Page 70 of Kiss Marry Kill
“No, I really don’t. You kind of want to go on a picnic? You want to hang out some more? You want to go home? What is it you kind of want to do, Meg?”
She leaned forward, her ass lifting off the chair, and she whispered into his ear. “Touch you.” She began to sit back down but then came forward again, and whispered, “your dick. I want to touch it.”
He groaned, and now it was her turn to laugh.
After a lunch that included gator bites, corn on the cob, sips of his beer—which she stole from him, often—and fried biscuits, they took off again. Thirty minutes later they stood in front of a ten-foot stuffed alligator and a wooden sign advertising airboat rides. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do this!”
“Good, because that’s what we’re doing next.”
Pulling him by the arm, she practically skipped to the kiosk, but he stopped her before she reached for her wallet.
“I can pay, you know?”
“I know. But I want to,” he said, kissing her nose. “We have twenty minutes to kill before the next boat ride, you want to go for a walk?”
“It’s one thing to be on a boat, it’s another thing to come face to face with an alligator.”
“Don’t worry so much, come on.” He grabbed her hand and together they walked along the swampy trail, where there wasn’t much to see.
“So you like baseball, huh?”
He chuckled at her random small talk. “My dad was a huge Yankees fan. For as long as I could remember, we would take one trip every year and it was to the home opening game of the Yankees. Then in 1993 when we got the Florida Marlins he got season tickets and we would try to catch at least one Yankee game a year and we never missed a Marlins opening game. He never got to see when they changed to the Miami Marlins, though.”
“So you going is tradition?”
“Yeah. It’s bittersweet, but unless I’m deployed, I try to hit at least one game. I’ve missed a few openers, though. I have season tickets, always seat L214. L214 isn’t as good in the new stadium, but it’s cool, that’s the seat I’ve had since 1993.”
“That’s really nice, Jax. Tell me more about your parents.”
They walked through the humid mangrove trail hand in hand. “My mom was a third grade teacher. She retired when my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was a tough two years and I was overseas for most of it. My parents were very close—they’d take trips away, just the two of them. They would fall asleep cuddled together on the couch. They’d hold hands all the time and kiss openly. Neither of them missed any of my baseball or football games. Not one. We weren’t wealthy, my dad was also in the Marines until he retired, then he became a postal worker. Joey was around a lot too. He was my neighbor for a little while, but we stayed close even when he moved to the other side of town.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of love in your life.”
“Yes. I can’t say otherwise. When Dad died, Mom became very depressed. With Dad gone and me far off, it’s been hard on her. She doesn’t say it, but I know it has been.”
“You feel guilty,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“I reenlisted. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe she needs me here with her.”
“It’s what you love, isn’t it? With what you’re telling me, I don’t think your parents would want you to do something you didn’t like.”
He shrugged. He’d never voiced this insecurity out loud. In fact, this guilt had been laying heavily on his shoulders and he didn’t even know how to vocalize it. But talking to Megan was easy. She wasn’t judgmental or opinionated. She listened and gave him a different—a better—perspective on things.
“Where does she live?”
“With my aunt down in Key Largo.”
“So she’s not alone.”
“Nah, she’s not. Maybe you’ll meet her?”
“Shit, Jax. It’s Saturday and we haven’t done a single thing on your list except your haircut and your mom’s an hour away.”
“Relax. We’ll get to it. There’s still Sunday.” He looked at his watch. “Come on, time to walk back. There’s an airboat with our name on it, waiting.”
* * *
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Jax sat on his kitchen counter watching Megan fuck up spaghetti later that evening.
