Page 33 of Come Back to Me

“I’m glad you came. They’re great. We can be a lot in a big group like that, so I’m glad it wasn’t too much.” He chuckles.

“The only bad part”— I pause for effect, and he tenses —“is that you didn’t tell me it was your birthday!” I give him a playful push on his shoulder.

He runs his hand through his hair, holding onto a fistful. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come, and they rarely make such a big deal of it. I guess maybe because we turned thirty, it was a bigger thing. I hope you’re not really mad at me.”

I decide to quit messing with him. I stop, lean up and kiss him, then whisper against his lips, “It’s okay, you made it up to me last night.”

We walk further, holding hands now, and I think to ask a question I’ve been wondering. “Tell me about your birthday presents. Ben got golf things and fishing items, but you got pens and journals. His didn’t surprise me, but yours did a little. What’s that about?”

He blushes just slightly. “I enjoy fishing. Not a big golfer, though. Ben majorly loves both things. There is no sport he doesn’t like. One thing about me you don’t know yet is that I like to write. Nothing profound or anything. I’m not a poet or a serious writer or anything like that. I’ve just always found it easier to write out my thoughts and feelings than say them.”

I sense he isn’t done getting out what he needs to, so I stay quiet for a moment to give him a chance if he wants to say more.

We continue to walk holding hands, comfortable in the silence, until Jack speaks again.

“I lost a close friend to cancer in my early twenties, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was deployed when he died, and it got really dark for me for a while. My commanding officer at the time was a good man. He knew I wasn’t myself and insisted on me talking to someone. The counseling was where I learned about writing out my feelings if I couldn’t express them in other healthy ways. I credit my CO and the counselor with keeping me from going deeper into my darkness. Over the years, the writing has become a way for me to process things I’ve seen or gone through. Military things, the divorce, tough cases at work. It’s just something that’s stuck with me.”

I smile at him. “It’s sweet that your family cares enough to pick out thoughtful gifts like that. And I totally get needingan outlet for dealing with the tough stuff we see at work and in life. That’s one reason I run. It helps me let go of the hard things. When I’m upset or stressed, I feel like running faster, and feeling my feet hit the pavement helps me process and release what I need to. When my dad died, running was one of the few things that made me feel anything but grief—even if it was just exhaustion.”

“So, you don’t think I’m less manly, for it?” he asks half-jokingly, but I sense a real question in there.

I smile up at him, looking directly into those amazing eyes of his and reply, “I actually think you’re more manly for it. I think it’s sexy when a man can admit he has intense thoughts and feelings about things instead of trying to push them aside and pretend they don’t exist.”

Jack stops walking and turns to face me. He cups the side of my face in his warm, large hand and strokes my other cheek with his thumb for several long seconds. “Annie, I’ll always try my best to be open and honest with you about my thoughts and feelings, even when it isn’t easy for me to express myself. I can promise you that if I can’t find the words to say something, I’ll keep trying until I do.”

The sincerity in his words touches my heart and I reach up on my tiptoes and plant a few gentle kisses on his mouth.

We get lost in the sweetest, most delicious kisses for the next few minutes, letting our mouths communicate for us.

If kisses could talk, mine would tell him that even though I’m scared of how strongly I feel for him in the relatively short time I’ve known him, I’m so excited to see where this goes.

And maybe kisses can talk because, oddly, I feel like his are saying something very similar…

CHAPTER 16

ANNIE

I’m ripped from a peaceful sleep by the obnoxious blaring of my alarm clock at four-fifty.

Everything in me screams to reset the wake-up time and go back to sleep, but I stretch and stumble out of bed. I’m working today at seven a.m. and if I want to get a run in, I have to do it before work since it’s been too hot lately in the evening.

I go to the bathroom, then throw on my running gear and put Bean in his harness and attach his leash before we head outside. It’s a beautiful morning so far—warm but not hot, the quiet sounds of night still in the air. I throw my earphones in and start running. As I find my groove in a moderately fast pace, my mind wanders, and I think about the recent events in my life.

The three weeks since the Fourth of July have been amazing. I told Kelly about Jack when we talked on the phone yesterday but haven’t been able to bring myself to tell my mom yet. I think about the conversation with Kelly, and itmakes me laugh out loud in the middle of my sleeping neighborhood.

“Ooh a firefighter! That’s sexy. Tell me about his fire ‘hose’.”

“Jesus, Kelly, you perv. Don’t you have enough sex of your own making all those babies?”

“Ugh, fine. Then tell me the boring stuff. What kind of dates is he taking you on?” She sighs loudly.

I laugh at her. “I don’t know. We do lots of stuff. Restaurants, lots of hikes, sometimes we just hang out and watch movies orSchitt’s Creekreruns. He’s not just my boyfriend—we’re friends too.”

“Okay, now that I’ve listened to the obligatory sappy stuff, tell me about the sex.” She giggles.

“You’re insufferable,” I tease. “All I’ll say is that we have our fair share of sexy sleepovers and I have no complaints about the physical aspects of our relationship.”

“That’s really all you’ll tell me?” she whines. “Now who’s insufferable?”

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