End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) (20 page)

Jillian was infuriating.
She was also strong, sexy, playful, and
compassionate.
AJ thought of her as Wonder Woman, Judge Judy, Mother Teresa, and Ellen Degeneres molded into a wet dream. She was seriously flawed and had a fucking larger-than-life attitude. But what drew him in was her vulnerability; it was fleeting like a shooting star. It was there and gone in a blink, but he’d caught a glimpse of it and he recognized it—it was his reflection.

“You
are
too sexy for this neighborhood … any neighborhood, really.” He started walking toward home, chastising himself for making what was a true compliment sound like a grumpy complaint.

“But …” Jillian followed a step behind.

“But what?”

“Compliments like that usually come with a but.”

“No but, it’s just a fact.”

“Oh.”

Jillian at a loss for words wasn’t something AJ ever imagined he’d witness. The irony was her silence left him speechless too.

“Can I make you breakfast?” AJ spoke the first words that popped into his head as they neared his house. He hadn’t set out to shock her, but the wide-eyed look she gave him made it clear that’s what he had done, yet again.

“I’m a veg—”

“I know. I’ll keep my big sausage to myself. Oatmeal fine?”

She laughed. He made an attempt to smile, but it was difficult. Anger, pain, and resentment had hardened him over the years. He felt undeserving of those rare moments of pleasure and happiness. They felt stolen, as if around the corner someone was waiting with their hand out demanding he give them back.

“Oatmeal sounds perfect.” She followed him inside.

“I’m going to take a quick shower first.”

“Want some company?” Jillian offered before she gulped down the glass of water he’d handed her.

Confusion impaired his ability to find actual words, so he just stared at her. “Uh—”

“I’m kidding. Go do your thing, but hurry up because I’m starving.”

After a slow nod, he pivoted and walked toward his bathroom, hands fisted while he released the breath he’d been holding. Of course he wanted to shower with Jillian. The aching need he had to feel her body against his was almost unbearable. But whatever was going on between them had not been defined and was the anti-normal of any relationship he’d ever imagined, possibly of any relationship that had ever existed.

In a blink he was showered and back in the kitchen.

“That was fast. Were you afraid I might rob your hidden treasures?”

AJ pulled a sauce pan out of the cabinet. “No, just kill my fish. Oh, that’s right … you already did that.”

Jillian smirked. His attempt at humor was borderline pathetic, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Where did you and Jackson move here from?”

“The East Coast,” she answered almost before he finished asking the question.

“The East Coast, huh? Why not just say North America?”

She laughed. “New York.”

“Is that where you’re originally from?”

“Yes.”

“And what brought you to Omaha?” AJ continued as he stirred the oatmeal.

“We’ve just always dreamed of living in a more
mature
community but everything out east is too expensive.”

He shook his head. “I’m serious. Do your parents live in New York?”

“They died.”

AJ grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

Jillian shrugged, casting her gaze out the window. “Me too.”

“It’s a little odd that at your age you decided to relocate with your brother. Were neither of you in a serious relationship?”

“Jackson doesn’t know what a serious relationship is.”

“And you?”

Jillian’s brow set with firm lines. “You’ve met me … been with me, what do you think?”

“I think you ran out of submissives and had to move because of your reputation.”

She laughed, even though he wasn’t smiling. “Bingo!”

“How did your parents die?”

Jillian’s face drained of all color as she cleared her throat. “Car accident.”

“Jillian … I’m—”

She shook her head. “It happens. People die every day. What about you? Are you originally from here?”

AJ placed a bowl of oatmeal, maple syrup, spices, and milk in front of her. “No, I was born in Portland, but my father was in the service so we were never in one place for all that long. My father is retired now and he and my mother live in Portland again. Actually, Dodge was in the service with my father and he and Lilith were neighbors for a while until Dodge transferred a few years before he retired and moved to Omaha to be closer to their daughter.”

“Really? Funny, Dodge never mentioned that to me. Then again, he has a way of talking about a whole bunch of absolutely nothing.”

“They’re good people.”

“The best. This looks great. You’re quite the cook.”

“Oatmeal and water doesn’t qualify me as ‘quite the cook.’”

“Yeah, well you haven’t seen me cook.”

“Did your mom not cook much?”

“She was an amazing cook.” Jillian grabbed her spoon and stared at it for a moment. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

The popping sizzle of bacon AJ tossed on the griddle bought him a few extra moments of time while he gathered the courage to answer her. “Sure. You start.”

Jillian stirred her oatmeal. “It was good sex … I mean, it’s been well over six months so my standards may have slipped a bit, but nonetheless, it was
decent
.”

“Decent. Nice word choice.”

She smirked.

“You like to inflict pain.” He stared at the bacon.

“No.”

“No?” AJ looked over with a wide-eyed incredulous expression.

“I like to make a statement.”

“That says?”

“I’m not weak.”

AJ nodded as he set the bacon on a paper towel. “Were you abused?”

“No. Were you?”

He flinched. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’ve made you bleed more than once, yet here I am sitting in your kitchen, eating breakfast. Is it the PTSD?”

“Who said I have PTSD?”

“Cage.”

AJ sighed. “Doctors are full of shit. It’s some goddamn forgone conclusion that any problem a soldier has after they return home is fucking PTSD. So if that’s what you think too, then just leave.”

There it was, the monster that resided in his head. He could never predict what would trigger it. Sometimes AJ felt as if he was on the outside looking in. He recognized the figure, even the voice, but the words belonged to someone else and they wouldn’t be silenced.

Jillian pushed the rest of her oatmeal away. “I have to shower anyway.”

“Cock tease,” AJ grumbled as the anger spread like poison though his veins.

“What did you just say?” Jillian turned.

He felt the burning heat and tumultuous chaos of rage building inside. Jillian needed to leave, yet AJ needed an outlet. He could never explain the most excruciating pain was always the personality that hijacked his brain without warning.

“Go fuck somebody else today. I’m not in the mood.” He looked up at her, his mind willing her to just leave, but the monster growling out his words beckoned her to stay and take every insult like an emotional punching bag.

Her jaw clenched. “Don’t push me, AJ.”

“Or what?” he challenged.

“Goodbye.” She walked toward the door.

“You’re all talk.” AJ couldn’t keep the words from coming out. It was like two personalities duking it out in his head. His body and everyone in its wake were nothing more than collateral damage.

Before he had a chance to think past his last breath, he was gasping for his next while he buckled over in pain. Like a quick flash of light, he saw her face, then grabbed his nose and his world went black.

An incessant sting to one cheek and then the next, over and over as a familiar voice droned on, brought him back into the light.

“Wake up, asshole.” Jillian gave each cheek one last wake-up slap.

He peeled his eyes open and Jillian’s face, directly above him, came into focus. Her soft feminine features were hardened, eyes squinted.

“Your nose isn’t broken, but it’s bleeding like a son of a bitch, so get your ass off the floor and pinch it before you stain your grout.” She tossed a dish rag on his face. He grabbed it then rolled to his side. “If I were you, I’d accept the PTSD label otherwise you’re just a prick.”

“Like you’re a fucking angel,” he grumbled while lumbering to his feet, right hand squeezing his nose.

“Not even close, but at least I acknowledge my dysfunctional behavior and recognize the cause.” She slammed the door.

J
illian reserved the
right to hate AJ for his venomous words. However, she knew that wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t control his behavior any easier than she could control hers. He’d been verbally abusive and she’d been physically abusive. Neither were excusable. His refusal to acknowledge his PTSD left them in a complicated situation. She had a slew of questions about his past, including the demise of his marriage. However, questioning him would have been an open invitation for him to continue exploring the life of pre-Omaha Jillian, which was impossible because it didn’t exist … it couldn’t exist.

“Dahlia wants to ‘go all the way’ tonight,” Jackson announced as Jillian shoved some snacks in her bag to take to Dodge’s house.

“Dahlia?”

“Yes, the girl I’ve been seeing.”

Jillian looked up from her bag and squinted. “Sesame Street girl?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “Well, my dear brother, my words of wisdom are to
go and play, everything will be A-OK
.”

“Real funny. But I’m not taking her virginity.” Jackson stretched then interlaced his fingers behind his head.

“What’s wrong? Mr. Snuffleupagus under the weather?”

“No. Her mom had a lesson today and asked me not to
go and play
.”

Jillian’s eyes bulged as she laughed. “Seriously? Her mom asked you to not sleep with her daughter?”

“Not directly. She just went on and on about how thrilled she is that Dahlia’s dating someone mature, and because I have a cross tattooed on my arm she just knows I’m the type of guy who respects the sacredness of waiting until ‘vows are exchanged’ before taking a woman’s ‘flower.’”

“And of course you told her the reason you got that sacred tattoo ten years ago was to convince an unsuspecting virgin that you were a man of God who would cherish her forever if she gave herself to you.”

Jackson shook his head. “You and your bullshit story. That’s not what happened and you know it. I was going to get another tattoo anyway, and she wanted to watch. She told me if I let her pick out the tattoo, she’d have sex with me. I’d been eyeing the cross anyway. I wouldn’t permanently mark myself just for some chick.”

“You’re pathetic.”

He leaned against the counter, crossing his hands over his chest as Jillian stared at the cross. “I’ll admit, that Jude guy had a way with the ladies.” He pursed his lips like the cocky bastard he was.

“Male whore … he was a male whore. So why the loyalty to Dahlia’s mom? I’m sure her daughter won’t tell her mom if you two have sex. It’s not like she’s underage.”

Jackson shrugged and Jillian gave him a wrinkled face filled with distrust before leaving for Dodge’s.

“It’s the mom.” She turned before closing the door, having an ah-ha moment.

“What?”

“You like the mom … not the daughter. You won’t sleep with both because you’ve never been the Benjamin Braddock type. And you like older women; rarely do you go for the young twenty-somethings. I’m right.”

“You’re not.” Jackson firmed his jaw to contain his grin.

“I’m soooo right.” Jillian winked and shut the door.

The knowing smile on her face faded as she passed AJ’s house. In less than twenty four hours they’d fought twice and had sex three times. Whatever was between them was virulent, but too addictive to ignore. She needed him to remind her to not let her guard down and that was what earned him a bloodied nose. Any other guy would have filed a restraining order, but not AJ. Everything he did was a silent plea for more.
More,
that only Jillian could hear and only Jillian could give.

“Where’s your Harley?” Dodge asked when he opened the door for her.

“Taking a nap, getting rested up for when I ride it hard later this evening.” She grinned.

Dodge made several sounds but none of them formed into decipherable words.

“I’m relentless like that.” Jillian elbowed his arm as she made her way inside. Lilith’s smile came to life when she spotted Jillian. “Hi, Lilith. Did you eat?”

“Leftover steak from last night, but she’s been bugging me to warm up the leftover apple pie Stan’s wife made for
her.
” Dodge grumbled out the last few words.

“You don’t get any?”

“Stan’s wife, Lynette, said I need to lose some weight or Lilith’s going to outlive me. And it will be a cold day in hell before I drop dead first. She’d sell my golf cart to some schmuck that actually plays golf!”

Lilith smiled at Jillian.

“How do you communicate with her?”

Dodge shook his head. “Fist pumps, flying middle fingers, eye rolls, and scowls.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “I’ll get her some pie. Maybe she’ll share with me. It sounds better than the banana and granola bar I packed.”

Dodge grabbed his raincoat. “That’s a given. She likes you … and she hasn’t even seen you get the mail.” Dodge wiggled his brows and snickered as he slipped out the back door.

“Dirty old man,” Jillian murmured.

Lilith savored every last crumb of the warm apple pie, and Jillian found herself tempted to lick her plate too. Stan’s wife may not have made a lot of sweet treats for him, but her apple pie was a true slice of heaven. Jillian handed Lilith her book and took their plates to the kitchen.

“I had sex with Sarge yesterday, then I nearly broke his nose today. Luke would be so disappointed in me.” She kept her back to Lilith so she couldn’t see the tears that filled Jillian’s eyes.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m not the sappy lovesick heroine that says a man ‘completes’ her, but I was the best possible version of myself with Luke. Everything I feared before him just … vanished. I felt like a leaf falling from a tree and he was the wind whispering,
I’ve got you
. I’m here for my brother. I would have stayed … I would have died. It’s like the thrill seeker who goes full throttle all the time, never fearing death because eight seconds of that rush is worth more than eighty years of boring monotony. Luke was my eight seconds.”