Page 24 of Brutal for It
The hot tub steams as the sun drops low. She leans back against me, head on my shoulder, legs stretched across mine. The water makes her skin slick, glowing in the last of the light, and I can’t stop touching her—hand drifting over her thigh, arm tight around her waist, mouth brushing her temple.
“Best idea you’ve ever had,” she murmurs, eyes closed.
“Thought you might like it.”
“Like it? I’m never leaving.”
“Fine by me,” I say, pressing a kiss to her wet hair.
We sit in silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling. Just the sound of water bubbling and the forest around us, alive with crickets and night birds. My heart pounds steady, the ring box tucked away in the other room. Not yet. Not like this.
Still, I can’t stop picturing it—her hand, the shine of the stone, the way her eyes will look when she realizes what I’m asking.
Soon, I remind myself.
Dinner tonight is simple—steaks on the grill, corn on the cob, and sweet tea. We eat on the deck, laughing when the corn juice dribbles down her chin and she flips me off for staring. Afterward, we curl up in front of the fire inside, her feet in my lap, her head tilted back as she tells me some story from her cleaning jobs.
“—and the guy swore he could fix drywall,” she carries on, giggling, “but the hole looked like someone had punched through with a sledgehammer. And he didn’t even have the sheetrock tape on him. Now, I’m not a professional. I’ll leave that to you, honey. But I do believe the man was not at all qualified.”
I laugh so hard my ribs hurt. God, I love that sound. Her laughing. It’s the purest thing in the world.
Saturday is for riding.
We take the Parkway, curves sharp enough to test me, views wide enough to steal our breath. She clings tight, sometimes lifting her arms just to feel the air, and I swear my chest could burst from the peace inside me. At an overlook, we stop, stretch, and she leans against the railing, wind whipping her hair.
“Worth it?” I ask, slipping my arms around her waist.
She smiles at me, soft and certain. “Always.”
We kiss, slow and lingering, until a minivan pulls up and a kid yells, “Ew!” and we laugh our way back to the bike.
Evening settles around us, I set the stage.
Dinner’s not steak this time. It’s the fancy stuff I picked up—salmon, fresh greens, a bottle of sparkling water in a glass bottle I can’t pronounce but Jenni swore was good. With her recovery we don’t drink alcohol. Special, fancy water it is and I’m okay with it more than I ever thought I could be. Maybe being a Hellion I drank so much in my younger days, I got it all out of my system. Or the reality of it is, I will do anything for Jami including giving up drinking. I light candles on the deck, spread a blanket, and put music on low.
Jami comes out in that simple sundress she packed, the one that makes her look like summer. My heart damn near stops.
“Tommy,” she whispers, eyes shining at the sight of the table. “This is beautiful.”
“You deserve it.”
We eat, we laugh, we enjoy our time together She teases me for pouring the water like I’m some kind of professional waiter. I tease her for dropping half her salad on the blanket. Everything feels light, easy, right.
And then it’s time.
My heart hammers as I reach into my pocket. The box is small, but it feels like the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.
“Jami,” I manage to speak, voice rough. She looks up, fork paused halfway to her mouth.
“What?”
I drop to one knee.
Her eyes go wide. The fork clatters.
“Almost four years ago,” I start, throat tight, “I carried you out of hell. I thought maybe that was all I’d get—to save you once. But you, something inside me came alive. You saved me and I didn’t even know how lost I was. Every damn day since, you’ve been my reason to wake up, my reason to breathe, my reason to be better.”
Her hands fly to her mouth. Tears glisten in her eyes.
