do practically anything to get a good long look at a pant-less Jamie. Make that one hundred and ten percent.

  Shit!

  My little brother must have had a sixth sense about my douchebag level around this girl. I’m really glad Caleb isn’t here to witness my spiral into perversion. He’d be giving me a new nickname. I’d be McDouchey or Douche-Master Supreme or somethin
g equally ludicrous, although probably really fitting.

  All of the worries and chaos surrounding us, plus the fact that I’m certain she already has a guy in her life - none of it’s enough to stop my growing desire for her.

  Living in the moment is taking on new meaning.

  All I can think about is taking advantage of my time with Jamie. Making it really fucking count. I want to fill our moments with excited moans, and contented sighs. I want to actually stop pretending, the way I’ve promised, and let her know how badly I want her.

  I don’t think my new life philosophy is supposed to make me completely reckless, but I’m definitely losing what little control I have left. The problem is, I’m getting comfortable with life being unrestrained. I want to be wild, I want to be free. And I want to be those things with Jamie.

  But given the circumstance, my own cravings need to be set aside. Focusing on helping her is supposed to be the thing distracting me from my troubles. Not getting her naked.

  As Jamie shuffles around the back deck, looking under potted plants and on top of window sills, I’m busy taking some rather large, deep breaths and trying to focus on anything other than the peek of black lace and curve of breast that teases me each time she bends forward.

  I’m calming but Jamie seems to be getting more frustrated by the second. When I hear her swearing under her breath again, I bravely walk toward the sliding glass door on the back of the house and pull. Why not give it a try?

  Jamie is obviously as shocked as I am when the damned thing slides open effortlessly.

  We both just stand there for a moment, her staring at the open doorway, me staring at her. She seems so hesitant. I know that she’s nervous being here. What I don’t know is if those nerves are because of what she might find beyond the doorway, or because she’s worried about me witnessing her possible reaction to it. She’s warned me multiple times now to expect a disaster when we walk through the door. I haven’t asked why. I also haven’t asked about the obvious nature of her relationship with her father. The fact that she doesn’t know the state of his house but worries for the worst, tells me more than enough. I don’t need to ask, even though I really want to.