Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 22

Poppy

“If you were a murderer, do you think you’d break into a woodshop before you broke into the nearest house?”

Parker sighed so loudly, with such annoyance, that I rolled my eyes, even as I poked my head out from behind a tree to stare at the lights coming from the shop behind the house. The supposed to be empty and locked and dark woodshop.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. There was loud thumping in the background like he was at a club.

“There’s someone back here in the shop,” I hissed.

“What?” he yelled. “I can’t hear you.”

Cupping my hand over my mouth, I spoke louder, eyes locked on the way the flashlight bounced around inside the window. “Someone is in the shop. I saw a light coming from the windows right before I was going to go to bed, and maybe it’s just Wade or something, but then why wouldn’t he tell me he’s stopping by? He always tells me when he’s stopping by, and no one comes out here at night.”

The noises faded in the background, and I heard the closing of a door. “Pops, if you’re worried about a break-in, call Cameron or Ian and make them come check it out.”

“Cameron and Ivy are out on a date in Redmond. Mom, Ian, and Harlow are at Sage’s flag football game.”

“Then call your boyfriend. Or better yet, call the cops.”

I winced. Right. Law enforcement hadn’t crossed my mind. Downfall of a big family, I guess. “Dean is … unavailable for those types of calls.”

“Why? Off delivering horse babies or something?”

“Foals,” I corrected. “They’re not called horse babies. And I have no idea if he is or isn’t.”

“Oh.” Parker cleared his throat. “And has Dr. No Sex been sidelined due to a certain someone’s reappearance?”

“Dean was sidelined because I freaking knew better than to keep dating someone when my life was a giant mess of crazy.” I stared at the moving light with narrowed eyes. “Do we have to recap this now? What if I’m about to get murdered?”

“You realize I live in Portland, right? I’m not going to be much help,” he drawled. My eyes narrowed because the drawl sounded a little slurred. Parker never drank.

I was about to ask, but the flashlight moved again, swinging past one of the windows, and I ducked back behind the tree. Why was it so dark outside? Why had I decided to read one of Harlow’s thrillers instead of watching a nice, happy, fluffy romance like a normal hormonal pregnant woman who wasn’t getting any sex?

Let’s not dive into the psychology behind that decision—where a creepy fricken stalker story felt safer than watching someone else getting laid. But of course, the downfall was that now I felt like someone was breathing down my neck, icy nerves prickled along my skin, and sure, I had the Taser from my purse, but that shit still had to be used in very close proximity.

Not my first choice, if a serial killer was finding a giant piece of wood to clock me over the head.

“I know where you live,” I said. “I just wanted someone on the phone in case I get attacked.”

“Or maybe you don’t go out to the shop and call someone from the safety of the locked house,” he said so obnoxiously that I had a vivid fantasy of punching him in the throat if he were in front of me. “Call Jax. He’ll come check it out. Isn’t that part of his baby daddy job now?”

“No,” I hissed. “He doesn’t have any … baby daddy jobs.”

“Well, it looks like you need a keeper, so maybe he should.” The door opened, and music flooded the background again. “Go inside. Call someone local, and text me when the murderer has been apprehended.”

“You are no help.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” he said in an annoyingly level voice.

The call disconnected with a click, and I growled under my breath. Thumb tapping the side of my phone, I considered my options. If I called the cops and it was nothing, everyone in town would know.

Through the eerie darkness of the trees, there was a crack of a branch, and I sucked in a sharp breath when, from the tree directly above me, a previously invisible owl let out a low, bone-chilling hoot. Emitting a high-pitched shriek, I whirled, black Taser facing forward.

My breath was coming in embarrassing pants, but nothing was in front of me. I let out a shaky exhale and winced when the baby kicked down toward my bladder.

“Lord, I can see it now,” I whispered. “Pregnant woman—too friggin curious for her own good—accidentally tases rare owl and then pees her pants.”

Fumbling my phone, I decided to take Parker’s advice and call Jax. Eyes locked on the windows so I didn’t miss anything, I watched the flashlight pivot to the side, and his deep voice filled the line.

“Poppy? What’s up?”

“I’m not sure,” I said slowly. The nerves made my voice tremble a little and I winced .

“Are you okay?” he asked sharply.

“Umm, I think so. Do you have a minute?”

There was nothing but deathly silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. All I could hear was my pulse roaring in my ears and a slight exhale from Jax. “Yeah, of course.”

“You’re not … out, are you?” The following hesitation had me wincing. It was a Friday night.

“Sort of,” he hedged.

The image of him at a bar, or even worse, walking out of a bar with someone, sort of made me want to curl up in a ball and hide. But hey! At least I wasn’t thinking about a murderer standing two feet behind me because that image made me want to shoot fire at some invisible woman who may or may not exist.

Pregnancy hormones were so, so fun.

“Never mind,” I said miserably.

But no. There was no never mind-ing happening. “What do you need, Poppy?”

The flashlight was stationary now, and I backed up a couple of steps now that I had an actual helpful person on the phone. “Well, it’s probably nothing, but Parker yelled at me when I was going to check it out myself because everyone is gone right now, but I think maybe someone’s breaking into the woodshop,” I said in a tumble of rushed words.

It was a strange time for Jax to practice breathing exercises, but that was what it sounded like. The house seemed like it was a mile away when I glanced over my shoulder, and sure, if I ran for it, I could probably get there quickly, but I hadn’t run voluntarily in ages.

“Poppy,” he said slowly.

The flashlight clicked off, and my breath snagged ice cold in my lungs.

“Oh shit,” I whispered. I whirled again, foot poised to break the land speed record for a pregnant person. The sound of the shop door opening had my heart seizing, and I rushed forward, far, far too fast, definitely far too loudly, just as he spoke again.

“Poppy, calm down. It’s me.”

My head snapped around. “What?”

I could hear his voice behind me. And in my ear. And Jax in surround sound was just too much for my poor, overwhelmed body to handle. “I was in the shop looking for something.”

That was when I tripped, my foot snagging on a root, and I pitched forward hard, knee slamming into the hard ground first, followed swiftly by the heel of my hand as it broke my fall when I threw my arm out in front of me.

“Dammit,” he bit out, “you were out here?”

I rolled to my backside, cradling my wrist against my chest, my heart jolting unevenly when he jogged over to my side. “Owww,” I moaned.

Jax crouched by my side. I could hardly make out his features in the dark, but his smell—clean and crisp and woodsy—had my eyes fluttering shut briefly. “Where did you fall? Did you hit your stomach?”

I shook my head. “My knee and…” A razor-sharp pain sliced through my wrist, then I tried to move it, and I hissed, “Oh, my hand. It’s my wrist, I think.”

Jax stood, sliding his big hands underneath my armpits. “Okay, we’re going to stand slowly. You feel any pain in your leg or knee when you put weight on it, and I’ll carry you.”

I swallowed. Hard. The immediate vision of him striding through the dark woods with me in his arms was a little too historical romance-come-to-life for my current state, and I said a silent prayer that my leg and knee would be just fine.

Thankfully, I was able to stand, only the slightest ache in my knee. He kept a hand hovering just behind my back, no longer touching me once I stood, and he clicked the flashlight onto his phone again, aiming down at the ground. The bright white light bouncing off the dirt threw his sharp features into view.

His face was close to mine, and I couldn’t really tear my eyes away from the concerned wrinkle in his brow. “I’m okay,” I whispered.

Jax’s jaw clenched, a shadow appearing in the hollow of his cheek from the reflection of the light. He hadn’t shaved yet.

I really liked that he hadn’t shaved yet.

“What are you doing out here?”

I let out a groan. “Being that person I hate when I watch movies or read books. You know, the too stupid to live one who’s like, oh! I’ll be fine. I’ll just check it out myself with my trusty Taser.” I glanced down at the ground. “Oh shit, I dropped my Taser.”

Jax’s answering sigh was so full of long-suffering that I almost cracked a smile. He cast the light from his phone in the direction of where I fell, then leaned over to snag the device in question. One dark eyebrow arched high when he handed it back to me. “Try not to hit an innocent bystander with this one, all right?”

“I almost got an owl,” I told him as we walked shoulder to shoulder back toward the house.

“Sure you did.”

“I’m not sure I like how doubtful you sound. Did you see how quick my reflexes were? I turned and fell the exact moment you opened that door. It’s impressive, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll think about that stunning athletic display all night.”

Another tree branch appeared in our path, and Jax cupped my elbow in his hand to steady me as we stepped over it, disappearing just as quickly. His fingers were so long. Wasn’t that such a strange thing to think about? People could be similar heights. Similar weights. And one man could have short, stubby fingers. Another man could have long, almost graceful fingers.

Dexterous fingers.

Strong and calloused. Capable of … a lot.

Was I breathing hard again?

I rolled my lips between my teeth and yanked the reins on wherever that train of thought was going to go.

We cleared the branch, sidestepping toward a clearer path back to the house, and Jax’s fingers disappeared from my skin, the heat lingering after he’d dropped his hand back to his side. The walk from the shop wasn’t long, and we ascended the porch quietly, him walking just behind me as I opened the door to the house.

Jax paused in the doorway and looked at the scene I’d left behind—quiet music playing on the speaker in the corner, a fire crackling in the stone fireplace that dominated the center of the wide open space between the kitchen and the family room. My book was tossed on top of a big fuzzy blanket.

“One of Harlow’s?” he asked.

I nodded slightly. “That’s probably what got my imagination going a bit too well when I saw the flashlight. Of course I chose her freakiest book.” I ran my good hand through my hair because God knows what it looked like. My pajama pants hung beneath my bump, and a plain light pink sleep tank—too small for how far along I was—was practically shrink-wrapped to my chest and stomach. At least I was wearing a bra. A flimsy one, but it was something.

“First-aid kit?” he asked.

“Umm, the bottom drawer to the right of the sink.” I tried to rotate my wrist and winced. Maybe not.

He cut me a sideways glance when a hiss of pain left my lips. “Leave it steady. You should go in and get it checked tomorrow. ”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” I told him.

“I must have missed the time you gained X-ray capabilities with your eyes.”

“Perk of pregnancy.” I tilted my head. “And aren’t you a giant hypocrite? Remember when you slashed your arm open on a jobsite, rinsed it off with water and told Wade to put some duct tape on it when it clearly needed stitches.”

Jax pushed a few things aside in the cabinet, eyes locking briefly on mine. “And look at how well that turned out. Arm didn’t fall off or anything.”

“That’s your barometer of success?” I snorted. “It’s an actual miracle that you’re still alive.”

“No argument there,” he muttered. Arms flexing underneath the kitchen lights, I watched through lowered lashes as I tried to pinpoint why this felt different.

No safety net. That was a big one. But there wasn’t one the day before either when I gave him The List.

God, was I a secret control freak? Maybe it was the times I didn’t expect him, and didn’t have time to prep what I was going to say or do that we had moments like this. We’d never be like Cameron and Ivy with sharp, witty banter because it would make my brain hurt to keep that up all the time, and we weren’t Harlow and Ian with an entire lifetime of shared memories. We were somewhere in the middle.

Always hovering between labels.

For years, we were nothing.

Now … now we were something.

In the daylight, when we were surrounded by people—friends or family or coworkers, it didn’t seem to matter—it was so much easier to keep this compartmentalized. Keep him compartmentalized.

In his neat, tidy little box where my sanity demanded he stay.

Jax pulled the big plastic kit from the drawer and motioned me toward the sink. “Come here. ”

The quietly spoken command was an awful lot like he yanked on an invisible string tied around my spine. My steps were quiet as I joined him by the counter and presented my hand. The skin along the meat of my palm was scraped, red, and angry but not actively bleeding.

Jax motioned for me to come closer with his chin, and I did, angling my hand over the sink while he flipped open the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The cold liquid on my skin had me sucking in a breath, and it bubbled immediately, washing out all the dirt and grime.

I bit down on my bottom lip when he added more. My shoulder brushed against the warm wall of his chest as he bent his head over my hand. He didn’t touch me. Hadn’t touched me since we came back into the house, and it felt intentional, with his hand hovering just beneath mine, like he’d step in if necessary.

Instead of staring at the hard line of his jaw or the gentle way he cleaned my hand, I kept my gaze on my injured palm.

Jax set the bottle down and snagged a clean piece of paper towel, gently dabbing at the leftover white bubbles on my scrape until it was dry. For a moment, he paused, staring down at my hand like he was trying to make a decision. His chest expanded on a deep breath, and he slid his fingers underneath the back of my hand.

The tips of his fingers were rough with callouses, a detail I’d chained up somewhere in the back of my mind. Goose bumps prickled along my forearms, and I prayed he didn’t notice. Jax brought my hand up to his mouth, blowing softly on my skin, and my skin went warm, my stomach weightless.

Even when he stopped, Jax didn’t drop my hand, and I could hear my pulse roaring in my ears. Slowly, he lowered it again, removing his hand from underneath mine.

My fingers tingled after he did.

“Sit,” he said quietly.

With a hammering heart, I listened .

Jax pulled another chair so that he was facing mine, sliding closer after he set down a bandage and the nude-colored athletic wrap. The air was thick and tense when he moved my arm, settling it onto the table so that he could maneuver it easily. Adding a small dob of antibiotic gel to the bandage, he smoothed it over my skin with deft movements, and if I hadn’t been studying his face so closely, I might have missed it.

The tightness in his jaw, and the slight catch in his breath when my fingers curled inward, brushing the rough skin on his knuckles when he lingered for just a second past what was necessary.

The first couple of passes with the wrap had me filling my lungs and holding my breath, eyes closing at the dull, throbbing pain radiating up my arm.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay.” The more he tightened the fabric, the less it hurt. But still, he gentled the way he pulled. Those long, graceful fingers angled my hand as he worked, just whispers of pressure like I was made of glass.

“Wh-why were you out there?” I asked, cursing the slight hiccup in my voice at the tenderness he was showing.

Jax didn’t answer right away and simply made a few more rotations with the tape. “Needed to borrow something from Ian for a project.” His eyes locked on mine for a moment. “Should’ve told you I was coming. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t scared,” I said airily. “I had the Taser, after all.”

The firm line of his mouth gentled, but it wasn’t quite a smile.

Jax tugged my hand up toward his mouth again, using the edge of his teeth to snap the end of the tape. My belly swirled dangerously as he licked his lips. Thank God he wasn’t watching me, because I slammed my eyes shut, needing to snap that visual.

If my sanity needed Jax in a locked box, then that box was blown the hell open. My ribs rattled on each deep pulled breath, and I conjured every ounce of restraint in my possession.

I could do this without a safety net, agenda, or clear, precise plan.

I could do it because it was necessary—not just for me but also for the baby and for Jax too.

“I need to say something,” I started, “and I just need you to listen because I don’t want to make things weird.”

Because he was looking down, replacing the roll of tape in the kit, his cheeks lifted on a smile that I couldn’t see, his hands still moving the wrap around my wrist. “Go ahead.”

“I know I threw a lot at you yesterday, and I think I have a tendency to hyperfocus on the things I can control when everything else feels … too big, I guess.”

“Did stuff feel too big for you yesterday?”

“A little,” I admitted. I kept my eyes on his face and willed him to look up at me. I needed him to understand this, and said a little prayer that I’d be able to explain this in the right way. “I broke up with Dean after the family dinner the other night.”

Jax froze, his hands on the first-aid kit and every inch of his big, muscular body bowstring tight. “Why?”

I wasn’t sure what made me tell him. I hadn’t even really made the decision beforehand. There was no requirement to clear my personal relationships past Jax.

The rough edge to his voice had my hands trembling slightly where they now sat in my lap. “It wasn’t because of you,” I assured him quickly. “And I know the timing of it seems like it was, but…” I floundered when he continued to sit eerily still in front of me, “I broke up with him for the same reason I said no to you when you proposed.”

Finally, finally, Jax lifted his head, the dark intensity of his eyes making me sit back in my chair. “What’s that?”

“He was a very, very well-timed distraction. It was wrong of me not to face that earlier, and I hate that it took me four months to do it. Dean is still a good person, and he will make someone very happy, but he’s not what I need right now either.”

The line of Jax’s throat worked on a swallow. “What do you need?”

Three days to sleep.

Seven pounds of Sour Patch Kids.

And the kind of sex I hadn’t had since the man sitting one foot away from me shared his bed.

My exhale was shaky as I pushed those immediate, illogical wants behind a wall of more rational thoughts.

This wasn’t about what I wanted. It was about what I needed.

Through the thick, crackling tension clouding the room, I somehow managed to breathe. “I need the same thing as before. For us to be friends. Might even need it more now than I did when I said it.”

Why did the look in his eyes make me want to burst into tears?

“Is that why Ian asked if you were okay yesterday?”

Slowly, I nodded.

He let out a small noise of understanding—half hum, half groan—pinching his eyes shut and pushing away from the table. While he put the first-aid kit away, I could practically see the resolve on his face.

“And are you?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He shifted, taking a deep breath. “Or do you need to, like, talk about your feelings or whatever.”

“You want to talk about my feelings?” I asked, doubt coloring my tone.

“Or whatever,” he bit out.

I bit down on my bottom lip to hide my smile, but it was too late. Jax made a small scoffing noise when I couldn’t contain it, and he crossed his arms tight across his wide chest. “It felt like something a friend might ask.”

Tilting my head, I stared at the tense way he held his body, the darting eye contact that couldn’t rest on mine for more than a few seconds. A nervous Jax Cartwright was my crack, and that was a dangerous realization. “And if I said I wanted to sit and watch a sad movie and cry because it would make me feel better? Would you do that?”

His jaw tightened, grim resignation filling his face. “If that’s what you needed, sure.”

“ Titanic is my go-to cry movie.”

“Shit,” he muttered, swiping a hand over his mouth. “I’m out. Call one of your sisters. That’s fucking torture.”

Laughing, I sat back in my chair.

His entire frame relaxed, and he gave a slight eye roll. “You’re evil, woman.”

“A for effort,” I told him seriously. “But I promise, I’m fine. I think single is a good look for me at this point in my life.” Slowly, I stood from the chair, hand on my stomach. “We’ve got enough going on right now, don’t we, nugget?”

The smile faded off my face when I looked back up to find Jax staring at me intently.

“That’s a good look for you too,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Pregnancy.” He swallowed, the tops of his cheekbones flushing a slight pink. “It looks fucking incredible on you.”

My heart raced, and I tried to ignore it. “That something a friend would say too?”

Jax merely held my gaze for a long moment, then the side of his mouth hooked up in a slight grin. “Yeah, it is.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, pausing after he opened the front door. “Can you do me a favor the next time you think someone’s breaking in?”

I grinned. “What’s that? ”

His eyes traced over my face. “Call me before you leave the house, all right?”

Slowly, I nodded, pulse racing as he disappeared through the door. Thank God the chair was directly underneath me, because I immediately sat back down.

“Right then,” I whispered. “I can totally do this.”