Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 31

Poppy

I was off the couch before I registered the decision to move, heart thrashing, brain scrambling for clarity.

When the distance between us was something that allowed me to breathe, I turned, hands digging into my hair as I stared at him. “Truth or dare,” I repeated in a whisper.

Jax’s eyes bored into mine—so bright and intense that my lungs were frozen trying to pull in air. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

My eyebrows arched, a disbelieving scoff escaping my opened lips. “Yes, when I was drunk. My decision-making was not at its best that night.”

Jax stood slowly, his gaze never dropping from mine. “Beg to differ, angel.” The sharp rise and fall of my chest was pronounced, mainly because I was having a very hard time breathing, but his attention never wavered from my face. “Which is it, Poppy? Truth or dare?”

The room spun, my head spinning with it, and I desperately wanted it to land in one place.

Both options felt terrifying because everything at the base of this—his surprise presence, the way we’d danced over the line in the sand lately, the ice cream, the way he was looking at me—was as scary as anything I’d ever imagined between us .

One of my hands settled lightly on my hammering chest, and he took another careful step, erasing precious inches between us. “Or do you want to go first?” he asked. “Because I’m happy to do either.”

Inhaling sharp through my nose, I watched him warily, lifting my chin in a dare. “No matter what I ask?”

“Try me.”

What did I want to ask Jax? A million questions flashed in tandem, the bright pop of a camera bulb, and I tried to see through it, a little blinded by all my options. Brow furrowed, I stared down at the ground for a minute.

He took another step, and I forced myself not to retreat equally. Not because I was scared and not because I didn’t want to be closer, but because the moment he came within touching distance, it felt like we were doomed.

Like there was no alternate end to this scene where it didn’t end with us touching each other.

But I wanted more. I didn’t want a limited flare of heat and the sating of an unquenchable thirst. I wanted his heart, and nothing less than that would do at this point.

“I know you’ve got something in there,” he said gently. “A pretty list of things you’ve always wanted to know.”

“That would’ve been smart,” I whispered. The edge of his delicious mouth curled up, and the flickering heat I felt in response had my toes curling. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I tried to sift through everything I’d ever wanted to know, anything I’d ever wanted more clarity on, and came up entirely short, because there was really only one thing that mattered. One thing that would give me enough to press forward. Holding his gaze, I took a small step forward, and the flare in his eyes—triumph and desire—was exactly what I needed. “Okay, I’ll play.”

The muscle in his jaw flexed while he waited for me to continue.

“Truth or dare,” I said .

There was no hesitation as he spoke. “Truth.”

The thrumming of my pulse was all I could hear as I did too.

“Why did you come here tonight? Not the ice cream. Not the storm. Why are you doing all this?” I asked.

My heart was in a tight-fisted grip while I waited for him to answer, years and years of watching him from the sidelines melting into this one breathless moment of waiting. And the worst part, the very worst part, was the warm slide of hope that I felt climbing up my ribs.

It was unstoppable.

So powerful that I was helpless against it.

He knew I didn’t want one night. Knew that anything less than everything would break my heart.

He knew.

And that knowing was the catalyst for all my yearning, and there was no stopping the way it spiraled high and hot, an overwhelming wall of heat that scorched me to the bone.

Jax’s face was a thing of beauty while he searched for the right words to answer me—harsh in his features, handsome and hard and stern and so precious to me that I wished I could put it into words.

The space between us shrank again as he took another step, and I fought a wave of tears at the tender shift in his eyes. “I’m doing this because the chance of being with you is more important to me than anything I could possibly be afraid of.”

A pin drop would’ve sounded like a scream in the pulse of silence that followed, and right on its heels, the violent crack down the middle of my chest at what his words did to me.

A tear slid down my cheek, but I didn’t brush it away. “What are you afraid of?”

Jax watched that tear absorb into my skin, his frame expanding on a deep breath.

“That no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never quite be what you need. That I’ll disappoint you or hurt you.” He stepped closer again, sliding his fingers down my arms until his fingers ghosted over my knuckles. Skin tingling with the spring of goose bumps, I glanced down at the way he slid his rough, calloused fingers between mine. “That I’ll give you the sad wreck of this heart in my chest, and it won’t be enough to make you happy. And God, if anyone has ever deserved the perfect love, it’s you, Poppy.” His voice was so full of heartache and tightly leashed emotion, and when I looked up into his face, I felt another tear at the edge of my lips. “And I’d have to go the rest of my life knowing you’d wasted all this time on someone who doesn’t know how to love the right way.”

That hope clashed mightily with the urge to fling myself into his arms, but I held myself in check, a roaring bark of self-preservation interrupting the movie-perfect ending of this night.

“You’re afraid of getting hurt,” I said. His hands tightened in mine, and eventually, he nodded. “So am I,” I whispered brokenly. Jax’s brow furrowed. “Hearing you say all this is…” I stopped, disentangling my hand from his and laying it on my chest. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. But I have this awful voice in the back of my head screaming why . Why now? Is it just because of the baby? Is it?—”

“It’s not because of the baby.” He interrupted firmly. His eyes were blazing, and my heart wrenched sideways, a dangerous squeezing of that fickle hope again. “Truth or dare, Poppy.”

I blinked a few times. “What?”

He dipped his head, the edge of his nose following my hairline, his ribs expanding on a deep breath that made my pulse dance. “Truth or dare, angel. I suggest picking the second.”

“D-dare,” I said quietly.

“Smart girl,” he said in a growling whisper against my skin, an onslaught of heat right on its heels. Jax withdrew his other hand from mine and reached into his back pocket, holding out a cream-colored envelope with battered edges and my name written on the front. “I dare you to read this, angel.”

With trembling hands, I took the envelope from his grip, curiosity and a heartsick sort of joy threatening to swamp me. Unfolding the paper, my breath caught when I saw the date, a Spanish hotel letterhead, and the sight of my name in messy block letters in blue ink.

“What is this?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. I probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway because the sound of my thrashing heart roared in my ears.

Dear Poppy,

I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t know what that means. Instead of trying to find the perfect words to explain the mess in my head the past three months, I’ll make sense of this in a way that makes sense to you.

Times Poppy Wilder has literally scared me into hiding

-on your 21st birthday, you wore a blue dress. I saw you from behind at the bar, not knowing it was you. Do you remember? I approached while you weren’t watching and told the bartender I’d buy your next drink. When you turned, I felt it like a punch to the gut. That was the first time I ran. Not the last, though.

-the next Christmas, you knit everyone scarves. They were terrible. You were the only one to give me a present that year. Mine was blue and white and gray, and when you gave it to me, it was the softest thing I’d ever felt, and the look in your eyes when I opened it is why I left for two weeks after the holiday. I kept the box on my kitchen table for six months, where I could see it every day because when I saw it, I pictured your face. Every fucking day.

-When your car broke down the following spring, and Cameron and I picked you up after class. You were singing a song in the back seat. It was the first time I heard you sing. I left for a week, and I listened to that song in my tent. Every fucking day.

-On your twenty-third birthday, you organized that fundraiser for the animal shelter. I told Cameron I couldn’t go, but I drove downtown anyway. You were walking three puppies, and one kept trying to eat your shoelaces. You sat in the middle of the parking lot and laughed while they climbed all over you. It made my chest hurt, seeing that kind of goodness. I left for two weeks after that.

-Every time you come to the jobsite, it’s like you bring the sunshine with you, and I don’t know if you realize how powerful that is. You’re kind to everyone—listening to what they have to say, not bullshit fake listening, but like you actually care. You laughed at something I said to Wade once, and it was the first time I heard someone’s laughter and wanted to hear it again and again and again. I left after that too.

I could give you a dozen lists, Poppy. The parts of you that are kind and good and thoughtful and why you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Things I see in you that make me want more. Want everything. And when you’ve spent your entire life avoiding exactly that, it made you the most terrifying thing I could be around. I made excuses every single day for why it wouldn’t work and why I didn’t really feel those things, and why it would pass. Why it should pass.

But it didn’t.

It hasn’t.

I find myself wondering if this is what it was like for you all those years. If you picked apart every moment, every word exchanged. Because that’s what I do. What I’ve done for three months. Twelve weeks. Eighty-four days.

The way you looked at me. The way you laughed. The smile that you gave me. The way you felt in my arms. How incredible it was to wake up with you next to me.

Poppy, every time I roll over in the middle of the night, in that in-between space of being asleep and being awake, I wanted the warmth of someone, and it was never there. Even when I wasn’t alone, I never found that moment, the click of a puzzle piece. Until you.

I don’t know what I’m ready for, but I know that I want you.

More of you. In whatever way you’re willing to give me.

With a hand covering my mouth and my heart wild , I scanned the words again, making sure I wasn’t dreaming this, some mind-fuck hormonally fueled dream that would disappear if someone pinched me.

My cheeks were wet with tears when I clutched the letter to my chest and finally lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve … you’ve had this with you since you got back?” A sob threatened to break free. “When I got in your truck at the store, this is what you had in your hand?”

He nodded, eyes clear and direct and earnest.

“Y-you left all those times because of me?” I whispered brokenly.

At my stunned realization, at the stunning truth of it, his gaze filled with so much warmth it almost took me to my knees.

“I think I couldn’t let myself look at who you really were because once I did, you were the only thing I’d see.”

This was real.

Oh God, this was real .

Jax’s hand coasted up my arm, over my shoulder, until his big palm was anchored at the back of my neck while his eyes locked breathlessly on mine. “I don’t just want more of you, Poppy. I want all of you,” he said in a rough whisper, something torn straight from his heart. “If you need time, if you need me to prove to you that I mean this—that I’m not going anywhere—then I’ll wait, Poppy. I’ll be patient because fuck, have you earned my patience. I’ll be whatever you need me to be in your life, but I couldn’t let a single day pass without you knowing what’s in here.” Gently, he picked up my free hand and settled it on the warm wall of his chest. “You are in here.” When I curled my fingers into his shirt, refusing to let go, he slid his palm down my arm, splaying his big fingers wide on my bump. “And you,” he whispered.

I melted into him, my forehead resting against his shoulder as he withdrew his hand from my neck, curling it around my shoulder to pull me closer. He exhaled heavily, pressing his mouth against the top of my hair.

And my heart. My heart, shaking so mightily that it threatened to burst, only started to settle once he had me in his arms. I snaked my arms around his middle, the warmth of his body seeping deliciously into mine while we stood there and breathed each other in.

From my belly, a mighty little kick smacked right where his hand was, and both our heads snapped up.

“Did you feel that?” I whispered.

Jax’s mouth hung open, and he stared down at my stomach. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

I exhaled a shocked laugh, shifting his hand a little to the right and pressing it down further.

Bump.

Bump bump.

Jax let out a short burst of air, easing to his knees in front of me so he could cradle the sides of my belly with both of his hands. Eyes full of awe and jaw hanging open, he stared in front of him like it was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. My heart was too big for my chest, unable to hold all these big, incredible feelings, and I was happy for the momentary reprieve. Gently, I sifted my fingers through Jax’s hair while he set his forehead on my belly.

“Hello in there,” he said quietly.

I smiled, and when he tilted his face up, setting his chin on my belly, the look in his eye made my heart quiver with anticipation.

“Our game got derailed,” I said softly.

He hummed, lids heavy and gaze heated. “It did. Do you want to keep playing?”

“Maybe.”

Jax took a deep breath and stood again, towering over me in a way that, with any other man, it would’ve felt claustrophobic or threatening. But it didn’t because it was him.

One of his hands came up to cup my face, the tips of his fingers tangling in my hair. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, and I closed my eyes at how good it felt.

How good and how right and how perfect. I tried to imagine waiting for any of this, waiting so that he could pass some invisible test.

There was no freaking way.

What I wanted and what I needed were finally, finally in alignment.

“Truth or dare,” I asked him, hands curling into the front of his shirt.

“Dare,” he said, an urgent sort of edge to his voice that had me narrowing my eyes.

“Yeah?”

Jax nodded, cradling my jaw with his other hand now too, the edge of his thumb tracing the line of my bottom lip as he exhaled shakily.

“So many options,” I murmured, my eyelids fluttering shut at the gentle, inciting touches. “How will I ever choose?”

Jax made a delicious humming noise from the back of his throat that lifted every tiny little hair on my arms.

“Remember what you told me that night?” he asked, eyes tracking over every inch of my face like he couldn’t get enough. Like he couldn’t get enough of me . “You stared down everything that scared you, and it was so fucking brave, Poppy. I couldn’t have done that.”

I smiled, curling my hands around his wrists. “You’re doing it now,” I reminded him.

“Then dare me again,” he said, his voice lowering to a pitch that had the hairs raising on the back of my neck because it was heavy with want. “What you wanted to do that night, angel. Do you remember?”

If I wasn’t so fucking turned on, I would’ve laughed. If I wasn’t anchored so tightly to the bliss of this entire conversation, I might have cried. But I didn’t do either. I was clear-eyed and ready. So was he.

In the feeble cage of my chest, my heart pounded.

My grip tightened on his wrists, and I held his gaze unflinchingly. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Jax dipped his head further, his nose brushing against mine for a moment, then finally, finally, his lips ghosted over mine as he spoke. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this, angel?”

I smiled. He pressed the heat of his chest along mine, one arm wrapping tightly around my waist while he tilted my face up with his other hand, the pressure of his thumb along the line of my chin a sweet sort of prelude to this earth-shattering tipping point we’d been riding for days and weeks and months.

I cradled his jaw with one of my hands and pulled back to meet his fiery gaze, a spark of courage flaring hot in my chest. “Buddy, you’re just catching up. I’ve been waiting a lot longer than you,” I told him.

Jax’s face split into a wide, happy grin as he laughed—the straight white teeth against his stubbled jaw, the brackets around his mouth, and the faint lines around his dark, dark eyes had my heart soaring, my soul stretching into some blissful, sweet place that I’d already dreamed of.

His smile faded, replaced immediately with heat and toe-curling intent. And then finally, finally , Jax Cartwright—the man who I’d loved for as long as I knew the word—dipped his head, slanted his mouth over mine, and with a chest-rattling groan, he kissed me.