finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) (7 page)

Without haste I put my sort of baggy clothes on: a combination of grey leggings and a long black blouse with patent leather grey riding boots. Stryder is still fast asleep, so I take the opportunity to finish getting ready. My phone rings and I smile when I see it’s Faith.

“Hey, you!” Faith chirps happily, making me grin from the inside out.

“Hi!”

“I saw the news last night . . . That Jackson Reese is one lucky son of a bitch. I mean, who gets sucked into an avalanche and lives to tell the tale? That’s amazing. Where are you?” Faith asks, and I find it difficult to hear her because of the loud background noise.

“I’m in B.C. with Stryder. We got on the first flight out yesterday when we found out he might be alive.”

“That’s awesome. Oh my God, Catalina! We need to talk about that hunky man of yours. Seriously, we haven’t had quality time since you bumped into him at Velvet Box. What is going on there?”

I giggle at her breathy, almost whispered question. “Faith, I told you I needed time to figure my shit out, you know? I guess shit figured itself on its own. The moment I met Stryder I knew there was something there, but I don’t want to share the details over the phone. As soon as I get back, we’ll talk over dinner and drinks. All you need to know is that I’m very happy. This is the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.”

Faith lets out a howl, and the unmistakable sound of her excited clapping comes through the line. “Catalina and Stryder sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” she sings. “I’m so happy for you, Cat! I’ve only been waiting for this moment, like, forever?” she pipes, in that valley-girl voice she uses to make fun of me.

I roll my eyes, yet chuckle in the same breath. “I know, I know. Listen, I’m about to leave the lodge for the hospital. As soon as I’m back in town, I’ll call you and we’ll make plans to meet up.”

“Yes! Absolutely! Oh . . . before you go, I wanted to ask you how you’re feeling after your little episode. Are you taking the meds?” Faith inquires her voice stern all of a sudden.

“You mean the shit anti-depressants I was prescribed? Hell no. I threw those out. I’m feeling fine,” I explain. “I don’t need them. Jax is alive and well, and watching the coverage of the avalanche was life-altering. I hate when doctors see someone sad and think the solution is to write a prescription when it’s not. I’m feeling great. Thanks for asking.”

“Hey, don’t get defensive. It’s the doctor in me asking. You may not want to realize it, but dealing with PTSD the way you do is admirable. I’m just watching out for you, that’s all,” Faith counters reassuringly. “Okay, my coffee is ready. I have to go. Love you!”

“I love you too!” I hum and end the call. I rest the phone against the counter and brush my hair, then style it in a bun. As I’m about to apply my lipstick, a sleepy and very tousle-haired Stryder walks in. Placing a kiss on my cheek and smiling softly, he walks over to the toilet, and I quietly slip out to let him get ready for the day.

I dangle a paper sack with a toasty-hot bacon egg and cheese sandwich over Jackson’s head. He looks so peaceful asleep, and I’m so happy we will be the first people he’ll see as soon as he wakes up. After a few complaining grunts and groans, he finally opens his eyes.

“Good morning, Jackson.” I whisper, placing a kiss on his scruffy cheek.

Jackson smiles lazily, those remarkably crisp blue eyes looking tenderly into mine. The truth is, they remind me so much of Blake’s in a sweet, nostalgic kind of way. Jackson’s nose twitches as he sniffs the air in the room.

“Good morning, Cat,” Jackson mumbles, looking eagerly at the paper sack in my hands. “Please tell me there’s bacon in there ‘cause damn, I smell it,” he says.

I nod repeatedly as I retrieve the rollaway tray table and bring it to his bed. Jackson eagerly sits up and rubs his hands together with a smile on his face. Removing the breakfast sandwich from the parchment paper, I place it in his hand. Jackson uses his free hand to hold my chin, and regards me sweetly.

“I think Jupiter is one lucky son of a bitch. He gets to see that sweet, adorable face of yours every day. You’re a good girl, Pardo.”

My mind struggles with the idea of responding with banter, but for some reason, I simply accept the compliment. Oddly enough, my cheeks feel hot and it makes me smirk that Jackson Reese is genuinely trying to be sweet.

“Well, look at you and your virginal blush, Catalina.” Jackson quips, bringing to surface the banter we are accustomed to. I giggle at his assessment and pat his shoulder.

“Shut the hell up. Eat your sandwich before I take it away, smartass.” I reply, laughing, and place my palms over my cheeks.

“Touché, Catalina. Touché.”

As Jackson enjoys his breakfast, I sit on the chair beside his bed and watch the news. Minutes later, Stryder walks into the room with a paper bag in his hands, and Jackson eyes it suspiciously.

“You look like a hobo, Jax.” Stryder smirks as he opens the bag and rests its contents on the tray table. “I got you shaving cream and a nice sharp razor.”

“Well good morning to you, Sunshine,” Jackson says rather sarcastically. “Um, I don’t know if you noticed, asshole, but I can’t stand, let alone shave.”

Without saying a word to either of us, Stryder walks into the bathroom and fills a bowl with warm water, dunking a washcloth into it. He brings the bowl over and wrings the excess water from the washcloth, then places it over Jackson’s face. That is when I realize what he’s about to do.

Jackson sighs contentedly as a small cloud of steam lifts from the washcloth. Stryder looks at me and winks. I’m putty on that chair as I watch an act of supreme tenderness between the guys I absolutely adore. I blow a loving kiss to Stryder and he catches it, placing it over his heart.

Removing the warm washcloth from Jackson’s face, Stryder sprays shaving foam into his hands and rubs them together to warm the lather. Then he dabs the cream all over Jax’s cheeks, upper lip, and chin. Once done, Stryder rinses his hands and, picking up the razor, he slowly shaves Jackson’s face.

“I should get injured more often. I could totally get used to this.” Jackson smirks, crossing his hands behind his head.

“Blow me, Jackson. Now shut up before I cut you. This is a new blade,” Stryder jokes, biting his lip and concentrating on the task at hand.

I’m watching in rapt attention, looking at Stryder’s deft fingers remove Jackson’s scruffy beard. I’ve never seen Jackson without it, and now I’m dying to see what he looks like clean-shaven. It takes about fifteen minutes and a few changes of water before Stryder finishes. Tilting Jackson’s chin, Stryder inspects it with a smile. “Better?”

Jackson touches his face and replies happily, “Yes, no more itchy beard. Thanks, bro.”

Stryder pats him on the shoulder affectionately. “No problem, man.” Stryder says, but as I look closely I can tell there is softness in his stare like that of an older brother and a younger sibling. I swear my heart has turned into mush at the sight of them.

Standing, I walk towards them and instinctively touch Jackson’s bare face with my palms. He looks so different young and very,
very
attractive. One of his pin-straight strands of blonde hair falls on his forehead and hovers over his eyebrow. Smiling, I whisper into Jackson’s ear, “You are so handsome.”

Stryder clears his throat and frowns. Jackson winks and turns his face to look at me, and kisses the tip of my nose. “I know, but let’s continue our affair away from the old man here.” Looking at Stryder he raises his palms and says, “Shave it and they will
come.
”

The three of us break into peals of laughter. A pretty young nurse comes into the room to replace Jax’s IV bag and notices his freshly shaven face. “Very nice, Mr. Reese.”

I raise my thumb at Jackson in approval of the nurse’s comment, but Jax doesn’t react.
Hmm. She must not be his cup of tea.
Nevertheless he replies, “Thanks, doll.” The nurse smiles and leaves the room with a nice shade of pink all over her face.

Jackson yawns and smiles drowsily. “Sleepy medicine,” he mumbles, and minutes later he’s fast asleep.

“He’ll be out for a while. Why don’t we head out to the stores and get some clothes. I think we’ll be here for a few days. Sound good?” Stryder asks with a small smile.

Nodding, I stand and walk over to Jax, place a kiss on his cheek and wish him sweet dreams. As we walk out of his room, I pause at the doorway and take a last glance at Jackson’s sleeping form. I can’t help but think he has a long recovery ahead of him, and while he’s been in good spirits, he has yet to talk about losing Chris and Rem. I’ve coped with survivor’s guilt for the past four years, and I know more than anyone if he needs to talk to someone about it.

Stryder places a kiss on my hair, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just worried about him.”

Stryder takes hold of my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I know.”

After spending the afternoon at the small shops in downtown Golden, we return to the hotel exhausted with several bags with clothes and toiletries. While at the drug store, I distracted Stryder for a moment to pick up lady products before he could see what I was buying. I’ve been feeling yucky and it’s only a matter of days before that dreaded cycle shows up. With my purchases in hand, he surprises me with a bag of chocolate and a knowing smile.

Lying on the sofa of our suite, I rest my head on his shoulder and it isn’t long before we’re both naked and in bed loving each other. Sated and completely exhausted I fall asleep curled up to his side.

I am the first to wake up from our nap, and sure enough the dreaded cycle is here. Feeling less than enthused, I begrudgingly shower then dress in the loosest, most comfortable clothes I have. As I lay on the sofa I curl into myself, trying to mitigate the pain brought on by the evil troll kicking the shit out of my uterus, and after tossing and turning I abandon the sofa and return to bed irritated.

Stryder’s arm reaches out for my waist and the urge to swat it away is great, but I know it’s only the hormones talking and not how I really feel. I hate getting my period because it is god-awful. After the miscarriage my cycle worsened and after losing one of my ovaries post accident, my body rebels with out-of-this-world pain.

Raising his head from the pillow, Stryder places his head against my belly and kisses it. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks adoringly.

I’m mortified at the thought of sharing with him such personal information. Surely he’s acquainted with periods given he’s a son and brother, not to mention he lived with his now-ex-fiancée . . . He grew up dancing around countless women, so I’m confident he has an understanding of what’s going on, but for some reason I feel shy and highly embarrassed to talk about it.

“Is there anything I can get you? Heating pad, medicine? Chocolate?” he asks, and smiles wickedly at the last option. His thoughtfulness makes me want to kiss him long and hard; nevertheless my hot cheeks reflect my embarrassment.

“You realize I was expecting this to happen, Cat. A part of me is relieved given our first encounters, and we’ve been together for a month now. Don’t feel embarrassed about it, baby,” he whispers, his lips kissing my belly again. As they do, my fingers run through his obsidian hair in wonder and appreciation.

Exhaling a sharp breath, I speak. “Can I see you in a week? I’m a moody and unstable bitch when it’s that time of the month. I hate myself and the world even more.”

Stryder chuckles loudly and sits up to hug me. “I’ll just need to over-emphasize how beautiful you are and stock up on chocolate just in case you take that inner bitch out for a stroll.”

I smack his shoulder playfully and kiss him, happy at how normal this awkward topic gets carried out between us. He leaves the bed gorgeously naked and walks gracefully into the closet to retrieve an electric blanket. My eyes devour him hungrily, and it pisses me off that I can’t do anything about it for the next few days. It’s not until you can’t have something that it becomes the one thing you crave the most. The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off.
Fuck.

“Tsk, tsk, Catalina,” Stryder scolds with a smirk on his face. He moves his hands to cover himself and winks. “I
suppose
I should put some clothes on.”