Middle of Knight (Jack & Jill 2)

AJ nodded. The time came for him to rob all of that happiness from Cage, tearing his world apart before saying goodbye, forever.

Everyone met up for dinner. The bar and grill bulged to capacity with rowdy victory partying. AJ didn’t rush anything. He gave his family time to share a meal, laugh, and celebrate. After the last bite, final beer, and check paid, his parents went home with Brooke’s husband, their girls, and Jillian. AJ and Brooke drove back to Cage’s place, and they ended his world as he knew it. Their two-hundred pound grown son sobbed like a little boy in his daddy’s arms. A Band-Aid, kiss, and sucker couldn’t fix it. Nothing could fix the ugliest part of life that knocked on AJ’s door.

Cage promised to come visit the first weekend he had off. He also promised AJ that he wasn’t dying. His son held the same optimism Char and Brooke clung to. That he could have. AJ wouldn’t take that from any of them. After all, what’s left when all hope is gone?

*

Jillian. That’s who remained when all hope faded into darkness. After the drive home with Brooke, he took a long shower. He closed his eyes and let his tears mix with the water and soap that he massaged through his hair. He cried for the boy who loved him so unconditionally, the father to the grandchildren he would never meet, the man who would do things so much bigger, so much better than AJ ever could.

“I’m so … very … sorry.”

He knew she’d come. She was his real. The keeper of his past. The defender of his honor. The breath he needed to get to the next one.

“Why?” His voice broke as he turned and fell to his knees at her feet.

She ran her hands through his hair as he hugged her waist. “I’ve had too many opportunities to contemplate death. I think it’s different for everyone, but for me … when my time comes, I won’t ask any questions. I’ll simply say thank you.” Her words fell upon him, soft and steady.

He looked up at her and after a long moment, he nodded. Then he dried them off and led her to his bedroom.

“Jill—”

She pressed her finger to his lips as he sat on the bed before her. “Show me.”

He nodded again and then he showed her. When he filled her, he rushed nothing. There was no hurry. All they had was now. Their hands caressed for a final lasting memory. Their lips said goodbye over and over. Their tears released the anger … the unfairness of it all. Then with a final thrust, he spilled into her with an angry grunt. The kind that said fuck you world. Fuck you cancer. Fuck you PTSD.

He fell asleep in her arms and woke beside a note.

Thank you. ~J

“Good bye, Jillian Knight,” he whispered, folding the note.

Chapter Twelve

It rained for almost forty-eight hours straight, a few weeks too late for the brown lawns and cracked fields to make a comeback with fall just over the horizon. Even the residents of Peaceful Woods agreed to stop watering the lawns and simply succumb to the inevitable.

Ryn received a message from AJ that he no longer needed her services. He thanked her for all the years she worked for him and promised to write her a glowing recommendation to keep on file for future clients. She didn’t call him back. The message was brief, melancholy, and a little haunting. The For Sale sign in his yard explained the termination of services, but it took her by surprise, given his relationship with Jillian.

After a mad dash in the rain to the Knight’s front door, she paused to take a few deep breaths. She hadn’t seen or talked to Jackson since he took her home Friday night. She invited him in, but he insisted it wasn’t a good idea until she took care of the needed “preparations.” Her face flushed every possible shade of red, and that’s when he kissed her—the complete opposite of a chaste kiss. It held so much promise, leaving no confusion as to his intentions … his plans for her.

It took a full twenty-four hours to wipe the smile off her face. In a moment of insanity, she trimmed her girly parts then shaved them bare for the first time ever. It certainly made her look younger—like ten—at least in the pubic region. Sadly, she failed to consider the side effects. The worst being red bumps and itching. Dogs with fleas didn’t scratch as much as she had been scratching down below. Lotion and body oil failed to provide relief. As long as she didn’t touch the area or rub against anything she was fine.

“Ryn.” Jackson dragged her name into two long syllables, like a jungle cat purring it.