Be with Me(Wait for You)

Chapter Thirty-two





Tiny flakes of snow had begun to fall the moment we’d left Shepherdstown. It was in the late afternoon, and the chilly air seemed to seep through every crevice in Jase’s Jeep and no matter how high he had the heater cranked, it didn’t get warm enough.

Jase held my hand as we drove in silence. My knuckles were still swollen from when I hit Erik, but the rest of the scrapes and bruises had healed for the most part.

The first couple of nights after Erik had snapped had been the hardest. Thank God Jase had attached himself to my hip, being there when I’d awoken from a nightmare and staying up when I was too antsy to fall back asleep. He’d put those wee hours in the middle of the night to good use, distracting me from the dark memories that lingered from those hours spent with Erik.

I glanced over at him, and my heart did a little flip. He loved me. He was in love with me. My brain still whirled with all the possibilities of what that meant in the long term for us.

Squeezing his hand, I smiled reassuringly when he glanced over. Worry deepened his eyes to a steel gray. When he’d woken up this morning and asked if I’d do this with him before we went over to his parents for Christmas Eve, I’d been shocked but glad that he was taking such a huge step.

“You okay?” I asked.

Locks of brown hair flipped out from the gray knit toboggan. “It feels weird that you’re the one asking me that.”

“True.” From the knee injury to Debbie’s death and Erik’s breakdown, all his concern had been focused on me. “But I’m asking you.”

“I’m . . . I don’t know.” He paused as he turned right, cutting through a gas station. “I’m sad. Confused. Weirdly happy, like I’m proud of myself, and that sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. You should be proud of yourself.”

A quick smile appeared and then vanished. “I guess I’m just feeling everything.”

Which was understandable. It had been years since Kari’s death, but this was a first for him. I squeezed his hand again.

By the time we arrived at the cemetery, a light dusting of snow blanketed the grounds. Based on his parents’ directions, he turned right into the cemetery and followed the curve until the large, bare oak tree came into view.

Kari’s gravesite would be near the tree—five gravesides over to be exact.

He parked on the shoulder. Only then did he pull his hand free to turn off the engine, but he made no move to exit the vehicle. Instead, he stared over, toward the tree. Branches swayed in the gentle wind.

A knot formed in my chest. “You really ready to do this? Because we can do it another time.”

“I’m ready,” he replied quietly after a few moments. “I need to do this.”

I agreed. Jase had moved on, but he hadn’t fully let go. All these years he’d treated Kari’s death like she’d broken up with him. That she was out there somewhere, living a life, and maybe that had helped him get over her loss, but he hadn’t completely come to terms with it. It was why he’d pushed me away after admitting that he’d loved me. I got all that now. It was the fear he’d carried for years of loving someone and losing them.

Several minutes passed and then he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

He opened the car door and a blast of cold air rushed in. I did the same, pulling my gloves out of my pocket as he grabbed the poinsettias we’d picked up at the nearby grocery store on the way to the cemetery.
     



My boots crunched over the frozen grass and light snow as I joined him on the other side of the Jeep. He stopped and glanced down at me. The uncertainty and vulnerability in his expression tore at my heart. With his free hand, unprotected from the elements, he reached between us. I immediately gave him my gloved hand. Through the wool, the weight of our joined hands seemed to give him strength to move forward.

We were silent as we passed the stones, and I tried not to think of Debbie’s funeral and how Erik had blamed me for her death in front of the entire procession, but it was hard. She was buried here too, but on the other side of the main road.

Cemeteries were supposed to be peaceful, but the stillness—the utter lack of life—always gave me the creeps. Today was different though. As we got near the great oak, I wasn’t thinking of the Night of the Living Dead or the fact there were a whole bunch of bodies under our feet.

I was only thinking about Jase and how hard this was for him.

When Jase suddenly stopped, I knew we were at Kari’s grave. Following his gaze, I drew in a shallow breath.

The gravestone was made of polished, gray marble and the head was shaped in a heart. An angel praying had been engraved in the stone, and below the kneeling figure was the name Kari Ann Tinsmen, and the birth and death dates were unfairly close.

This was her. No face. No body. Her whole life was summed up in the calligraphy below the dates, Loving sister, daughter, and mother, asleep with the angels.

Mother.

A knot formed in my throat. Kari never really had a chance to be a mother. Hell, she really hadn’t the chance to be any of those things.

Jase shook his head slowly as he stared at the gravesite. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking. Probably a little of everything as he stood there, going through their short life together.

A lot of things Jase had said in the past made sense now. How he’d sworn that beautiful things could come from tragedy. He’d known that firsthand. An unexpected pregnancy had given him Jack, and a tragic death had pushed him in the right direction.

The same could be said about losing the ability to dance. I hoped that through teaching, I could actually make a difference in the world and wasn’t that why people became teachers? Sure as hell wasn’t for the money. The reasoning was deeper than that, more substantial. Teachers molded the future. Dancers entertained. And it wasn’t like I would never be a part of that world again. I had my goal of getting Avery back in the studio and could help out with the really young dancers if I wanted to.

And I wanted to.

That’s the thing about death that makes it useful. Death was always a reminder to the living to live—to live in the present and to look forward to the future.

“She was a really . . . good girl,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

My smile felt watery. “I’m sure she was.”

He stared at the tombstone for a stretch. In his hand, the red poinsettias petals trembled. I doubted it was from the bitter cold. “She loved winter and the snow.” He paused, throat working as he looked up. Flakes of the white stuff fell in heavier patches. His words were thick as he spoke again. “This is kind of fitting, I think.”

I watched a rather large snowflake come to rest on the curve of the marble stone.

Jase drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I think Jack gets that from her. You know, the love of winter. It’s his favorite season. Might be because of Christmas, but I like to think it’s because of her.”

I squeezed his hand. “Winter isn’t a bad season.”

One side of his lips moved up. “I’m a summer kind of guy.” He eased his fingers free from mine and stepped forward. Kneeling down, he placed the pretty red flowers at the base of her headstone.

Silent, I watched him tug off his toboggan and bow his head and I didn’t know if he was praying or if he was talking to Kari. Either way, I felt like I was eavesdropping; it was such an intimate, sad moment.

Blinking away tears, I fixed my gaze on the tree and swallowed hard. Snow coated the bare branches, causing the thin tips to turn down at the edges.

When Jase returned to my side, he’d pulled the toboggan back on and the tip of his nose looked as red as mine felt. “Do you mind if we stay for a few more moments? I know it’s freezing and you can wait—”

“I’m okay.” If he wanted to stay here for a month, I’d be right beside him. “We can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you.” His spine lost some of its stiffness as he draped his arm over my shoulders. Tugging me against the shelter of his body, he rested his cheek against the top of my head and sighed. “Thank you for being here with me.”


The Winstead farm was decked out.

It looked like Santa threw up holiday cheer all over the grounds, but in a good way. Multicolored lights covered the split-rail fence lining the driveway. Red, green, and blue twinkled off the barn, and the entire front of the house glimmered like a giant, square disco ball.

Jase chuckled as my eyes widened, which made me smile, because it was the first he’d laughed since we’d left the cemetery. “My parents go a little crazy during Christmas, especially because of Jack.”

A little? There was an inflatable Santa sitting off the right of the porch. On the roof, there were eight plastic reindeers. Rudolph, the ninth and most important reindeer, was MIA. A plastic Santa was perched on the chimney, complete with a bag of gifts.

There was a giant frosty snow globe, bubble thing in front of the porch. Through the large windows, I could see the lights from the Christmas tree. My parents tended to stick to the one Christmas light color theme, but I liked this better. There was something warmer about the chaos of lights.

“We’re going to leave the presents in the Jeep,” he said as we climbed out. “You know, Santa hasn’t arrived yet.”

I grinned. “Santa looks a little drunk on the roof.”

He looked up and laughed as the wind caused the plastic Santa to spin on the chimney. “That’s my kind of Santa.”

I lingered at the steps, dragging my boot in the dusting of snow. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

Shooting me a look, he placed his hands on my shoulders and lowered his head so that we were eye level. “Of course. Mom and Dad are happy that you’re spending Christmas Eve with us, and they know you know the truth.” He smoothed a hand over my head and tucked my hair back behind my ear. “I think they’re more excited about you being here than me.”
     



I laughed. “That’s because I’m pretty damn amazing to have around.”

“That’s true.” Jase slanted his head, and his warm breath danced over my lips. I shivered, and his lips curled up. “Thank you for today. Seriously. I can’t say it enough. I don’t think I’d have been able to do it without you.”

I leaned forward and stretched up a little, brushing my cold nose against his. “You would’ve done it with or without me, but I’m glad I could be there. Really.” Having left my gloves in the Jeep, I placed my bare hand against his cheek, loving the feel of the slight stumble against my palm. “Are you okay?”

His thick lashes swept down. “You know, I didn’t think I’d feel any different, but I do. It’s not huge, but I feel good about it.” He placed his hand over mine as his other curved around the nape of my neck. “I think I owe you a thank-you kiss.”

“You don’t owe me a thank-you, but I’ll take the kiss anyway.”

He smiled as his lips brushed over mine once and then twice, as soft as the snowflakes falling around us. His hand held me in place as he coaxed my mouth open, teasing the seam with his tongue. Heat flowed through me, causing my muscles to tense when he flicked his tongue over the roof of my mouth.

This was the kind of thank-you kiss I could get behind.

And Jase, well, he simply didn’t just kiss. He tasted. He devoured. He promised pleasure with his lips and teased of more to come with his tongue. The boy could offer a class on kissing. He made it an art form when he drew a soft moan from the depths of my core.

“Now, come on, son. I taught you better than to kiss a pretty gal out in the cold.” His father’s voice interrupted, spreading a hot flush across my face as Jase pulled back.

“I’m keeping her warm,” Jase replied, grinning. As I turned to shield my flaming face, because there was nothing like getting caught by your boyfriend’s parents when your knees were weak from kissing, I saw the lightness in Jase’s expression, a gleam to his silver eyes that had never been there before. “Right?”

I blinked slowly and murmured, “Right.”

His father grinned. “Come on. Yer mom has Jack in the kitchen, baking cookies for Mr. Santa.”

Jase winced as he reached down and took my hand and led me up on the porch. Oh. There was the ninth reindeer, standing guard by the door. “Is it a disaster?”

“Boy, it’s about as bad as you being in the kitchen.” He turned, holding the door open for us. “So, yeah, it’s a disaster.”

I laughed at the face Jase made. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you cook anything besides soup from a can yet.”

His father laughed as we stepped into the house. The room smelled of cookies and evergreen. “Honey, that is not something ya’ll want to see.”

“It’s not that bad.” Jase frowned as he stripped off his jacket. “I only melted the spatula in the Rice Krispie treats once.”

“Once?” I draped my jacket off the hook of a coat rack. “I think that’s more than enough.”

“What he ain’t telling you is that he also tried to feed it to his cousins.”

I laughed at the sheepish look that crossed Jase’s face. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

“What?” He shrugged as he dragged his toboggan off. “They didn’t eat it.”

“Only because it was as hard as a brick and could have killed someone,” his father replied, smiling. “My son is a lot of damn good things, but a cook ain’t one of them.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Jase!” shrieked Jack from the kitchen. “Tess!”

We turned just as Jack came barreling through the dining room. “Whoa, buddy! Slow down,” Jase said, stepping forward as Jack almost head butted the dining room table. “Jack, you’re gonna—”

Sensing that Jack was about to make a kamikaze dive attempt, Jase knelt and caught his son the second he launched himself at him. He wrapped his arms around the boy, standing up. Jack clung to him, sinking his tiny hands into Jase’s hair.

“I made cookies for Mr. Santa!” Jack announced, holding fistfuls of hair. “They have chocolate in them and walnuts!”

“Is that so?” Jase turned slightly, holding his son close. My chest tightened at seeing them together. Even though Jack didn’t know the truth, you’d be hard-pressed not to see the love between them. “What about peanut butter cups? You know that’s my favorite kind.”

“We have them, too. I ate a lot of them.” Jack grinned as he put his head on Jase’s shoulder.

“A lot?” Mr. Winstead snorted. “The boy ate about half the batch.”

The grin on Jack’s face spread, and then, seeing me, he let out another squeal. “Lemme down! Lemme down!”

Smiling, Jase lowered the kid’s swinging feet to the ground. The second he landed, he took off, wrapping his arms around my legs.

“Hey,” I said, messing up his already out-of-control hair. “You excited about Santa coming?”

“Yes! Daddy said Mr. Santa would be leaving soon!” He pulled back, grabbing my hand. “Come!”

I glanced over at Jase. He smiled and shrugged, lingering back with his father as Jack tugged me through the dining room.

The kitchen was a mess. Cookie batter covered the island and the countertops. Flour was on the floor and the egg shells filled bowls, but the smell of sugar goodness had me anticipating a heavenly sugar rush.

“Lookie who I found! Lookie!”

Mrs. Winstead turned, wiping her hands along the Christmas trees lining the bottom of her red apron. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here.” She strode over to me in the same long, purposeful strides Jase made. “Look at you,” she clucked, brushing a finger along my jaw, where I knew a bruise was still fading. “How have you been, honey?”

“Good.” I smiled as Jack slipped free and climbed up on a step stool that was pushed again the counter. He sunk his hand into cookie batter. “I’m doing really good.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Her strong arms went around me, and she nearly squeezed the air out of me. “When Jase told me what—” She glanced over to where Jack was rolling dough into balls. She lowered her voice. “I don’t want the little one to overhear, but I’m glad you’re okay and that—” her voice dropped low—“crazy son of a bitch is in jail.”
     



My lips twitched. “Me too.”

Mrs. Winstead shook her head sadly as she watched Jack plop a ball of batter onto a cookie sheet. “Just that poor girl . . .”

“I know.” I bit down on my lower lip. “I keep telling myself that at least there’s justice for Debbie now.”

Jack looked over his shoulder, a frown of curiosity on his cute face. “What’s justice?”

“When bad people have their comeuppance, baby. And that’s the good thing.” Mrs. Winstead smiled at me, and the lines around her eyes deepened. Her voice lowered again. “But that . . . that’s not all.”

Placing her hand on my shoulder, her chest rose with a deep, heavy breath. “I’m glad that you know—that Jase told you.”

I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was nod, and Mrs. Winstead’s smile spread as Jack snuck a piece of dough. “Jase used to do that as a little boy too,” she said, blinking rapidly. “He ate more dough raw than he did cooked.”

“That’s when it’s at its best.” My voice was surprisingly hoarse.

She patted my shoulder. “You’re good for my boy, so damn good. He hasn’t gotten close to anyone since Kari, and you’ve gotten him to open up that heart of his. I know we haven’t had a chance to really get to know each other, but for that, you’ll always be like a daughter to me.”

Oh dear, I was going to cry.

Blinking back tears, I smiled and then I laughed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cry.”

Jack was turned around again. “Why you sad?”

“I’m not sad,” I quickly told him, smiling for his benefit. “I’m happy, really happy.”

He took my word for it and went back to the cookie dough. I wiped at my eyes and pulled myself together. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, and I would never jeopardize him,” I said, nodding at Jack’s back. “Or Jase’s heart.”

“That’s my girl.” Her eyes turned misty, and she cleared her throat. “Now, look at me. I’m about to start shedding tears, and that ain’t gonna do us any good, not when my boy is coming right in here.”

“Hey, Mom.” Jase strode across the cluttered but homey kitchen, leaned in, and kissed his mother’s cheek. As he pulled back and glanced between us, he frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is good,” I said, smacking my hands together. “Jack is pretty busy over there.”

He glanced over at him quickly, before eyeing both of us closely. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, hon. Us gals were just chatting. All good things.” Mrs. Winstead turned, opened the oven door, and peeked in. “These are almost done.”

Appeased, Jase went over to where Jack was and snuck a ball of dough off the cookie sheet.

“Hey!” Jack giggled as Jase popped the whole thing in his mouth.

Kissing his little boy’s cheek, Jase then pivoted around, coming up behind me from around the kitchen table. He slipped his arms around my waist and hooked his hands together. “Can I steal her away now? Want to show her the tree.”

Mrs. Winstead winked at me.“Only if she wants to be stolen by you.”

“Oh, she wants to be stolen by me,” Jase replied, and I smacked his arm. He laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

His mom shook her head as Jase spun around. Moving his arm to my shoulder, he led me back through the dining room. His father was no longer in the hall, and the large living room was empty.

The Christmas tree was huge and real and reminded me of home. Full of different and mismatched bulbs, the lights blinked every few seconds. Stockings hung above the fireplace.

“Look at this.” Stretching forward, he unhooked a red stocking and held it up. “What do you think?”

“Oh!” The stocking had my name on it, written in red glitter. “That’s mine? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Jase laughed, hooking it back up. “Jack made it for you this morning.”

I don’t know what it was about the stocking with my name on it, but it made my heart swell like the Grinch’s had done. I thought it might burst.

“You like it?” he asked, sitting down on the floor with his back against the couch. Tugging on my hand, he waited until I sat. “I’m thinking you love it.”

“I do.” I laughed and then swiped at my face again. “I swear. I’m an emotional baby.” Lowering my hands, I let my gaze wander over his striking face. “I really do love it.”

“I wonder what Santa will put in your stocking.” The way he said it made me think of dirty things. “And under your tree.”

I lifted a shoulder and then put my hands on the hardwood floor. Leaning forward, I kissed his lips. “I already have everything I want for Christmas.”

“Mmm.” His hands settled on my hips and he swept his lips over mine. “I don’t,” he murmured. “Because I’m greedy, I want to wake up with you tomorrow morning. That’s what I want.”

“But—”

“Cam’s already left with Avery and I was taking you up late tomorrow morning. So why should I take you back to the apartment tonight?” He kissed the corner of my lips. “You can stay here with me. My parents wouldn’t care. We can pretend we’re sixteen and having quiet, dirty sex so no one hears us.”

I laughed. “You’re such a perv.”

“I am.” He kissed the other corner. “Stay with me?”

Kissing him, I pulled back just a little. “Like I’d say no.”

Jase wrapped his arms around me, situating me so that I sat between the vee of his legs and my back was to his front. I felt his lips curve against the side of my neck when Jack let out a high-pitched laugh at something Jase’s father had said in the kitchen.

“You know what?” he asked.

I turned and his lips then grazed my cheek. “Chicken butt?”

Jase laughed under his breath. “That was really dorkish.”

Giggling, I snuggled closer. “Yep. But you love me, so . . .”

“That’s true.” He kissed my cheek. “Which brings me to what I wanted to say.” There was a beat of silence, and his chest rose against my back. “In a way, you’ve already given me my best gift ever.”

“This morning?” I twisted so I could see him. “When I woke you with my—”

“Well, that was great, but no.” He grinned. “It’s bigger than that.”
     



I held my breath.

His gaze searched mine. “I never could picture myself married, you know. After what happened with Kari and spending these last couple of years watching my parents raise Jack, I didn’t see a family for myself in the future.”

My heart rate picked up.

“But that’s changed,” he continued, holding my stare, and those silvery eyes became my entire world in that moment. “And it changed because of you. Now I can see myself married, and I can see myself having my own family. With you. And that’s the best gift I could ever have.”

I opened my mouth, but I was beyond words. What he said was like basking in the August sun and had stolen my very ability to speak.

“Hey.” He cupped my cheeks. “Say something.”

I needed to say something, because what he said was so wonderful and so beautiful. My heart was pounding, and my thoughts were a mess of so many things. Elation rose deep inside me. Us. Together. Marriage. A family. One day. I fell in love all over again.

“God, Jase,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “I love you. I love you so much.”

He made a deep sound in the back of his throat and closed the tiny distance between us, fusing our mouths together. We kissed as if we were desperate for each other, pouring how we felt into it. And even when the swell of passion subsided just enough for us to breathe, we stayed close. Forehead to forehead. Lips brushing every so many seconds. Neither of us spoke, because everything that we needed to say had been said.

We stayed like that until the sound of pounding little feet forced us to break apart. Jack plopped down beside us, precariously holding a plate of cookies in one hand and a tablet in the other. He looked up at us with eyes that matched his father’s and tugged at my heart.

“Cookie?” Jack held out a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie.

I took it and broke it in half, holding one half up. Jase’s lips brushed my fingers as he took the whole thing in his mouth, causing Jack to burst into giggles. I ate mine a bit slower.

“These cookies are the best,” I told him.

A proud smile puffed up his round cheeks. “Cuz I made them.”

“That’s right.” Jase rested his chin on my head as he reached out, messing up his son’s hair with a large hand. “You’ve got mad cooking skills.”

“I wanna make Krispie treats next year for Santa.”

Jase groaned. “I don’t have good luck with those things.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I can teach you. I make some really good Rice Krispie treats.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Promise.” I grinned as I glanced up, seeing his parents standing in the doorway. Tears glistened in his mother’s eyes as Mr. Winstead squeezed her shoulder. As my gaze fell back to Jack, who had moved on from the cookies to the tablet and was already engrossed in his game, I realized what his parents were seeing.

Because I was seeing it too.

The future.

The three of us.

So much had changed for us in a little over four months. Back in August, I never thought I’d be here on Christmas Eve, with my lips still tingling from Jase’s sweet kisses. Our future together wasn’t something any of us planned. I’d always thought I’d be a dancer. Jase always believed he’d never let himself fall in love again. None of this was expected, but I wouldn’t give any of this up to dance again.

My dream had been shattered, but then re-created, fashioned into something with more meaning and becoming more precious.

Holding the game high, Jack whooped as he smiled up at Jase. One day, he would know the truth about his father and his mother and I knew deep in my soul, I’d be standing next to Jase when that day came, there for the both of them.

I slid my hands down Jase’s arms, coming to where his hands were nestled just below my belly button. I spread my fingers over his, and he flipped his up, threading our hands together.

“Do you want to play the next round?” Jack asked with hope in his beautiful gray eyes as he looked up at me.

“I’d love to.”

Appeased, Jack returned his attention to the game, and Jase pressed a kiss to my temple, and then, against my skin, he mouthed the words I’d never grow tired of or used to hearing.

He whispered I love you.


Acknowledgments





First and foremost a big thank you to Kevan Lyon and the team at Marsal Lyon Literary and Taryn Fagerness Agency. Tessa Woodward—I’m so glad you love these characters as much as I do and your editorial hand is priceless. Thank you to Jessie, Abigail, Jen, Molly, and Pam—you’re the peeps beyond the scenes, getting the word out and making my job as an author a hell of a lot easier.

Jen Fisher—thank you for letting me turn you and your cupcakes into a fictional character. You’re the bomb and so are your cupcakes. Be with Me would’ve never happened without Stacey Morgan. Not only is she a great friend and assistant, she’s the poor soul who has to read the first drafts of these books. Another big shout-out to the ladies (in and out of writing) who rock: Laura Kaye, Sophie Jordan, Molly McAdams, Cora Carmack, and Lisa Desrochers.

Last and most important, a huge thank-you to all the readers and reviewers out there. Books wouldn’t be possible without you guys. You’re the most integral part in all of this and THANK YOU from the bottom of my little heart.