Page 35 of The Healing Dragon (The Red Book #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JESSE

W hen Janelle enters the suite, it’s the first time in the past few days that I’m actually working. The list of soldiers who are able to accompany us on the trip is long. I have narrowed my search to a few names. I plan on paying them each a visit tomorrow morning to deliver the news.

“Hey there,” I say, fidgeting with the papers.

She eyes me. I’m ready to rise and say anything that would prolong her from going into her room, but she joins me instead.

“You’re here early,” I say.

I wonder if it's obvious to her how hard I am trying to make conversation. Before she can say anything someone enters the suite. Alejandra opens the door and stares between us. This might be the first time I've seen her near Janelle since she arrived. That is certainly not a coincidence.

I expected an exchange of words, or perhaps some sneers, but Alejandra promptly shuts the door behind her and walks to where we are sitting.

“It's no secret that I oppose you staying in the Black Castle,” Alejandra says while crossing her arms. “But do you know why?”

I’ve dreaded even the idea of this conversation. The memory still brings me guilt. The lovely, energetic sing-song creature that would walk through the halls of this castle stopped the night of the attack.

“It’s..” I try to say but pause.

“My sister.” Alejandra says cutting me off. Her glare tells me she isn’t talking to me. “The same sister who crossed paths with your snake the night of the attack.”

Her expression is pensive. The anger and disgust she once did not bother concealing now looks soften. Not completely gone. The frown is there, but the hatred is somewhat mellow.

“Sofia loved Pad. She would’ve loved to know that he no longer lives in so much pain.” She shifts in place, looking uncomfortable. “You should try that healing gift of yours on Matias. His mental discomfort might lessen.”

That’s actually a great idea. Janelle’s expression tells me she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Goodnight,” Alejandra whispers in my direction and retreats, exiting the suite to her own room down the hallway.

I hardly have time to process what just happened when the door slams shut. Not aggressively, but in a rush.

“I think she likes him.” Janelle looks at the shut door for a second before turning in my direction. “I saw them talking in the gardens.”

“We all like Matias,” I say.

There were a few conversations we had about welcoming him and helping him acclimate to the castle. His attitude towards us has held off any plans and his current predicament isn't helping.

“You don’t like him like that.” Janelle does a thing with her brows .

“What are you suggesting?” I cross my arms. There’s a chance my question is coming off as obtuse, but it’s not on purpose.

“I should get to bed,” Janelle says and rises. “Goodnight.”

“Wait.” I call but she’s already at her door.

I run after her and slip inside before she can close it.

“Jesse.” She gasps and takes a step back.

She’s looking at me like being inside her bedroom is scandalous and forbidden. The idea is incredulous. We’ve spent endless nights side by side watching the rays of the sun creep on the skyline.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says between clenched teeth. “You need to go.” She points at the door.

Rejection hits me square in the chest. It bleeds into anger. I feel it vividly under my skin.

“What the hell are you so scared of?” I ask. “Your dad isn't here to tell you to stay away. But if that’s what you want you need to tell me.”

“Nothing good will come of you being here.” She points out to the hall again. “There we can have civilized conversations with minimal interaction. But here.” Her head drops. “Jesse, stop making this so hard.”

My anger bubbles higher with every word as the lack of a ringing in my ears tells me she truly believes this.

What I say will only matter as much as she will hear me out. If I don’t say it now, I will always wonder why I didn’t. I think of a way to lead the conversation there, but I don’t think I have time. I’m one word from being tossed out. It’s now or never

“I just want to talk.” I raise both hands in surrender.

Realistically, I can approach her any other day, but I will be gone in two days and the idea I will carry this with me for much longer is excruciating .

“Janelle.” I reach for her hand and she lets me.

Her hand is warm in mine. I don’t remember the last time I did this, but I remember how much I miss it.

“This is not how things were supposed to be between us.” I shake my head.

We have never called what we have anything other than friendship. As much as we both knew, it was so much more. We never said it. We never admitted to it out loud. Doing so now feels so fragile and raw. There’s so much I’m not ready to say, but I think I have put it away for far too long.

“The night of the attack changed it and there is no going back,” she says and her eyes don’t meet mine.

There is a truth there. The remainder of what is here cannot fit in the mold we used to have. We would have outgrown it, anyway. At one point or another this feels unavoidable.

“Perhaps not back, but forward. A new version of what we were once supposed to be.” My eyes plead, but her gaze is firmly downward.

“What do you want from me?” She fidgets with her hands.

“Everything.”

The palms of her hands bear the marks of her time in the nursery, but they’ve become significantly more capable than they were a year ago.

“I have nothing to offer. Even then, in all my riches and glory behind a golden cage, I could’ve offered you nothing, nothing but a death sentence at the very least.”

I take mock offense. “You wound me for thinking me so vulnerable to your father.” I sober my expression. “I would’ve saved you.”

If only I knew the extent.

“I’m not the damsel in distress guys like you come to save.” A tear trails down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb. “I didn’t love myself enough to stand up for me, Jesse. How could I have ever been able to love you right?”

The one tear turns into many. They trail a path down her face. I know objectively Janelle is an ugly crier, but I find her the most beautiful when she’s open and vulnerable like this.

“Is that your only objection?” I ask, my heart leaping.

“I don’t get a happy ending. Don’t you get that?” She hiccups.

“Who says that?” I search her face and this time her eyes meet mine.

She shrugs. Her expression is defeated, and I see the fight leaving her.

“Janelle,” I whisper, taking a step into her space.

“Yes,” she says, out of breath.

“Shut up.”

I seal my lips to hers and let the worries of the world fade away. This is the closest I’ve been to heaven. Who would’ve imagined I would find it strictly in the proximity of the fire spitting angel in my arms?

I pull away long enough for us to catch our breaths.

“I have always loved you, Janelle. I have loved you longer than I have done anything else in my life. My choice has always been and will always be you.”

There is no other way for me to live. Brandon was right. There are many other choices that would be easier, but they wouldn’t be her, and therefore wouldn’t be for me.

The gleam in her eyes is full of something I missed seeing. I’ve taken it for granted for years. I never noticed it until the day it was gone.

“We will talk tomorrow.” I kiss her forehead and force myself to walk out of that room.

Leaving her with her thoughts is the first step. Janelle has always been one to do better in her own thoughts.

As I lay awake in bed, I trace my lips. A smile spreads wide as the memory of my first time kissing those very lips comes back to mind. How could I ever forget? It was the first time I was kissed.

15 years ago

I watch her from a bench in the garden for about fifteen minutes before I make my way inside.

She is still wearing her flowy red gown.

Her hair is no longer in the elaborate swirl at the back of her head, but I love it this way, all over her shoulders, spilling like delicate flames showcasing under the party’s lights.

Everyone has finally gone home. The event was hosted to celebrate Mrs. Duelos’ 50th birthday. The first ball Janelle has been allowed to attend.

I saw her seconds after she entered the room. I witnessed how, for the first time, the rest of Puerto Quinn’s high society finally realized the incredible beauty Janelle Duelo is. Dangerously so.

I take a bottle of champagne I managed to steal from the back kitchen and enter the room.

She spots me as soon as I walk inside. Aside from a few staff members cleaning up for the night, we are the only two left.

Janelle doesn’t stop swirling in place. Her hair and dress swing with the motion, making her look wild and free.

Her smile is contagious and rare to see in the open.

I chuckle to myself as I catch up. “What do we have here?” I set the bottle on the floor and put my hands on my waist, watching her.

“Tonight was the best night.” She doesn’t stop dancing.

I grab onto her hand and pull her to my chest. Once together, I swirl her in place. We continue her dance across the ball room. The music is no longer playing, and the tables are now put away, but the light is low, and the energy is in the air.

She wasn’t allowed to dance much when the party was happening.

Part of me wants to ask her why, but I know her relationship with her family is complicated and completely different from mine.

The Duelo family has invisible rules they must follow without question.

Their family lives in a different town and practices a different culture. I don't understand all of it.

We hear voices approaching from the double doors. We both stop dancing, gasping for air with the adrenaline running through our veins.

“Don’t let them find us just yet.” She makes a run for the garden.

I don’t hesitate to run after her, stopping just to grab the bottle of champagne from the floor.

The garden lights are a few and far in between.

We make our way to the gazebo hidden behind a line of trees on pure muscle memory.

We can’t really see our way there and don’t use magic to illuminate the way.

Once the solid wood of the gazebo comes into view under the beams of moonlight, we burst into laughter.

We are too far from any house windows, so we don’t hold back.

We let our backs hit the ground side by side. Our hands grace each other as our breathing gets back under control. The chill of the night cools down my heated skin.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

Her question is out of left field. It makes my laughter stop for a second, and then it starts again at the absurd idea.

“I think not,” I say, out of breath. A playful tone to my words from both the acceleration of the night and the wine. “I have done my fair share of kissing, but I have never been kissed.”

Without hesitation, Janelle leans over to me and places the sweetest kiss on my lips. “You now have been kissed, Jesse Oscuro.”

My brain short circuits.

Her hand is still on my cheek but has moved her face back. I don’t know exactly what comes over me, but I close the distance between us. My fingers sink into her hair as my lips trace hers. I cup her face with my palms and marvel at how soft her skin is compared to the roughness of my hands.

Janelle Duelo is the farthest thing from soft or delicate I have ever known, yet at this moment, in my arms, she is. And what a privilege it is to be the one who witnesses it.

“Why?” I ask once we finally break away.

“I may not have control over many things in my life, but I get to control this.” Her eyes pour into mine. “I decide, and my choice is you.”