Page 96 of Just for Tonight

The realization makes me sad for those boys, but it also explains a lot. Their world changed completely without their mom around. How does anyone grow up whole in such an emotional wasteland?

They don’t. They can’t.

One of the things I love most about my grandfather is his gift for seeing the good in people. (Patrick Cavendish was a notable exception.) He plays Santa Claus in the annual Christmas parade for more reasons than his white beard and round belly. And as I stand there, I remember him chiding me, gently as he does, for my impatience with Sloane when he was new to our operation.

“Not everyone has your experience,” my grandfather said. “And no one can know what they haven’t been taught or shown. Sloane has excellent credentials. He does very well, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t benefit from a little mentorship once in a while. Teach him, Mackenzie, teach him what he doesn’t already know.”

I took that advice and Sloane has grown in his abilities by leaps and bounds. I know I can be impatient with people and a demanding boss, but Opa is teaching me to do better. He’s mentoring me, which is a wonderful gift.

And as I look at those marks on the wall, noting how they abruptly stop, I know that I don’t want to fix Jake Cavendish. I don’t want to save him. But I would like to help him. I would like to show him what it’s like to be surrounded by love, to be nurtured and supported and cherished. I have a feeling it might make all the difference in the world.

I have no illusions that it will mean we end up together. I doubt we will. But just as he can’t bear the prospect of me being alive in the world and thinking ill of him, I can’t bear the possibility that I missed a chance to offer a helping hand to a friend.

It’s late now, well after midnight, and I can hear that he’s sleeping less deeply. I go back into the bedroom and sit on the side of the bed. He stirs, his hand closing over mine.

“Hey, Mr. Bear,” I say. “Time to end your hibernation. I’ve got to go home.”

Jake rolls to his side and looks up at me, mischievous and tousled. “You didn’t leave this time.”

“I would have had to steal your car.”

He smiles. “I think we should celebrate the fact that you’re still here.”

“How?”

His smile turns wicked. “Don’t you have a favourite thing to do when you first wake up?”

I pretend I don’t understand. “Make coffee?”

“Before that,” he growls, and reaches for me. I slide down into his arms, and can’t help but tease him.

“You seem to have some anticipation.”

“Absolutely,” he says and pulls me closer. “And you should, too.”

This time, I fall asleep. I wake up curled against Jake’s warmth. His arm is around me and my head is on his shoulder. Our legs are entangled and we’re still naked. I can feel that he’s awake, even though he’s motionless. The lights are out and the house is full of shadows.

I turn a little but he keeps staring at the ceiling. He strokes my shoulder, a sign he knows I’m awake, but he doesn’t turn to me.

I brace myself on one elbow to look down at him. “Pondering the mysteries of the universe?” I ask, knowing that isn’t it.

He smiles at me, reaching one fingertip to tuck my hair behind my ear. I kiss his palm and he pulls me closer to kiss my temple. “Just distracted.” He looks into my eyes. “Okay?”

“Amazing again.” I slide down and kiss his mouth, liking that I can feel his body tighten beneath me. He spears his fingers into my hair and we kiss hungrily, as if we haven’t spent the last hour already doing that. I’m starting to think it’s not even possible to get enough of this man. I slide my hand down his chest, but he captures it in his and holds it against his chest.

Not another round then. I study him in the darkness and wonder why. I have a feeling it’s not me. We are in his old bedroom in the house where he grew up.

“Memories?” I ask.

“No.” He gets up then, heading for the bathroom.

I follow, knowing that he’s avoiding me and evading my question. That means whatever is distracting him is important.

I’m becoming fluent in the body language of Jake.

He washes up, pretending he’s unaware of me standing in the doorway. He’s not. There’s a huge mirror over the vanity and he can’t miss me.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you or is it a secret?” I halfway think he’s going to confess a woman’s name, but he meets my gaze in the mirror and frowns a little.