The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (57 page)

“Becca, don’t—”

I powered off the phone and let it fall. Grabbing my head in my hands, I sank to the floorboards and buried my face into my knees as I hugged them to my chest.

The pulsing in my head grew until the roaring was almost unbearable. Jon’s voice permeated my brain.

Come home. This is crazy. We need to talk.

Louder and louder. Over and over.
 

“Shut up,” I whispered.
 

Are you getting a divorce?
 

Pup-Pup came home.

I needed to scream. To cry. Let it out.
 

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Squeezing my eyes tight, I willed the tears to come, to offer some relief. Waves of pain crashed through my head, and the vise in my chest clamped tighter. The voices screaming in my brain reached a crescendo. And still no tears.
 

***

A loud crash from the edge of the trees startled me from my trance. I’d been staring into the field for more time than I cared to think about. I shook my head, trying to clear it and looked towards the noise. Jason was tossing logs into the bed of his truck. I hadn’t seen him drive up.
 

I watched for a moment, letting my thoughts settle and my breathing return to normal. “You’re back at it,” I called, after a minute.
 

Jason whipped around to face me, a log in his hands. “Oh, hi there,” he said. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

He smiled, which had the welcome and completely unexpected effect of distracting me from the ache in my chest.
 

“You didn’t bother me at all.” Quite the opposite, I wanted to say. He’d saved me from my thoughts, which at that moment, I didn’t want anything to do with.
 

“That’s good.” He grabbed another log from his wheelbarrow and tossed it into the truck. “I won’t be too long I just need to get enough wood to trade.” He wiped the back of his glove across his forehead. The day had heated up with the sun overhead. I could see he’d worked up a sweat. I tried not to notice the way it made his t-shirt cling to his hard body.
 

“What do you mean, trade?”

“I trade the logs with some of the locals in town. The ones who like to live off the land, and cook over an open fire use it for firewood. And yes, before you ask, they do exist. It’s hippie land, remember?”
 

“I remember.” I felt my face crack into a smile and I stood from the chair, walking closer to him. “What do they give you for it?”

“All kinds of things.” Jason returned to the logs. “The trade system is alive and well in Rainbow Valley. I get cloth for Sheena, fresh baking, meat—whatever, really. There’s not really a lot of money that changes hands here.”

“So, do you ever take a break?” I asked the question and couldn’t believe it came out of my mouth.
 

He turned to face me, a smile playing his lips. “Only if there’s a cold drink involved.”

A shiver ran through me despite the warm sun. “Absolutely,” I heard myself say.

In the kitchen I found some old lemonade powder in the cupboard and filled a jug with cold water. I mixed it up and grabbed a box of cookies I’d bought the day before. I laid it all out on a tray and made my way back to the deck.
 

Pushing open the screen door with my back, I said, “I hope lemonade is okay, I…”

The second I turned around, I wished I hadn’t. That’s a lie; I was glad I did, but I wished I’d been prepared. My fingers tightened around the edge of the tray to keep from dropping it. Jason was naked from the waist up, his wet t-shirt draped over a chair to dry. He was sitting on the deck, leaning back on his arms. I tried not to stare at his chest, which was gleaming with sweat, and was a great deal closer than it had been the day before. Something about his relaxed pose made his shirtlessness a lot more illicit than it had been at Prince’s Pond.
 

I put the tray on a table and occupied myself fussing with the glasses.
 

“It’s pretty hot,” I said. “I mean, the weather.” I could feel my cheeks burning. “It’s only May.” I spoke quickly, trying to cover my embarrassment. “And already, it seems to be heating up. It surprises me that it’s so warm in the mountains.”

“It is surprising,” Jason said. I didn’t look at him, but there was laughter in his voice; he was likely enjoying my awkwardness. “It’s actually quite unusual for it to be so hot at this time of year. But, I’ll take it. I like it hot.”

His words hung between us as I handed him a glass of lemonade.
 

“I get the feeling you don’t really want to talk about the weather, though. Am I right?” he asked.

“No, it’s fine,” I said pouring my own glass. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m really enjoying how peaceful it is here, but it’s nice to talk to someone else, too.”

“Are you lonely?”

“No, but honestly? It’s nice to have a conversation without a screaming child at my feet.” I bit down on my lip. I shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t know anything about me.

“Oh?”

“Never mind. You’re just easy to talk to and I don’t usually talk to anyone.” Heat rose up my neck and I turned before he could notice. “That sounded so stupid.”
 

“I’m always saying stupid stuff,” Jason said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
 

I smiled in response and, foregoing my rocking chair, sat on the floorboards across from him.
 

“Hey,” he said. “Before I forget, Sheena wanted to make sure you got the key.”

My thoughts flashed to the small silver key I’d put on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, I found it. Did she drop it in my bag?”

“No, I think she meant it for you.”

“For me?” I stopped and looked up. “What’s it for?”

Jason shrugged. “She didn’t say. Only that you’d figure it out.”

“Oh.” I looked out over the field. And after a moment, I asked, “So what’s your deal?”
 

He looked shocked for a second, before laughing. “Isn’t that supposed to be my question?”

“I thought Sheena told you to leave me alone?” I countered. “Besides, I wouldn’t answer anyway.”

He took a long drink. “I didn’t think you would. But it was worth a shot.”
 

“So talk—what’s your deal? Why are you the only person in this town under the age of fifty and not a hippie?”

“Well, you don’t really know I’m the only person under fifty, do you?” He raised an eyebrow. “In fact, there’s a blossoming population of us young’ uns escaping the craziness of the real world to commune with nature.”

“Is that what you’re doing, then? Escaping from the real world?”

Instead of answering me, Jason stared at me. His eyes locked on mine. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to challenge me. After all, wasn’t that what I was doing? Escaping.
 

“Okay,” I said before he could speak, “why are you the only non-hippie here?”

“What makes you think I’m not a hippie?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re right, I’m not. But I like it here.”

“Where did you live before? I mean, what brought you here?”
 

A shadow fell over his face, a storm darkening his features. “A lot of things,” he said. He tipped his head up to the sky. When he looked back down, the storm had cleared, restoring his eyes to their brilliant clarity.
 

“Why here?”

“I told you, I love it here,” he said. “Besides, Sheena needed some help.”

I ran my finger around the rim of the glass. “Is Sheena your mom?” I asked, the thought just now occurring to me.

He shook his head. “No, not really. But she took me in when I needed someone. She cares about me.”

I nodded, but he must have seen the confusion on my face, because he added, “I don’t really have any family of my own.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, only because I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He drained his glass. “So I kind of feel like I owe Sheena and she needs some help with the rental houses and the store. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
 

I leaned forward, grabbed the jug and poured him some more lemonade. “Why so many rental houses? I mean, who comes here?”

“You’re here.”

“Very funny.”

“Okay, seriously, we get a lot of artists and writers up here. I mean, look around—”

“It’s breathtaking,” I finished for him.
 

Jason nodded. “It is. And it’s quiet. Which is also why we get a lot of people who just need to get away.” He stared at me pointedly and I didn’t pretend not to notice.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He shrugged and grabbed a cookie from the tray. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

My spine stiffened; the smile melted. “You don’t know me.”
 

“Nope, you’re right. I don’t.”

I glared at him over the rim of my glass.
 

“I know you have a kid.”

“I told you as much.”

“Okay, I also know you have a wedding ring on and your husband isn’t here.”

I glared at him, trying to shut him up, but he didn’t back down.

“I know that you’re reading books about broken relationships,” he said, and nodded towards the books, still sitting next to my rocking chair. “So I know that much about you.” He didn’t break his stare. “But I also know there’s more.”

I was the first to turn away. I put my glass down and picked at the floorboard with my finger. “You don’t know,” I whispered.

“No, I don’t,” Jason said again. His voice was softer this time, the combative edge gone.

I looked up into his eyes. The challenge from a moment ago was replaced by concern and something else I couldn’t quite read.
 

“But if you want to tell me about it,” he said, “you can.”

He wasn’t supposed to ask me personal questions. I couldn’t even talk about my life with Steph, let alone with a complete stranger. Or could I? He didn’t know me, or my history. He didn’t know anything. It would be easy to tell him, might even be a relief. I blinked hard and looked down at my feet.

“I get it,” Jason said. “You don’t have to talk to me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No.” My head jerked up. “No, it’s…”

“Honestly, Becca.” He reached across the porch and took my hands. “It’s okay to talk and sometimes, it’s okay just to sit.”
 

My hand felt small in his and I could feel the calluses on his fingers. I wanted to trust him. There was something about the casual way he carried himself, his deep eyes and the way he looked at me. Even the way he touched me.
 

It felt good. Kind of safe, like I didn’t have to worry about anything. Like my troubles would go away if I left them with him.
 

We sat like that for a few minutes. It was so comfortable just to be holding his hand that it took me a moment to realize what was happening when Jason’s thumb started stroking small circles on the top of my hand. But the sparks that his touch created in me flowed through my body, reaching my core where a long forgotten heat flared up.
 

I closed my eyes because I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I wasn’t sure what was happening. But I was sure I didn’t want it to stop.

I was afraid. Afraid of breaking whatever spell bound us. Afraid that what I was letting him do—hold my hands in such a way—was wrong, a betrayal to Jon. But mostly, I was afraid that I didn’t care.
 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, causing me to open my eyes and look at him.
 

“For what?” I’d enjoyed whatever it was that had just happened. I didn’t want him to apologize for it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “For this.” His grip on my hands tightened and he pulled me towards him, releasing his hold on me only long enough to put one hand on my arm, the other behind my head. His lips were on mine before I could even process what was happening. They felt strange. Foreign. Firm, yet soft as they gave under the pressure of my own yielding lips.
 

For a moment I thought I should push him away, stop it before it began. Instead, my mouth opened to him and my body responded with the deep heat. Whatever thoughts I’d had of stopping him vanished as I gave myself to the feeling.
 

Jason’s arms embraced me, wrapping me in a cocoon. Everything else disappeared and nothing mattered as his fingers gently tangled in my hair and we sank deeper into the kiss.
 

Heat rushed from my core, through my arms and legs, all the way to my fingertips and toes. It felt good. More than good. My head spun from the strange sensation. Desire. It’d been so long, I barely remembered. But my body obviously did.
 

With a mind of their own, my hands traveled across his back. Jason responded by pulling me tighter into his body, closing the gap between us. The feel of him caused a low groan to come from deep inside. It had been so long, too long, since I’d been kissed like that by Jon.

Jon.

I tried to fight the image of my husband’s face from my mind, focusing instead on the minty taste of Jason’s mouth. I kissed him harder, trying to push the intruding thoughts out.
 

Damn it.
 

Fighting every sensation in my body that told me not to, I pushed against Jason’s chest firmly enough to create a slight distance between us. I scooted back and used my sleeve to tentatively wipe my mouth, trying to erase the taste of him, but at the same time, not sure I wanted to.
 

“Becca?”

“I’m sorry, Jason.” Not trusting myself, I dropped my gaze to the floorboards and studied the planks. The desire to reach for him was too strong. “I can’t.”
 

“No.” His voice was soft. “Like I said before, I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I couldn’t help it.” I felt his touch on the side of my face. “It was too soon.”

Something in his voice made me look up. “Too soon?”

My stomach recoiled and I yanked back from him, letting his hand drop. I jumped to my feet, and said, “What made you think I would kiss you at all?”