Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 26

Jax

“Which one do you like better?” she asked.

I squinted. “You cannot tell me those colors are even the slightest bit different.”

She rolled her eyes, tucking the paint swatches back into the display. “I knew I should’ve asked Greer to help me with this.”

The delicate smell of orange blossoms was too addicting to ignore.

I leaned closer, dropping my mouth closer to her ear. “Yeah, but then you’d have to deal with Greer, and I’m so much more pleasant, aren’t I?”

“You’re something,” she muttered.

With a grin that I knew she couldn’t see, I backed away. The older gentleman working behind the paint counter watched us with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Picking nursery colors?” he asked. “We’ve got some brochures over on the left side if you want to take a peek.”

Poppy and I locked eyes, hers dropping first. “Eventually, yes, we will. Today is just a spare bedroom.” She nudged me with her elbow. “Someone allowed it to be painted a really horrid neon green color.”

He smiled. “Ahh. You might be wanting some color- blocking primer then,” he said. “Why don’t I show you where that is.”

Poppy pushed the cart behind him, chatting warmly as he asked her a few questions about the project. I didn’t follow right away, instead studying an end cap filled with roller covers and brushes. I picked a package of covers, tucking it under my arm while I settled on a two-inch brush. I had my own set of paintbrushes, but it would be smart for Poppy to have her own at the house too.

With that in mind, I picked out another smaller one, a four-inch roller and some covers, along with a few rolls of painters tape. My hands were full when I approached them in the aisle over.

She gave me a curious glance when I dumped everything into the cart, but I ignored it and kept wandering.

I studied the contents of a basic tool set with a bright pink cover with narrowed eyes. What good would something like this be if she had an emergency in the middle of the night? I sighed, striding back to the front of the store to grab a second cart. Extra light bulbs. Emergency flashlights. Batteries. Small camping lanterns in case she lost power. Every new section of the store had me running through an exhaustive list of what she could possibly need in any given scenario. Maybe an extra Taser or two couldn’t hurt either. My chest pinched, and I rubbed at it.

Fuck, had it always been so dangerous to live alone? I’d made it down three aisles, adding more and more, until she found me trying to decide between two different power drills. Quickly, I stepped away from the cart because she’d probably think I’d lost my fucking mind.

“You really should start wearing a bell around your neck,” she said easily. “And here I thought a kid wandering off some day would be my biggest issue.” Poppy’s cart bumped the front of mine, and her eyes widened when she saw the contents. “My goodness, I didn’t peg you as an impulse shopper. Are we facing down an apocalypse I don’t know about?”

I ignored her, lifting my chin toward her cart. “Did he sell you shit we don’t need?”

“Undoubtedly. But he was so sweet, I couldn’t say no.”

“Not sure I’ve ever had that problem,” I told her.

Poppy rolled her eyes, but a glint of affection was buried in her expression, so I decided to take it as a compliment. She walked around the carts to show me two more paint chips, each one starting with light sky blue and ending in a deep, rich navy. “What about these?” she asked, tapping on the middle color of each swatch.

“Whatever you want,” I said.

Tilting the swatches toward the light coming in through the front windows, Poppy didn’t notice the way I was staring at her. The light dusting of freckles over her nose started to come in more during the warm weather, a sure sign she spent more time in the sun. There was one above the right side of her mouth, and my pulse sped up the longer I studied the lush, pink curves of her lips.

What would they taste like?

Sweet. I knew that for sure.

Sinful. Didn’t doubt that one either.

Poppy would taste like forever, and the truth of it terrified me to my core. The way I wanted it did too.

What would she do if I curved my hand around the back of her neck and simply … kissed her?

God, the way my chest ached the longer I thought about it. What if I went my entire life and didn’t know the feel of her lips on mine?

It was inexcusable. Unpardonable.

If I’d missed that opportunity out of habit or fear or some ridiculous notion that kissing her would somehow make it easier to let her walk away.

“This one,” Poppy declared .

I blinked. “Sure. It’s great.”

She glanced up at me. “Did I lose you there?”

“Just thinking about something else.”

Instead of sweeping away that disappointed feeling, I let it settle deep under my skin, knowing full well that if I ever had the opportunity to kiss this woman, I’d be fucking taking it.

Poppy smiled. “Dreaming of a blue bedroom, are we?”

Tugging the paint swatch from her hand, I checked the name on the one she’d chosen. Smoke. A bit farther down the chip, I studied the deepest color and made a small humming noise. “I wanted a dark room like this when I was younger,” I said. My thumb rubbed against the dark greenish-blue on the bottom.

“You didn’t get it?”

Lost for a moment in the memory, I shook my head. “My mom thought I’d get sick of it after a year. Didn’t want to hassle with it.” I swallowed hard, the memory crawling up my throat like a spider coming through a pipe. “Couldn’t blame her, really. My mom worked two jobs most of my life. She was always busy and tired.”

The money to buy paint and the time necessary to do it were a luxury she didn’t really have.

Poppy’s shoulder brushed against my bicep when she shifted out of the way of someone going down the aisle, my eyes falling closed at the feel of her skin on mine.

“Does she live around here?”

“No.”

The thoughtful twist to Poppy’s lips told me this conversation wasn’t quite over. “Would you want me to invite her to the baby shower my sisters are throwing this summer?”

A cynical laugh threatened to slip past even the staunchest of my defenses, but I swallowed it down. “Not sure that’s necessary, no.”

The way she glanced up at me made me feel like she was trying to crawl into my brain. “You don’t see her? ”

“Nope. Last I heard, she was living in on the east coast with husband number four, so hopefully he’s got the patience and the bank account to stick around longer than the last three.”

“Probably why I’ve never heard her mentioned,” Poppy said lightly. “When did she move away?”

God, were we doing this in the middle of the hardware store? It was like prying the lid off a jar that had been rusted shut for a decade or more. The groan of disuse practically echoed through the aisles when I tried to fumble for an answer.

“When I was eighteen.” Reaching forward, I pulled a canvas drop cloth off the shelf and tossed it into her cart.

“And you stayed?” she asked with the slightest tilt of her head. “Why?”

“Henry,” I answered easily. “He was more my family than she was. And maybe your brother too. Can’t get rid of the prick now, even when I do something like get you pregnant and ghost for three months.”

Poppy let out a shocked laugh. “Are we joking about this now?”

I stared down at her, feeling the slip in my defenses, the way she dug her graceful fingers into them and yanked and yanked with all her might. “Maybe.”

She hummed, arching one dark eyebrow.

Waiting to see if she’d ask any more questions about my mom was agony, but my jaw unclenched when she dropped the subject. I handed back the paint chip. “It’s a good color,” I said.

Poppy stared down at it, eventually nodding. I pulled the color-blocking primer out and set it back on the shelf. She scoffed.

“I’m telling you, we don’t need it with the color you’re picking. It’s dark enough to cover.” I ambled next to her as she started pushing the cart back toward the paint counter .

Reaching forward, Poppy grabbed the primer and set it back in the cart. “He’ll feel bad if we don’t take it.”

“Saying no to people is liberating, trust me.”

As we walked, she gave me an inscrutable look.

I shifted, hands tightening on the handle of my cart. “What?”

“I’m not sure I should say it,” she admitted quietly, her eyes deep and dark under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Well now you better.”

Her lips ghosted up in a smile. “Sometimes you have a problem saying no to people.”

I snorted. “Like when?”

The smile faded, a heart-crushing sincerity left in its wake. “You didn’t say no to me,” she said quietly.

The rapid thrumming of my pulse was anything but even. My stomach churned with the way she said it, my throat closing tight with all the words I was shoving down.

Because I wanted you too bad.

Because you’re fucking perfect.

Because that night was everything good and right, and if you’d let me, I’d keep you.

Because when I close my eyes, you’re mine.

“I didn’t,” I replied evenly.

Poppy’s breath caught in her throat, like I’d said all those other words out loud. And for a clock-stopping moment, I had to remind myself that I didn’t.

“I’m going to get the paint,” she said unevenly. Poppy didn’t wait to see me nod slowly, just left me with the cart and didn’t wait to see me drop my chin to my chest as I struggled to breathe.

When she left the aisle, I let out a slow exhale, feeling so wildly out of control that my hands clenched so tight around the handle I was surprised I didn’t crush it flat.

With a backward glance, I studied the full cart I’d left behind, and flagged a worker wearing a cheery red shirt. “ Hey, can you set that aside for me? I’ll be back for it in a little bit.”

The woman nodded, took my name, and I waited for Poppy to appear with two gallons of paint. When I eased them out of her hand, our fingers brushed, and she cleared her throat as we approached the register, side by side.

A pimply-faced teen rang everything up, bagging the items into brown paper bags. He glanced between us and said the total.

My eyebrows shot up. “What the hell do they put in paint these days?”

Poppy elbowed me in the side, smiling sweetly at the kid behind the counter. “Ignore him. We all do.”

The kid gave me a nervous, wide-eyed look, and I sighed. Poppy reached for her purse at the same time I reached for my wallet.

We both froze, gazes clashing.

“Not a chance,” I told her.

Her jaw edged out mulishly. “Jax, I’m the one who wanted to paint the room. I’m paying for it.”

“No, you’re not.”

The dark brown of her eyes sparked hot, and I felt a corresponding tug deep in my gut. “This is not a thing we’re doing,” she said firmly. “It’s for my house, I’m paying for it. You don’t just get to pay for stuff simply because you’re with me.”

I arched an eyebrow, handing my credit card over the counter without dropping my gaze a single inch. Her mouth fell open on a quiet, scoffing noise.

“I’m giving you some cash,” she argued.

Slowly, I leaned down and spoke quietly next to her ear. Her whole body went stock-still. “Try it and I’ll rip up every fucking dollar.”

Poppy inched away until she could look me in the face again. Those high cheekbones held a blush of pink, and her chest was heaving. I held my breath, waiting to see what she’d do.

The kid looked around nervously.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

There was a dangerous narrowing of her eyes, and I hid my grin because I didn’t fancy getting punched in the throat.

After paying, I carried the boxes out to Poppy’s car and settled them in the trunk, waiting for her to leave before I jogged back into the store and purchased the other cart.

Back at the house, I found her waiting patiently on the front step.

“Goodness, I had no idea you were such a slow driver.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Were we racing? I didn’t know.”

Poppy merely smiled, batting her eyelashes. “It’s always a race. At least in our family. The first person back home gets dibs on the remote for the night.”

I shifted the box in my arms and handed her my keys. “The blue one,” I told her. “I have your copy inside.”

She fished it out from the others and unlocked the door, pushing it open and then standing back to let me go through.

“I can’t believe this will be mine,” Poppy said quietly, turning in a slow circle in the family room. Her hand coasted down the front of her bump. “Ours,” she added quietly, and the bittersweet pang that sent through my bones almost took me to my knees.

After a few attempts to swallow that down, I handed her the first box. “This has prep stuff. If you don’t mind bringing it up there. I’ll get the rest.”

“Do you want me to start taping the trim for the primer?”

I gave her a flat look. “We’re not using that primer.”

“Why not? He said we needed it.”

“We don’t, I promise.”

“Poor Ralph,” she sighed. “He’s just trying to do his job, and I can only imagine what kind of men ignore him all the time because they don’t like following directions.”

“You know his name?”

Poppy’s responding facial expression was all incredulity. “Don’t you? He’s worked there for ten years.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t make it a habit of … talking when I go in there.”

“Really? How surprising.”

With a slight roll of my eyes, I went back out to my truck, unloading the rest of the items in a couple of trips. Before I went upstairs, I took the box of tools and emergency supplies into the laundry room, quickly tucking them into the empty cabinets above the washer and dryer.

The two gallons of paint were at the bottom of the other box, and I slipped them out, carrying both in one hand as I walked upstairs. When I turned the corner, she wasn’t in the green bedroom, but I could hear her across the hall in the room that would be hers.

She played some music on her phone, humming softly while I heard the occasional snap of the measuring tape. Having this sort of uninterrupted time with her was soothing in an incredibly foreign way.

“I think I’ll move in midweek if that works for you,” she called out. “Gives me a few days to pack and figure out some furniture. Ian and Cameron won’t be gone, so I’ll have hands for heavy lifting.”

“I’ll be here too,” I told her, unwrapping the canvas drop cloth and laying it over the floor. I finished that, then moved on to uncovering the new brush. “Just text me what time.”

“‘Kay,” she said.

I gripped the small metal can opener in my hand and ran it under the lip of the first gallon of paint. When I pried the loosened lid off, I simply stared for a few seconds.

“What the…” I whispered.

From the doorway, I felt Poppy’s eyes on me. When I glanced up, she was biting down on her bottom lip to stem her growing smile. “It’s a good color,” she said with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Someone should use it.”

What was she doing to me?

Did she have the slightest fucking clue?

I was still staring at the empty doorway when she turned and walked back across the hall, my eyes burning and my head spinning. There was a distant ringing in my ears as I dipped the pristine paint brush into the glossy, wet paint.

The first pull of the brush left behind a thick swath of the deep, rich color, exactly the way I’d imagined it for so many years.

Before I dipped the brush again, I saw the label printed neatly in black marker.

Jax’s Blue.