finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) Read online

  “You okay there, Cat?” he asks, concerned.

  I nod, and reply, “Yeah . . . Stryder’s flight just took off.” My voice cracks, and I change the subject quickly. “Jackson Reese, you are shameless, you know? That poor girl . . .”

  Jackson grins shifting his paper cup for me to see Ashley’s name and phone number written in black marker, and laughs wickedly. I shake my head in disbelief.

  “Girl, I think I just regained my mojo,” he says with a wink. “She’s cute. I think I might call her.”

  I quirk my head, and look at him inquisitively. “You’re serious,” I declare rather than ask, and when I see his eyes free of mischief, I blurt my thoughts. “What about Sam?”

  Jackson scoffs and blows raspberries. “What about Sam, Catalina? I know the score there. She’s not the type to commit, and to be honest I don’t think she ever will be. She’s not wired that way.”

  “Have you thought maybe she’s playing hard to get? Maybe she wants you to pursue her to death?”

  Jackson shakes his head, and with saddened eyes, he replies, “It’s been ten years. I know you don’t know a thing about us that’s a story for another day but the truth is it’s been ten fucking years, and I can’t sit here and grow roots waiting for her to come around. I told her that the other day. I don’t mind having sex with her, but I need more than that, you know?”

  I nod.

  “Jupiter is right. The heart needs something more than just a warm body, it needs love. Your man is wise, Catalina. Treasure that.”

  “Was Stryder always insightful as a kid?” I ask.

  Jackson rolls his eyes. “Yes . . . irritatingly so. He’s an old soul, and as much as I hate admitting it, the man is wise beyond his years. His biggest flaw, if you can call it that, is insecurity. The way he masks it is by pretending not to care, but deep down he does. My sister is the one to blame for that, but I’ve seen a change in him since you two got together. You’re giving him back what Olivia took from him. It’s nice to see, girl,” Jackson replies, and takes a sip of his drink.

  I take a moment to ponder his words, and while I don’t answer, I hold all this information to be true. One of the qualities I admire most about Stryder is his blunt honesty. He made it a point to show me the skeletons in his closet when we were first getting to know each other in Whistler.

  “What did she make you?” I whisper, quirking my head in Ashley’s direction.

  Jackson follows my gaze with a smug smile on his face. “White hot chocolate, and let me tell you, it’s promising,” he says, making me believe he’s referring to Ashley and not his drink.

  “Have you figured out what you want to do for fun while the old man is away?”

  “Dancing,” I say under my breath. I turn my head to face him, and grinning I repeat myself more assertively. “Dancing . . . I want to learn how to dance, and you’re going to teach me, Jackson Reese.”

  He leans forward to rest his cup on the table. Placing his palms on his knees, he sits forward with a look of deep contemplation. “Dancing . . . It’s been a while for me. Not to mention, my bum ankles . . .”

  “Then all the more reason to get off your ass, and put your heart into physical therapy. Think about it. I’m not a doctor but we can ask the medical team, but maybe dancing could help with strengthening your muscles, and ultimately help you get back to where you belong, which is back on the slopes. I’m not taking no for an answer, Jax. You will teach me. That’s not up for negotiation,” I challenge. “Are you in?”

  Jackson sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. Scoffing, he replies, “Like I have a motherfucking choice?”

  “Good. Now that we have an understanding, let’s call the doctors and schedule a consult. Let’s grab this bull by the horns.” Standing, I throw my empty cup into the nearest trash bin.

  Jackson rises, and looks at me with a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

  “I WAS WAITING FOR YOU to come to your senses, Jax,” Rob booms proudly, looking at my treatment plan. He rests his hands on my shoulders like my dad would, and looks at me square in the eyes.”You aren’t to blame for anything. Do you understand me? I need my boy back, and this is my last season, kid . . . Let’s make it count.”

  I nod at the silver-haired man before me. I’ve let him down many times before, mostly because of my shit attitude and behavior when I was a certified drunken asshole. Now that I’m sober I can see the pride in his eyes and the joy in his voice when he sees I’m not letting depression and fear get the best of me.

  From across the room I see Mom, Kaelan, and Cat watching me jog on the treadmill. Doctor B. walks in and smiles when he sees me breaking a sweat on the machine.

  “Well, well, Jackson. How are your ankles?” He asks, looking at my feet.

  “They’re super tender, but nothing I can’t manage, Doc,” I answer, panting.

  “Good. Remember to pace yourself. It’s not a race. A fast horse may win, but it’s a consistent gallop that makes him a winner. Does that make sense?”

  I smile at his analogy. I feel more like a mule trotting on the treadmill, but I totally get it. “Yep. Perfectly.”

  Completely exhausted, I hit the shower and get ready for my appointment with the shrink. Catalina waits for me in the vestibule of the medical center and, together, we walk towards the office down the long corridor holding hands. For the first time in weeks since the accident I’m feeling optimistic, and I make a mental note to share that during today’s session.

  “How was your week, Jackson?” Dr. Head asks, as she scribbles something in her notebook.

  As I lay on the chaise, I look up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and smile. “Good, Doc. Pretty good.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “There’s not much to say . . . My mobility has improved dramatically over the past week. The pain is no longer crippling, and I’m starting to feel like my head is finally catching up with my body.”

  Dr. Head walks over and smiles. “Tell me exactly what’s going on in your mind right now.”

  I sit up on the chaise and look into her eyes. “I’m starting to feel like myself again. One part of me feels it’s okay to move on from the avie, but the other argues it’s too soon. I will admit I feel happy to be alive which I haven’t felt since the guys passed on.”

  I think I’m getting a better grasp of reality now that I’m putting my heart into my sessions with the shrink, and to be honest having Cat mothering me around is a huge incentive. Mom has been on tour with Dad, but whenever she’s in town and hooks up with Catalina and Kaelan . . . God help me. It’s like these women gang up on me and enjoy riding my ass like there’s no tomorrow.

  As I’m leaving the medical center, I see Rob waiting for us in the vestibule. “How’d it go, son?” he asks, smiling.

  “Good! I don’t know if I’ll be ready for next season, but I sure as hell am going to try. I miss the pow, Rob, and can’t wait to get back on it.”

  Rob keeps me at arm’s length, his eyes firm and steady on mine. “You will, son. Hell, you’re a goddamn miracle. Walking away from an avie, and living to tell the tale just shows you owe it to yourself and the boys to rise up, and push yourself to give your best. I’m not saying it won’t hurt, and I will push you like never before. I expect the best from you because I know in my heart you haven’t shown me or the world what you’re truly capable of. They are waiting for you to give up, son. Show them they are wrong.”

  Rob’s words fill my chest with indescribable feelings. For one, I don’t want to disappoint him, especially when our days as a team are numbered, but I also want to let him retire with a bang. I owe it to him, and to myself to give this recovery my all. I’m cringing at the thought of pushing my body to its limits . . . I’m not one hundred percent recovered, but I can’t prove the world wrong if I don’t try.

  After I fill Rob in on the details, Catalina and I leave the medical center. Tomorrow will be my first day of phase two of rehabilitation, and I need all the rest I can
get. On the drive home I can’t stop smiling, but Catalina says nothing, which is a complete shocker since her job is to ask questions. With her hands firm on the steering wheel, she looks at the road ahead with a grin.

  The music playing on the truck’s stereo system stops as an incoming call is routed through the speakers. I look at the dashboard and see it is Jupiter calling. That’s odd. Why would he call me, and not Catalina? I ignore the call and text him instead making sure to un-pair my phone from the truck’s system.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I remind myself to check my email tonight. As we pull into the drive-around in front of the house, I notice the large maple tree in the front yard has buds on its branches a sure sign spring will be here soon. I grimace at the change of seasons; I must be the only idiot in the universe who needs snow as much as breathing.

  “Is Stryder okay?” Catalina asks, halting my thoughts. I nod, and close the passenger door. “He wanted to ask how things are and all. He said you two have a hot date in a bit . . . Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Do you guys . . . you know?” I ask, but instantly regret asking such a dumb-fuck question.

  “Do we what, Jackson?” Catalina asks with a raised eyebrow.

  I raise my hands and shake my head. “Never mind, Cat. It was a stupid question.” I unlock the front door and rub my boots against the foyer rug. “Take-out for dinner?”

  “Sure,” she chirps as she removes her coat, and hangs it on the coat rack, then races up the staircase. “I’m going to shower. You can pick dinner. I trust your judgment.”

  “Okay.”

  When I hear her door close, I walk towards my office and shut the door behind me. I look for the folder with the takeout menus and remember to check my email. As the laptop powers on, I look at the two framed pictures on my desk. One is me standing beside Rob on a slope in Sweden at twelve or so, and the other is a picture of me from the dancing days. I think I’m five or six.

  I contemplate Cat’s proposal asking myself if I truly want to dance again. It’s not like I’ve forgotten, but Jupiter is a better teacher than I am. Maybe my sister Kathryn can help? A part of me really misses dancing, but there’s a reason why I quit. I’m not sure if I’m ready to share that part of me with anyone yet, including Catalina. That fucked-up shit that happened to me as a kid is a part of my past I’ll take with me to the grave. However, Catalina is right. Teaching her to dance will benefit not only her, but me as well.

  I log into my email account and scroll down past snowboarding stuff to see Jupiter’s email. It has an odd title. Raven Girl. Hmm.

  Jax,

  Here are some pictures I want you to look at. Let me know what you think.

  -SM

  There are five attachments. When I click on the first one I blink twice. Rings, and just not ordinary ones engagement rings. Picture after picture, each one more eye-catching than the one before. I’m no expert on the subject, but it’s nice to see Jupiter following through with his feelings. Five months ago it would’ve been easier to spot a farting unicorn flying in the sky than to imagine him in love and considering marriage again . . . especially after what happened between him and my idiot sister. Shit. If Jupiter finds his happy ending, then there’s hope for the rest of us.

  I don’t wear jewelry apart from the bracelet Cat gave me, and I vow never to take that off since it’s the reason why I’m still alive. I look at all the options and decide I like number three. It’s a simple square diamond ring, and knowing Catalina I’m positive she isn’t the type of woman who’d measure love by the weight of carats on her finger. She loves with her heart, and the man she agrees to marry will be the luckiest fucker in the world. I guess you can say the little green monster in me envies their connection, but not in the way you’d think.

  My near-death experience has me reevaluating my life. My days of living selfishly and pushing the envelope with stunts aren’t over, but I definitely want to make a life for myself outside of snowboarding. I’m alive but haven’t lived, if that makes any sense. I’m not saying I’m cured from the nightmares or over the feelings of guilt that haunt me, but I have a new lease on life and I’m going to take full advantage of it.

  Jup,

  You’ve gone soft on me! Why must you burden me with this girly shit? Last I checked I have dude parts . . . Kaelan, Mom, or Lizzie would be better at this stuff than me. Pussy-whipped, much? Okay, but seriously though. I like option three, and I think she will too. I’m deleting this email before our cunning reporter comes across it and spoils your surprise. Safe travels, bro.

  Still a man last I checked,

  -Jax

  Earlier today I asked Kaelan to hire a personal chef to get my diet in order in preparation for rehab, but tonight I’m going for comfort. After pressing ‘send’ and deleting Jupiter’s e-mail, I power off the laptop and order pizza. The prospect of having pepperoni and gooey cheese in my mouth makes my inner fat kid do the Harlem Shake.

  I turn off the office light and walk towards the den, to pop in a movie. I hear Catalina’s voice coming from her room, so I raise the volume to give her privacy. I’m not really feeling the movie though. Grabbing my cell, for reasons I can’t explain to myself, I dial Sam’s number. She answers on the third ring.

  “Hey, you!” she practically sings.

  Hearing her happiness over the line makes my heart thump hard, but that’s something I’ll never willingly admit to anyone, let alone her.

  “Hi! How’s my sexy girl doing today?” I aim for playful; she despises me when I’m sappy.

  “Good, about to call it a day. Training’s a bitch. How are you Jaxy-boy?”

  “I’m good, starting phase two of rehab tomorrow. The docs think I can make a decent turn-around. I’m psyched. I miss being on the pow.”

  On the other end of the line, someone−a dude−says, ‘Come on, babe.’ It makes me want to end the call and throw my phone against the bricks of the fireplace. I know the score when it comes to Samantha. I’ve always known there’s no future there, but damn! Her carefree, no-strings attached mentality is something else. She’s the only woman I’ve ever had feelings for, and while I’ve dabbled with others, no one comes close to making me feel the way she does.

  “Jaxy-boy, I have to go. Talk to you soon?”

  “Yep,” I reply curtly, and hang up.

  Resting my cell against my chin I wonder if this is the future I want. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced I need to move on. I could have any girl I want, but right now the one girl I truly miss and want is the snow. Exhaling loudly, I press the play button, and wait patiently for the pizza to arrive. Half-way through the movie, the doorbell rings. I clap my hands in excitement, and walk towards the door.

  I swing it open, and greet the delivery girl, who is wearing glasses and a baseball cap with the logo of the pizzeria. When she looks up her eyes meet mine and widen with recognition.

  “Oh my goodness, Mr. Reese,” she mutters.

  Well I’ll be damned. It’s the girl from the coffee shop. Ashley.

  “Hi, Ashley. Stalking me much?” I quip, my arms crossed against my chest. Her cheeks turn bright red. Despite the dim lighting, I can tell she’s embarrassed. Geez. I was only joking.

  “I just . . . I have two jobs, Mr. Reese,” she stammers. “
This is my night job.”

  I’m trying to understand why someone so young would need to have two jobs. She looks well-put together . . . I’m not going to lie. I’m curious.

  “Wow, two jobs. Are you sure you’re not a spy, with the glasses and all?”

  Maybe it’s just me, but beyond the geeky facade there’s likeability about her, and the more I look, the more I enjoy what I see. I grab the pie from her hands, and place it on the console near the door. Leaning against the doorjamb, I retrieve the cash from my pocket and give it to her. She starts counting the money and tries to hand me back the tip.

  “I can’t accept this, Mr. Reese.”

  “Sure you can, and you will. Are you going to tell me about the glasses?” I encourage, winking.

  Ashley crosses her arms against her chest as if cold, appearing uncomfortable. I raise my hands in defeat and walk inside. As I’m about to close the door, she speaks.

  “I popped a contact lens at work today, and don’t have a replacement, which sucks when you have astigmatism. I have two jobs because it’s just me and my kid. She depends on me. Good evening, Mr. Reese,” she replies, before jogging towards a questionably safe heap of metal shaped like a hatchback. I own snowmobiles that look safer than her car.

  I touch my jaw to make sure it’s still there. Of all the possible answers she could’ve given me, that was the furthest from my mind. To say I’m shocked is a goddamn understatement.

  “Stop with the ‘Mr. Reese’ crap. Just call me Jax,” I call, jogging towards her. As I stand before her, I notice her lower lip is trembling, and through the brim of her ball cap and glasses I see her watery eyes. I can’t help what I do next. My large hands dwarf her dainty face as they hold her jaw and tilt it upwards so I look into her eyes. “I’m sorry for being a prick. I didn’t mean to pry.”