“I’m so … very … sorry.”

He knew she’d come. She was his real. The keeper of his past. The defender of his honor. The breath he needed to get to the next one.

“Why?” His voice broke as he turned and fell to his knees at her feet.

She ran her hands through his hair as he hugged her waist. “I’ve had too many opportunities to contemplate death. I think it’s different for everyone, but for me … when my time comes, I won’t ask any questions. I’ll simply say thank you.” Her words fell upon him, soft and steady.

He looked up at her and after a long moment, he nodded. Then he dried them off and led her to his bedroom.

“Jill—”

She pressed her finger to his lips as he sat on the bed before her. “Show me.”

He nodded again and then he showed her. When he filled her, he rushed nothing. There was no hurry. All they had was now. Their hands caressed for a final lasting memory. Their lips said goodbye over and over. Their tears released the anger … the unfairness of it all. Then with a final thrust, he spilled into her with an angry grunt. The kind that said fuck you world. Fuck you cancer. Fuck you PTSD.

He fell asleep in her arms and woke beside a note.

Thank you. ~J

“Good bye, Jillian Knight,” he whispered, folding the note.

Chapter Twelve

It rained for almost forty-eight hours straight, a few weeks too late for the brown lawns and cracked fields to make a comeback with fall just over the horizon. Even the residents of Peaceful Woods agreed to stop watering the lawns and simply succumb to the inevitable.

Ryn received a message from AJ that he no longer needed her services. He thanked her for all the years she worked for him and promised to write her a glowing recommendation to keep on file for future clients. She didn’t call him back. The message was brief, melancholy, and a little haunting. The For Sale sign in his yard explained the termination of services, but it took her by surprise, given his relationship with Jillian.

After a mad dash in the rain to the Knight’s front door, she paused to take a few deep breaths. She hadn’t seen or talked to Jackson since he took her home Friday night. She invited him in, but he insisted it wasn’t a good idea until she took care of the needed “preparations.” Her face flushed every possible shade of red, and that’s when he kissed her—the complete opposite of a chaste kiss. It held so much promise, leaving no confusion as to his intentions … his plans for her.

It took a full twenty-four hours to wipe the smile off her face. In a moment of insanity, she trimmed her girly parts then shaved them bare for the first time ever. It certainly made her look younger—like ten—at least in the pubic region. Sadly, she failed to consider the side effects. The worst being red bumps and itching. Dogs with fleas didn’t scratch as much as she had been scratching down below. Lotion and body oil failed to provide relief. As long as she didn’t touch the area or rub against anything she was fine.

“Ryn.” Jackson dragged her name into two long syllables, like a jungle cat purring it.

“Mr. Knight.” She squeezed past him, making sure their bodies didn’t touch.

“Mr. Knight, huh?”

“Yes. I’m working … for you. It might be a good idea to keep things professional while I’m here.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” He towered behind her, bending down to kiss the back of her neck.

A flush of heat spread along her skin in spite of the shiver his touch evoked. “So … why is AJ selling his place?”

“Because he’s dying.”

Ryn turned toward the scratchy voice. Jillian emerged from her bedroom resembling something like roadkill.

“Welcome back, Sis.”

She brushed past him, wearing her panties and a shrunken red tank top, hair matted to her blotchy face. Although they were siblings, it was still a little awkward for Ryn.

“What do you mean he’s dying?” she asked in a small voice.

Jillian opened the refrigerator door. Jackson looked at her with a mild frown before moving his focus back to Ryn.

“He has a cancerous tumor in his brain, so he’s moving back to Portland with his parents. Treatment doesn’t look promising.”

A sting of emotion pricked the corners of her eyes. Ryn rarely saw AJ, but there was something about being in his home around his personal belongings that lent a sense of familiarity, a feeling that she knew him better than she really did.

“Jillian … I’m so sorry.” Ryn rested her hand on her chest, maybe to comfort her own heart, maybe because she felt the pain in Jillian’s.

Grabbing two things from the refrigerator Jillian placed them on the counter and stared at them: a bottle of Heineken and a juice box. Jackson opened the beer and dumped its contents down the drain. Jillian had no reaction. He inserted the bendy straw into the juice box and placed it in her hands.

“You’ve got this,” he said to her with a whisper of sympathy as he kissed the top of her head.

Ryn fell hard for Jackson, the way someone slips at the top of a steep hill and tumbles to the bottom, gaining speed and momentum the whole way down. She tried to stop it, but the force—his gravitational pull—was too strong. With each passing second her heart fell for that man … the one who loved his sister so completely.

Jillian looked at Ryn. A sad smile worked its way to her lips. “I’m going to pull it together soon, and then we’ll start planning the wedding.” She brushed past her with a zombie’s gait, straight to the bedroom and shut the door.

With wide eyes, she looked at Jackson.

“What?” He shrugged while biting back his shit-eating grin.

“You told her we’re getting married?”

“I may have mentioned it.”

“It’s a game, a-a ridiculous joke … some sort of twisted improv.” Her hands flailed in the air.

The dramatic emphasis to her point didn’t faze him. Narrowing his eyes, he rubbed his chin. “I’m sensing some sort of apprehension from you.”

“Apprehension? We’ve known each other for two seconds!”

“True.” He nodded. “But they’ve been the best two seconds of my life. I want more … more seconds with you.”

Flip flop. Head-over-heels. Tumbling down.

“I need to get to work, Mr. Knight.”

He killed her every time with his sexy grin. Backing her against the wall, he cradled her face and kissed her unconscious. Every time—a total blackout.

The white tape on the bridge of his black glasses came into focus first when she opened her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask … Why are your glasses taped together?”

He released her face, straightening to his full height. “Because Jillian busted them.”

“Why don’t you get a new pair?”

“Because Jillian would stop rolling her eyes every time she saw me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.” His gaze melted over her body. Then he traced her lips with the pad of his index finger, trailing it slowly over her chin, down her neck, making a straight line to her breast. Stopping on her nipple, he circled once, bringing it to an embarrassingly hard peak before he grinned.

Smug bastard.

“Get to work, Miss Middleton.”

With an overload of confidence, he strode away. A few seconds later she heard the back door to the garage shut. Finally, she could breathe again. His inappropriate touch matched his look. Everything about Jackson screamed inappropriate, dirty, and sinful. Two questions bubbled in her mind: why did she let him touch her like that, and why did he stop?

“I’m going to Lilith’s.”

Ryn jumped at the sound of Jillian’s voice. “Sorry, you startled me.” She hoped it would explain her red face and the light beading of sweat along her brow.

“Where’s Jackson?” Jillian asked, pulling her wet blond hair into a pony tail as she slipped on her red rain boots.