Forever This Time (31 page)

“Until I came back.”

Ethan nodded slowly and looked out toward the lake. The haunting call of a loon made Josie jump, losing her grip on the rock she'd been doodling with. Ethan looked at her scratches in the rock, then chuckled.

“What's funny?”

“You are.”

“Why?”

He looked back out at the lake. “Did you even realize what you were drawing there?”

Josie's eyes widened as she shifted her legs to the side and saw the elaborate heart she'd scratched into the rock, along with the initials
JK
+
EM
. How in the world had she done that without even noticing she was doing so?

Ethan laughed. “Force of habit? I drag you out to one of our favorite make-out spots and suddenly you're doodling hearts?”

Josie smiled. “I only drew about seven million of these hearts in this rock back then.”

“We'll have to find our tree sometime when it's light out. Wonder if our initials are still there?”

“We really were a cliché, weren't we? Small-town high school sweethearts and all.”

“I don't know, Jos. It didn't feel clichéd at the time.”

“Clichés never do when you're the one doing them.”

“That's just psychobabble.”

“I do not traffic in psychobabble.” She popped a pebble at his knee, but he grabbed her wrist before she could launch another one.

He held it for an interminable minute, searching her eyes in silence. Finally, he spoke. “What are you feeling right now, Josie?”

God, if she only knew. Scared, hot, bothered, terrified. Sitting here on this rock, in the spot where they'd spent half of two summers exploring each other's bodies by moonlight, it was impossible to erase those memories and pretend the sound of the waterfall and call of the loons didn't bring her right back.

It was impossible to pretend she didn't want to pull Ethan back right now and feel his arms gather her tight, feel his lips on hers, feel his hands roam to places he hadn't touched for so damn long. It was, in fact, all she could do to stop herself from abandoning all reason and letting it happen.

But suddenly his lips were on hers, and he braced himself at her side as he buried a hand in her hair to pull her closer. Instead of resisting, all she could do was moan as she felt her every nerve ending spring to life.

Forget scared, forget terrified. As she opened her mouth under his and heard his answering groan, all she felt was pure, unadulterated lust.

 

Chapter 31

As Josie's lips parted, Ethan pulled her body closer to his. God, he'd waited so long to feel her like this again. She'd never believe he hadn't had ulterior motives bringing her out here, but damn. He'd do everything in his power to make sure she wouldn't regret it in the end.

The skin of her neck was silky soft under his hand, and as he lowered his lips, he could feel her pulse flipping like a baby bird's. He put his left arm around her and felt her relax as she sank backward.

Ah hell. If she did that little moaning sound one more time, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

Pebbles bit into his forearm as he supported Josie's back, but he barely registered the discomfort. Just as he felt her bones turn to mush, though, she pushed back upward.

“Ooh. Ow.” She reached back to find whatever had jabbed her. She closed her hand around a big pebble and tossed it into the waterfall. “I don't think I remember this rock being so … rocky.”

“We used to bring a sleeping bag.” He kept his hand tangled in her curls, his lips on her neck, praying for the spell not to be broken.

“We used to get eaten alive by the mosquitoes.”

“There you go again, ruining a perfectly good memory.”

Stop talking, Josie. Stop thinking.

“Sorry. Do you remember, though—”

“Shut up, Jos. You're babbling. You're nervous. I get it. But it's me.” He slid his hands up her jawline and into her hair, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It's me.” He lowered his lips again, tentatively, then more insistently as she didn't pull back.

Oh holy heaven. It was all the same as he remembered, only better. Her lips tasted of strawberry and mint, and her hair was still as soft as that ridiculous sweater she'd knit him for Christmas when they were seventeen. It was a little more salon-perfect than he preferred, but at least she'd been letting it go curly again.

She pulled back and braced her hands on his chest.

Ah hell.

He sighed and pulled his hands away from her body, but to his surprise, she grabbed them tightly. “I'm going to regret this. I
know
I'm going to regret this. I'm going to hate you tomorrow for driving me out here. Hate you for bringing me Morris's French fries. Hate you for letting me win at midnight bowling.”

She let go of one of his hands and brought hers to his face. “Dammit, Ethan. I can't do this. I can't sit here on this damn rock—which is really hard, by the way—listening to the waterfall, getting spooked by the loons, smelling your after-shave …
feeling
your hands on me. I can't.”

“Why the hell
not
?” Even he could hear the raw pain in his voice.

“Because, moron, if you touch me one more time, I'm sixteen again, losing myself to you on the riverbank.”

“And what is wrong with that?”

“We're not sixteen anymore. We're not. We can't pretend we are.”

“Nobody's pretending, Jos.” His hand encircled her wrist and he brought her palm to his lips, planting small kisses as he talked. “Everything I've said, everything I've done, I've meant. I was sixteen when I fell in love with you, I grant you that. And I remember every minute of it. I'm not trying to recapture being sixteen. I'm way more aware of reality than I really want to be. But Jesus, Josie, how can you not feel this? How can you not—want this?”

Her breath trembled as she spoke. “I do.”

He paused. “What did you say?”

“I do. I do want this. God, Ethan, I've been trying so hard not to want this. But I do.” She slid both hands around his head and pulled him toward her lips, sliding onto his lap at the same time.

“Touch me, Ethan. Please just touch me. Make me forget about everything but you.”

*   *   *

Josie winced as she dabbed Neosporin on her knee, then covered it with a new Band-Aid. She turned to the desk and slugged down another gulp of Pepsi before turning to the other knee. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow.” It was eight o'clock the next morning and Ethan had dropped her off at her parents' house a mere four hours ago. He'd said he had stuff to do this morning, so she was alone in the office, having ridden her bike once again.

She pulled her cotton skirt back down over her knees and sat back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. She might have banged-up knees and razor burn in places a proper lady wouldn't talk about, but it was a delicious sort of pain. She closed her eyes and tried to wipe the silly grin off her face as she relived last night.

God, it had been good. So
damn
good. Everything she remembered, only better. Back when they'd been teenagers, their intimate moments had been stolen, enhanced by the danger of being discovered. Last night had held that same sort of secret-lover energy, only this time they were older and wiser enough to know better.

But that waterfall. That rock. Those tumbling, chaotic, beautiful memories crowding through her mind as Ethan had touched her, kissed her, murmured in her ear. There was no way she'd have been able to resist him. And she hadn't wanted to. She'd wanted every kiss, every touch, every lingering, blazing look from his smoky eyes.

She touched her lips, still tender, and she knew her cheeks were still flushed. It was a good thing she'd escaped the house before Mom woke up, or she'd have been totally busted. It was also a good thing Ethan wasn't here yet. He'd dropped her off with a kiss that could've led to much, much more … again. As his headlights swept across the lawn as he backed out of the driveway, she'd almost run back to the car. But she'd closed the door softly and crept to her bedroom, knowing that sleep was futile.

And it had been. She'd lain there for three hours, alternately glowing and scared. They'd been magic together, just like they'd always been. Even at twenty-eight years old, on a rock by a waterfall at the end of a dirt road … it had all been as perfect as it was ten years ago. Ethan was still the same generous, teasing, ungodly hot man he'd been then, but the years had been oh, so kind to his body.

And, by extension, to hers.

But what would today bring? In the harsh light of day, what conclusions would each of them come to about what had happened? About what was going to happen now?

The radio on the counter squawked, startling Josie.
Ethan? Are you there?

Josie picked it up and pressed the button. “Ethan's out. This is Josie. What's up?”

“Oh. Hi, Josie. This is Nick. Listen, we have an early visitor. I think you might want to come over to the duck pond and check him out.”

“The human kind of visitor? Or the bear kind?”

“Old guy. Says he knows Ethan. Looks like he came through one of the fences.”

“You've never seen him before?”

“Nope. He says his dad dropped him off for the day. But seriously, he's old. Too old to still have a dad alive.”

“I'll be right there.” Josie clipped the radio to her belt and headed down the stairs and out the front door of the office, walking quickly toward the duck pond. Great. There was a poor, senile old man wandering the park. As she walked, she tried to figure out who she'd call to help figure out who he was and where he belonged.

Echo Lake still had only one part-time police officer, and his hours were apparently saved for nights and weekends. The man knew Ethan, though, so maybe she'd recognize him from the past? Or maybe Ethan would, when he got here?

When she rounded the corner by the stone bridge, she saw Nick leaning casually against the stone side, looking down the bank. She signaled to him, and he pointed toward the spot where she'd found Kelsey.

Josie could only see a glimpse of gray hair when she peered over the bridge. Dammit. She was going to have to go under there again. “Keep your radio on, okay? Hopefully he's just pleasantly confused, not dangerous.”

She tiptoed back down the bridge, then hopped over the low fence and headed slowly down the bank. Funny how much easier it was in her own clothes. The man had his back to her, but she could hear him muttering about goulash or something. Goulash?

She crept closer, and when she was still a safe enough distance away to run back up the hill, she spoke. “Sir?” No response, but his body stilled. “Mister? Are you all right?” She took one step closer, putting a hand out toward him in case he turned around. “Sir? I'm Josie. Are you okay? Can I help you with anything?”

The man stopped muttering, and his head tilted like he'd registered her voice but wasn't sure where it was coming from.

“Boston princess?” he asked, then turned quickly toward her.

What?

“Sir, what's your na—” Josie stopped as he raised his eyes to hers.

She knew those eyes. Oh God. She knew those eyes.

 

Chapter 32

“How could you not
tell
me?” Josie paced the office again as Ethan sighed.

“No offense, Jos, but when exactly might it have come up?”

“Ethan! He's—omigod—it's Pops! How could you not tell me he was sick?”

“Are you serious right now? Really? You're serious?” Josie saw color rise in Ethan's cheeks.

“Why would I not be serious?”

Ethan stood up, and Josie instinctively backed up when she saw the anger in his eyes. “You're acting like I held out on you … like you've got some right to be pissed that I haven't caught you up on ten years of Echo Lake history.”

“But it's—Pops.” Her voice was pained. Had she even
asked
about him since she'd been here? Of course she had.

Hadn't she?

“It's early-onset dementia. That's the clinical term you'd give it, right? His phrase for it is a lot less polite. He was diagnosed three years ago, and we're figuring it out as we go.”

“He's so young, though.” Josie shivered. “I can't believe it.”

“He took some pretty serious blows to the head during his service overseas. That might have kicked it off. We don't know. Nobody ever knows with these things.”

“Do you—have help with him? Are you doing this all alone?”

“I've got a part-time nurse who keeps an eye on him most days. Not this morning, obviously.” He ran his hand through his hair. “On the positive side, he seems to have forgotten that he hates me for not becoming a Marine like him, so that's good, right?”

“Oh God. What?”

Ethan shrugged. “Seriously, the more his mind goes, the—the more he's let go of all that energy he spent resenting Mom for dying, me for screwing up my knee, David for liking his drums better than his gun … I don't know, Jos. It's been a trip, okay? I don't know how to explain it. And I don't have time right now.”

“I just—wow. I can't believe I didn't know.” Her stomach actually hurt as she said the words.

“Josie, you left. You left without a backward glance, and never gave one indication that you gave a damn about anything here. So really? You making like the victim of nondisclosure here? It doesn't fly.”

“Ethan—”

Oh God, he was angry, and oh, she deserved it. Like she'd uncorked a mad genie, he continued.

“Ten years ago, you made a
huge
decision that affected both of us, only you forgot to bring me into it. So you know what? You can get off your high horse, sit your perfect little butt down, and run the damn park until I get back. Pops isn't your problem.”