End of Day (Jack & Jill 1)

“It’s just a ride, and I already said I would.” Cage grabbed his keys and waved to his dad.

“Wait—” AJ didn’t get a chance to finish as work picked up on the line and Cage shut the front door. While he explained his situation, he looked out the front window. Jillian slipped on her sunglasses, walking toward Cage’s old black pickup. It was the first time AJ had seen her in jeans. Jeans that hugged her curves a little too much and black leather boots.

Cage held up one finger and jogged back to the house as AJ ended his call. “Forgot my phone.” He took the stairs two at a time.

AJ endured the excruciating pain of the sun to go have a few words with Jillian who was waiting in the truck.

“Sarge,” she said, looking not the least bit surprised to see him as he opened the door. “Playing hooky today?” She eyed him in his casual attire.

“I told you to stay away from Cage.”

“Don’t sweat it, the only thing I’ll be mounting today is my Sportster SuperLow.” Jillian applied lipgloss in the visor mirror. “And even that ride will be cut short since I’m watching Lilith this afternoon.”

“He’s…” AJ grimaced while bowing his head and clenching one hand on each side “…just … a boy.” The Advil wasn’t touching the pain and his coffee threatened to come up as a wave of nausea hit him.

Jillian flipped up the visor. “He’s a young man and—” She looked over at AJ. “Are you okay?”

AJ hissed in a breath as he clenched his jaw. Jillian unbuckled and turned toward him, resting her hands over his. “AJ?”

He held his breath, fighting to keep the nausea at bay, not wanting to vomit or pass out. Jillian slowly wedged her hands under his and with a pressure that wasn’t normal for a woman’s hands, she massaged his head, thumbs digging into his temples with small circles. He left his hands resting over hers as he moaned like a wounded animal.

“Migraine?”

“Yes,” he seethed against the pain.

She continued to massage his head and as much as he wanted to fight it, he let his body begin to relax into hers. The pain was still murderous, but the nausea started to subside.

“Dad?”

AJ jerked away from Jillian and the sudden movement shot daggers through his brain. “Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled toward the house.

“Here’s some money and a list of things I need from Home Depot for Dodge and Lilith’s bathroom. I’ve got your dad.” She caught up to AJ and wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him into the house.

“What about your motorcycle?” Cage called.

“Another day.” Jillian helped AJ down the hall.

“Go … I don’t want your help.” Pain bled from his voice, intensified by the humiliation he felt having Jillian help him. How could a fucking headache turn into such a degrading moment?

“Shut up.” Jillian pushed him past his bed into the master bathroom, leaving the lights off. The glass block window allowed enough light to see.

AJ had a large tiled walk-in shower and she turned it on to hot.

“Go,” it came out as a desperate plea.

“No.” Jillian wrestled his shirt off.

The unbearable pulsing in his head rendered him incapable of fighting her any longer. She pulled down his pants and helped him step out of them. Then, leaving his briefs on, she nudged him toward the shower.

“Sit.”

He stepped inside and slid down the wall, knees bent, head cradled in his hands as the nearly scalding water rained down on his head. AJ wasn’t sure if it was the pain of the hot water distracting him from his head, but within seconds he could breathe again. The throbbing eased to just bearable.

Jillian toed off her boots and removed her clothes, leaving on her bra and panties. No one had ever taken care of AJ like that before. His voice caught in his throat, trapped by confusion. He wanted her to leave, but needed her to stay. As if defying a law of nature, his body shivered when she kneeled before him, squeezing between his knees and taking his head in her strong, capable hands. He rested his forehead on her chest as she pressed her fingers into his scalp, magically landing on every pressure point.

“Feel good?” she whispered so close he felt her lips brush his ear.

“Yes,” he breathed out on a slow sigh.

Jillian worked one area, then made a slight shift finding more points that eased the pain. Her fingers kneaded their way down the back of his head, putting firm pressure with small upward strokes at his nape. He moaned and she continued to his shoulders, digging into tight knots of tension.

“God …” he breathed.

She rested her cheek on his head, and he swallowed a large gulp of ego, confusion, and a shitload of garbage from his fucked-up past. They stayed resting on each other until the water faded to warm.