All That Remains Page 14

  “Thank you, junior college security,” she mumbles, stepping into the stadium and moving to take a seat on the first row benches.

  The coach’s deep voice can be heard issuing a few orders before one loud coordinated group shout and the team breaks up. Jostling with each other, the players grab their helmets, pads, and other gear and start her way. She glances around for the entrance to the locker room and sees she’s on the team side.

  Perfect.

  As the guys disperse, she notices West’s tall, dark head standing above a few other players still talking to a coach. He’s wearing a sleeveless muscle shirt, his pads and helmet both at his feet still. His white pants fit him to perfection and her throat goes dry at the sight. West Rutledge belongs in a football uniform. A smaller student wearing khakis and a team shirt grabs West’s equipment and West lifts his head. She sees his mouth forming words when suddenly he stops and she finds his gaze staring straight at her.

  She is fifty yards, or more, away from him, but he sees her and she can’t control herself any longer. Standing slowly, she takes a few steps forward and stops, watching as West returns his focus to his coach and starts talking again. She waits for him to stop, and when the coach gives him a fist bump she moves again. To her left, several players are already talking with the girls that were sitting on the bleachers when she arrived, but she ignores them focusing solely on West. He stops halfway to her, running his hand through his messy hair and lifting his shirt to wipe his face.

  His pause makes her still for one moment and then thinking of all of those big moments in movies where the couple is reunited at last, she speeds up. She hurries towards him with abandonment until a crooked smile cracks on his gorgeous face and then she is running. His arms reach out for her as she flings herself at him. Her body flies through the air and her legs wrap around his waist as she weaves her hands into his hair. Within moments, she is holding his face in front of her as his hands hold her rear and lower back, pulling her close to his body.

  “What are you doing here?” he gasps, a wide smile playing on his lips.

  “Shut up and kiss me,” she demands, swooping in and kissing him hard.

  Whoops and cat-calls sound around them, but she doesn’t care. The salty taste of his sweat is Heaven to her after almost ten months. Tears stream down her face as he kisses her with the same abandonment she is using.

  He lets out a groan as their mouths tangle together and Jules wants nothing more than to kiss him for hours; instead, she presses a few final soft kisses to his lips and pulls back slowly to look at him. West’s arms tighten protectively around her and she gets the feeling he isn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.

  “Hi to you, too,” he whispers softly, his brow arching over his warm brown eyes before he drops his forehead to her chest. Jules sets her chin atop his hair.

  “Sorry, I got a little carried away,” she speaks over his head.

  “You can greet me that way any day, Buffy,” he declares as he asks her again why she is there.

  His voice saying ‘Buffy’ makes her breath catch and it takes a moment before she can speak.

  “I got tired of waiting for you to fight for me,” she admits on a low sigh and he pulls back, bumping her chin.

  “I’ve been a damn idiot. That stupid party. I let you walk away with Leroy -”

  “Levi.”

  “Whatever.” He grins and she gives him a watery smile. “Point is, I wanted to talk to you and I chickened out. I kept letting myself think you were happier without me. That you were better off.”

  “You made decisions without asking me. You never asked me once what I wanted, what I needed.

  “Baby, I know. I was stupid. I screwed up.”

  “Don’t,” she warns, tugging at his hair so she can meet his eyes. “We’ve both done some stupid stuff.”

  West grins. It’s the sly grin that can make a girl drop her panties in two point six seconds flat and Jules’ pulse quickens. “We need to talk.”

  “Talking is overrated.” Jules smiles, leaning down to kiss him again when a deep voice interrupts them.

  “Rutledge! Off the field.”

  A few claps sound in the background and Jules laughs against West’s lips as he curses and acknowledges his coach.

  “Going!”

  West calls out to his coach and Jules wiggles preparing to jump from his arms, but he holds tight, his fingers digging into her upper thigh and pressing against her lower back. As he walks off the field, she hugs him tightly, pressing her face against the sweaty side of his neck. His stride is smooth and strong and he carries her as if she is as light as a feather. West stops at the bleachers, where she unwraps her legs and allows him to stand her on the bench in front of him so they are face-to-face.

  “How did you know I was playing ball?”

  “How could you not tell me?” she counters. She tries not to sound hurt, but she can see by the fall of his face he can tell she is bothered.

  He cocks his head to the side almost sheepishly. “Yeah, we have a lot to discuss, don’t we?”

  She nods and his hands slide from her hips to cup her face and he presses a soft kiss to her lips before moving back. “Wait here while I shower and change? I’ll be quick.” he asks hopefully, and she smiles at the anticipation in his voice.

  “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Promise?”

  “I swear.”

  Twenty-Two

  West

  Ignoring the ribbing he receives from his teammates, West takes the fastest shower of his life. Within twenty minutes, he is heading out of the locker room and down the tunnel back into the stadium, water still dripping down his back. The entire time he was away from her his mind asked one question - Is this for real?

  * * *

  When he looked up from the conversation with Coach and saw the glow of red hair in the seats, he knew immediately it was her. After everything they’ve been through, he never expected her to run into his arms and throw herself at his body, let alone his lips; not without a lot of explanations. He recalls her words Saturday night before she walked away and left him at his truck:

  “I’ve never hated you, West. I wanted to.”

  When he was in Crestdale meeting with Dr. Steel several times a week, he thought he’d finally gained the strength he needed to stop blaming himself for the things that happened to the people he loved. However, Saturday when he saw the ugly scar running the length of her arm he faltered. He ran. Again.

  She deserves better, and yet he knows with every fiber of his being that he isn’t going to walk away from her tonight. He can’t, he tells himself as he walks onto the field and looks to the bleacher where he left Jules.

  She’s gone.

  His pulse races in a moment of panic when he doesn’t see Jules waiting for him and he quickens his pace as he heads toward the exit gates. He rounds the corner of the stadium, his heart racing in his chest, and comes to a stop when he spots her. She is leaning against the door of his truck, with her legs crossed at the ankle and her head bent as she fiddles with her cell phone. That copper colored hair he loves so much hangs down the side of her face and he lets out a sigh of relief.

  West takes his time walking to his truck, watching her as he goes and waiting for her to look up. He wonders if she regrets running to him. He can’t help but think it’s grossly unfair that she came after him when he should have been the one chasing her.

  She looks up when he’s almost there and a warm smile appears as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

  “You scared the hell out of me. I thought you left.”

  “Sorry.” Jules looks down and plays with her phone before waving it at him and finishing her sentence, “I left my phone in the car.”

  “And… you had an important call to make?” he asks as he drops his duffel on the asphalt next to her feet.

  “Something like that.”

  He smiles at her diversion. “Did Katie tell you I was here?”


  “Sort of.” She plays coy again and he shakes his head.

  “Ummm, I received your letters today,” she says and his face screws up in confusion as she rushes to explain. “My parents had them and I guess they didn’t think to tell me I had mail, but they sent them with some other stuff and so I was reading them and Katie -”

  “Whoa, wait!” West blurts, still trying to understand what’s happened. “My letters?”

  “The ones you wrote while you were at Crestdale,” she explains and his mouth goes dry.

  “Dani,” he hisses. Dani must have sent them to her recently. Damn her for sticking her nose in his relationship.

  “Dani?”

  “I didn’t mean for you to see those. I mean, I wrote them, but didn’t plan on sending them. I gave them to a friend, Dani.” He trails off as Jules’ eyes go wide with understanding.

  “Oh,” she breathes. “Were you never going to tell me how you felt? Were you not planning to fight for me?” She pushes her hair back with her hand and West catches a glimpse of her anchor tattoo as she starts to chuckle. “God, I’m so stupid, I just came running to you.”

  “No!” He leans in and blows out a breath, heavy with emotion. “I didn’t mail those letters because I didn’t want you to feel pity for me. I wanted to win you back on my own.”

  He takes her arm and lifts it to his face to inspect the beautiful black anchor she put there. Studying it, he lowers his lips and presses a kiss to the tattoo, her arm stiffening under the touch. Now that he’s had a small taste, he can’t stop there and he leans forward slightly, his mouth grazing over her skin to the scar.

  “I’m so sorry, Buffy.” The words are faint as he murmurs them over and over while his lips leave a trail of kisses along the length of the damage. “Every time I’m around you, I’m at war with myself. I want to fight for you and keep you as mine, and then I want to run and hide because you deserve better and I swear I will screw it all up again. I’ll hurt you, I’ll break you-”

  He raises her arm, pressing it against the glass next to her head as he kisses it. His body is mere millimeters from hers and his fingers grip her wrist, as his thumb presses into the anchor, rubbing it softly.

  She hasn’t moved or spoken since his lips touched her skin and he lifts his face from her arm, fully expecting to see an angry girl. What he finds instead breaks his control. Inches away from his face is Jules’ beautiful one. She’s watching him with silent tears running down her lovely cheeks and he wants to die.

  “Don’t cry,” he pleads as his free hand touches her cheek. “You know how I hate it when you cry.”

  Jules right hand wraps around the back of his neck and she pulls his face to hers, their mouths so close he can feel every shaky breath she takes blow across his lips.

  “I want to hear the whole story.”

  “You what?” he whispers, restraining himself from swooping down and kissing her.

  “The whole story,” she repeats. “Why you left. What happened between you and my parents when I wasn’t awake.”

  “Jules?” He hesitates, not wanting to give her the full story for fear of putting a divide between her and her family.

  Her fingers slide into his hair and she tugs his face back slightly so she can look at him. There’s fire in those eyes as she pins them on him and repeats with more force. “I want to hear the whole story.”

  “Why?”

  “You loved me. I know you did, West. I laid in that hospital bed and I waited and waited for you to come back or to call and explain everything because I knew you wouldn’t just walk away. Then when you didn’t come, I pretended to hate you. I tried to convince myself that what we had wasn’t real or was puppy love or brought on by the stress of the tornado and everything else going on… but that was stupid. You know it and I know it. We were stupid to think we could walk away from this. You loved me and -”

  West doesn’t allow her to finish her sentence before he kisses her. His hand moves from her cheek up into her hair and pulls her forward, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her for himself.

  It’s the sweetest madness he’s ever known.

  And he never wants to lose this feeling.

  When his hips make contact with hers, it’s a mind-blowing pleasure only surpassed by the more intimate act of having her beneath him. Every part of him wants to throw her in the back of his truck, rip off her clothes, and show her the depth of his need for her. To use his body to beg hers for forgiveness. Instead, he slows down. He pulls back, even as she fights with his mouth to keep kissing him, and presses several small kisses to her lips as he allows himself to consider what this moment might mean.

  “LOVE, Jules Blacklin,” he finally says when she lets him leave her mouth. “I love you. I never stopped.”

  Her arm is still pressed against the glass next to their heads and she opens her fist, splaying her fingers wide as she watches his face. Words aren’t necessary as he let’s go of her wrist and runs his hand up her arm until he winds his fingers between hers. The feeling of holding her hand again is indescribable. He takes in the girl before him, her cheeks flushed pink from their kissing, her chin red from the scratchiness of the stubble along his jaw, and he finds a peace he’s been missing since that cold December night when he almost lost her.

  “I’ve missed that so much,” she sighs and her head swivels against the window to look at their hands. “I missed you. I missed your strength.”

  “You didn’t need my strength. You had your own.”

  Her faces scrunches up, her brows furrowing in protest before they relax. “You’re right. I found my strength, but I needed yours, too.”

  “No, baby, you didn’t. I knew you were strong enough to get through what happened without me. I never would have left if I thought differently -”

  A shout of laughter interrupts West as more of his teammates trickle out of the stadium. The commotion reminds West they have an audience not twenty feet away and he steps back and pulls Jules away from the truck. Their hands remain connected as they fall to their sides.

  “Do you want to go talk?”

  “Will you tell me the whole story?”

  He smiles, a small laugh leaving him at her stubbornness. “If you want me to, then yes.”

  “Okay.”

  Walking her to the passenger door, he looks about the parking lot. He has no idea which vehicle belongs to her. “We can pick up your car later, if that’s okay. It’ll be safe here.”

  She climbs into the truck with a smile, “That’s perfect.”

  “Do you mind if I take you somewhere?” he asks when he climbs in next to her and starts the engine.

  She tucks her hair behind her ear, shyly sending him a glance from the corner of her eye before offering sweetly, “I’ll go anywhere you want.”

  The small fear of the past kicks him gently in the gut when her big eyes look at him that way. He wishes he had time to call Dr. Steel or Dani, or even one of his brothers, so someone could tell him to stop worrying, and being afraid to screw this up and live in the moment.

  “Okay, Buffy,” he teases lightly, pushing the doubt away as he’s learned to do and throwing the truck into drive. “I know the perfect place.”

  Twenty-Three

  Jules

  Jules pinches her arm discreetly as West pulls onto the street and heads away from campus. I must be dreaming because this is too easy, she tells herself as she sneaks a peek at his profile. His cheeks are splotchy and red from the heat, a Russian trait he inherited. She recalls how she used to tease that he looked like he was blushing. His dark hair is damp still, and while it is shorter than it was in high-school, the thick mass still sticks up and about in its normal careless way. The most prominent change she can see is his jawline. It’s more chiseled, something she didn’t think was possible, and harder looking. He looks like the man he is, instead of a teenage boy. His shoulders and arms bare the same resemblance. Everything about him screams mature, hard, and she feels somewhat mournf
ul of the months she missed out on. The months that made him into this man.

  “You’re staring,” he remarks without looking her way and she flushes with embarrassment.

  “You’ve changed.” As soon as she says the words, she wants to take them back. She feels silly remarking on his physical appearance.

  “How’s that?”

  Jules’ mind scrambles for something to say. “Your muscles,” she blurts out, pursing her lips and shaking her head as she turns to look out the window.

  West laughs gently. ”My muscles?”

  She lets out a deep breath, “Forget it. I was just thinking stupid thoughts.”

  “Nothing you think is stupid,” he points out, reaching for her hand and pulling it across the cab so he can press a kiss to the top of it. Their fingers stay entwined and she sighs inwardly.

  This is too easy.

  Jules knocks the thought away and smiles at him. “I was admiring them, your muscles, that is,” she finally explains after a brief pause, grinning as he flexes a little in the driver’s seat. “Football’s had a positive effect on you, physically speaking.”

  “You’ve changed, too.”

  “I have?” Jules straightens and preens, her fingers automatically touching her face and smoothing her hair, causing West to chuckle at her again.

  “You’re more beautiful, if that’s even possible -”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “It’s true. Plus, your hair is a deeper red… darker.”

  “Oh, well that’s L’Oreal,” she laughs as she tugs on the strands. “Katie was bored and wanted to color my hair.”

  “It’s still you. I like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  They drive for twenty minutes south of campus before West pulls down a road to a local park. The area is crowded with stay-at-home moms watching their kids play on the playground. A trail that runs around the edge is spotted with joggers and people out walking their pets. Jules admires the area as West drives past the crowd and down a small road leading to another, more secluded, section of the park. There’s a lake and an older playground across from tennis courts surrounded by woods.