19. Crossing Lines

CROSSING LINES

M y footsteps echoed too loud on these new floors. Two weeks since I'd been back, since Zayn had worked his magic turning this old place into something that could be home. Should be home. Would be home, once Tommy's custody hearing finally happened. But right then it was just me and too much space and memories of pancake mornings I was trying not to think about.

The coffee maker kicked on automatically - fancy thing Zayn had insisted I needed. "Every home needs rhythms," he'd said, like he knew I was drowning in this quiet. But the smell just reminded me of him.

I had been avoiding the sheriff since I got back. Not hard in theory - town was big enough if you were trying not to be found. But in practice? Every cruiser that passed made my heart kick.

My phone lit up - Tommy's morning FaceTime right on schedule. Kid had gotten religious about these calls, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he skipped one. The thought cut deep.

"Dad!" His face filled the screen, but something was off. His eyes looked tired. "You're in the new house?"

"Sure am, buddy." I flipped the camera, giving him the tour we'd practiced every morning. "Look what came today - your jersey's up on the wall."

His old racing number hung framed above what would be his bed, once this custody nightmare ended. Zayn had outdone himself with this room - built-in bookshelves for his science projects, desk positioned to catch the morning light, everything a kid could want.

"That's so cool." But his voice lacked its usual bounce. "Mom's gone again. Jessica's here."

Jessica. The new nanny. Third one this month, if I was counting right.

"Where's Mom?" Like I had to ask. Like I didn't know exactly what Vanessa's priorities looked like.

"Some brunch thing." Tommy was trying so hard to sound casual it broke my heart. "She said she'd be back for dinner but Jessica says she texted about a dinner meeting so-"

"Hey." I cut him off before that familiar defeat could settle in. "Want to see what Zayn did with the backyard? Got the treehouse plans all drawn up."

His face brightened slightly. "The one with the rope bridge?"

"And a telescope platform." I headed outside, camera steady. "See that big oak? Perfect spot for it. Just waiting on the building permit, then we can start planning how to decorate inside."

"Can I have a hammock up there?"

"Sure, buddy. Whatever you want."

"Have you seen him?" Tommy's voice went quiet. "Sheriff Jake? He probably misses us too."

"Been pretty busy with the house." The lie tasted bitter. "But hey, check this out - Zayn put in a fire pit. Perfect for s'mores once you're here."

The distraction worked, mostly. Tommy started planning elaborate camping adventures, his imagination taking off like it always did when he felt safe. But there was still that shadow behind his eyes, that careful way he measured his excitement like he was afraid to want things too much.

"Dad?" His voice caught slightly. "Two more weeks, right?"

"Two more weeks." I touched the screen like I could reach through and hold him. "Then we'll figure everything out. Promise."

"Mom says-" He stopped, picked at something off camera. "She says you're being selfish. Moving out there, making her look bad to her friends."

Red bled into my vision. Fucking Vanessa, playing mind games with our kid.

"Listen to me, buddy." My voice came out rougher than intended. "Nothing about this is selfish. I moved here because you deserve somewhere that feels like home. Somewhere you can just be yourself, no pressure, no perfect image to maintain. Just you being you."

"With you and Sheriff Jake?" The hope in his voice cracked something in my chest.

"With me." The words came out steady at least. "And whoever else becomes part of our family. But mostly? This is about you and me, buddy. Building something real."

He nodded, processing this with that serious look he got sometimes. "Two weeks?"

"Two weeks." I panned the camera around his room one more time. "And all this will be waiting. The treehouse, the beach, everything."

"Promise?"

"Knock knock."

His smile finally reached his eyes. "Who's there?"

"Promise."

"Promise who?"

"Promise you more than racing."

The doorbell caught me mid-laugh, and for a second I thought I'd imagined it. Nobody came up here except Zayn, and he was back in the city doing whatever design wizards did when they weren't transforming old houses into potential homes.

"Someone's at your door, Dad!" Tommy's excitement crackled through the phone. "Maybe it's a neighbor bringing cookies like in those movies."

"Maybe." But my heart was already racing because I knew that truck in the driveway. Knew those broad shoulders visible through my fancy new security cameras that Zayn had insisted on installing.

Jake stood on my porch looking like every small-town fantasy I'd been trying not to have. Worn jeans that fit exactly right, flannel rolled up to his elbows, dust on his boots like he'd just stepped off a ranch. His smile hit me like a physical thing - warm and steady and maybe a little uncertain.

"Sheriff Jake!" Tommy's voice split the tension before it could fully form. "Dad, turn the phone so I can see him properly!"

Jake's eyes lit up at Tommy's voice, and something in my chest cracked open. "Hey buddy. Giving your dad the grand tour?"

"He's got my jersey on the wall!" Tommy practically vibrated with excitement. "And we're building a treehouse with a telescope spot and everything!"

"That right?" Jake's eyes met mine over the phone, so much understanding in that look it made my throat tight. "Sounds pretty amazing."

I should have said something. Should have explained why I ran, why I came back, why I'd been avoiding him for weeks. But watching him make faces at my kid through FaceTime, drawing out that pure Tommy-laugh I'd missed so much, words felt impossible.

"Sheriff Jake, are you gonna help build the treehouse?" Tommy's question hit like a sucker punch. "Dad's good at racing but maybe not so much at building stuff."

"Hey now." But I was smiling despite myself, watching Jake try not to laugh.

"We'll see, buddy." Jake's voice went soft in that way that did things to my insides. "Though your dad might surprise you. Hear he's been doing pretty good with this house."

Tommy was about to respond when a voice off-screen called his name. The tutor, right on schedule because heaven forbid Vanessa let our kid have one unstructured moment.

"Gotta go." His disappointment carried clear through the screen. "But Sheriff Jake? You'll stay and make sure Dad doesn't mess up the house more?"

"Promise." Jake's answer came quick and sure, like keeping promises to my kid was the most natural thing in the world.

Once the call ended, silence settled heavy between us. Jake was still on the porch, hands in his pockets, looking at me like he was trying to figure something out.

"Want to come in?" The words came out rough. "Since you're apparently on house inspection duty now."

His laugh felt like forgiveness I wasn't sure I deserved. "Tommy's orders. Can't disobey those."

The house felt different with Jake in it. Like it had been waiting for this moment, holding its breath to see what happened when the sheriff of Oakwood Grove stepped into the space I'd been hiding in.

"You did good work." Jake moved through the living room, taking in details with that careful attention he gave everything. "Place has character now. Soul."

"Yeah. It is all Zayn. My friend from the city." My voice caught watching Jake run a hand along the kitchen island - the one I'd picked imagining morning coffees and shared silences. "He's got a gift for seeing what things could be."

Jake turned then, caught me staring. The hardness in his eyes knocked the breath from my lungs. "Things or people?"

The question hit like an accusation. "Both, maybe."

He nodded, jaw tight, continuing his slow circuit of my kitchen. Every step brought him closer, until I could smell sawdust and leather and something uniquely Jake that made my heart forget its rhythm. The silence stretched dangerous between us.

"Three weeks." His voice came low, controlled. Too controlled. "Three weeks of nothing. Not even a goddamn text."

"Been busy." The excuse tasted like ash. "House needed work and?—"

"Could've let me know." Jake's hands clenched at his sides. "Left me wondering if—" He stopped, like he was catching himself. "Hell, I didn't even have a way to reach you."

Right. We'd never exchanged numbers. That night had gone from wine under the stars to his kiss to me running before we'd even gotten to basic contact information.

"You kissed me." The words came out before I could stop them. "That night. Under the stars. You kissed me and I?—"

"And you ran." His voice carried no judgment, just a hurt that made my chest ache. "Guess I read things wrong."

"No." Moved closer before I could think better of it. "God no, Jake. You didn't read anything wrong. That kiss was..." Struggled for words that could capture how it had turned my world upside down. "It was everything I didn't know I was waiting for."

His eyes met mine, searching. "Then why?"

"Because it was too much. Too real." Ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "You took this perfectly ordered life I was trying to build here and just... shattered it with one kiss. Made me want things I never thought I could have."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with possibility. Jake moved closer, slow and deliberate like he was giving me time to back away. I held my ground.

"You know what's funny?" My voice came rough, watching him prowl my kitchen like he belonged here. "Been living in fancy hotels for years, everything perfectly planned. Then you go and kiss me under some small-town stars and suddenly nothing makes sense anymore."

Jake stopped his circuit of the kitchen, turned to face me. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "Makes perfect sense to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He moved closer, deliberate but careful, like he was giving me space to bolt again. "Been making sense since you rolled into town in that fancy car with that chip on your shoulder."

Had to laugh at that, even as my heart tried to escape my chest. "Thought you were just doing your job. Being the good sheriff."

"That what you think this is?" Something sparked in his eyes. "Just community service?"

"I don't know what this is." The honesty felt raw but necessary. "Just know I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. About you. Even in New York, everything kept coming back to?—"

"Tea?" His lips quirked, catching me off guard. "Think we both could use some."

"Right. Yeah." Grateful for the excuse to move, to breathe. "Zayn got me hooked on this fancy herbal stuff. Says it's good for stress."

Watched him settle onto my couch like he belonged there, those broad shoulders somehow making my expensive furniture look more like home than decoration.

"Here." Handed him a mug, took the chair across from him. Safer distance. "Listen, about leaving like that?—"

"Give me your phone."

"What?"

"Your phone." He set down his mug, held out his hand. "So next time you panic and run, I can at least text you to make sure you're okay."

Something in my chest cracked open at that. Not anger about me leaving, not demands for explanations. Just concern. Just care.

Handed it over without hesitation. Watched him input his number, simple and direct like everything about him.

"Jake, I?—"

"I know." He passed my phone back, our fingers brushing. Electric. "Running's easier. Trust me, I get it. Been doing my own kind of running for years."

"From what?"

His smile turned self-deprecating. "From exactly what you're running from. Things that feel too real, too right. Things that make you question everything you thought you knew about yourself."

"That kiss..." Had to swallow hard past the honesty trying to choke me. "Never felt anything like that before. With anyone. And considering I was married for eight years, that's kind of terrifying."

"Yeah?" His voice went soft, something vulnerable crossing his face.

"Yeah." Gripped my mug tighter, anchoring myself. "You turned my whole world upside down with one kiss under the stars. Made me want things I never thought I could have."

"Like what?"

Met his eyes, found courage there. "Like mornings in this kitchen. Like someone who sees past all my walls. Like... like maybe a chance to be brave enough to stay."

The silence stretched between us, but different now. Not heavy with things unsaid, but with possibility. With hope.

Jake's phone buzzed, making us both jump. He pulled it out, smiled slightly. "Now I've got your number too."

"Smooth, Sheriff."

"I try." But his eyes held mine, serious now. "No more disappearing acts?"

"No more running." Meant it with everything in me. "Though fair warning - I'm still figuring this out. All of it."

"That makes two of us." His smile went soft around the edges. "Maybe we figure it out together?"

"Together?" The word felt bigger than just one syllable. "You sure you want to take that on? A confused ex-racer and his kid?"

"Pretty sure." Jake's voice carried that steady certainty I was starting to rely on. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Besides, think Tommy's already got me wrapped around his finger."

Had to laugh at that, tension finally breaking. "Yeah, he's good at that. Gets it from his old man."

"That so?" His eyes sparked with something warm. "Seems a bit presumptuous, considering you still owe me a proper date."

My heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "That what this is? You asking me out, Sheriff?"

"Depends." He stood, moving closer with that quiet confidence that did things to my insides. "You planning to stick around this time?"

"Yeah." The truth came easy now. Set my mug down, met him halfway. "Got a house to finish. Got a kid who needs stability. Got a sheriff who apparently needs my number to keep tabs on me."

"Just your number?" His hand found mine, warm and sure.

"Play your cards right, Thompson." But I was smiling now, real and open. "Maybe you'll get the whole story eventually."

"Looking forward to it." He squeezed my hand once before letting go. "Should head back to the station. But Elliot?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you need space? Just tell me. Don't need a reason, just... let me know you're okay."

Something in my chest expanded, warm and certain. Because this man - this steady, patient man - wasn't asking me not to run. Just asking me to let him know I'd come back.

"I can do that." Walked him to the door, everything feeling more solid somehow. "Thanks, Jake. For understanding. For giving me another chance."

"Not a chance." He paused in the doorway, those brown eyes holding mine. "Just time. Time to figure out what we could be."

Watched him walk to his truck, badge catching the morning light. My phone felt heavy in my pocket, his number now a tangible connection between us. A promise, maybe. Or at least a beginning.

"Jake." His name came out rough, wanting.

He moved first this time too, just like that night under the stars. But where that kiss had been gentle, questioning, this one burned. His hands framed my face as he backed me against the doorframe, everything else falling away until there was just this - just us, finding something real in each other.

My fingers twisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. He tasted like the tea we'd barely touched, like promises we were finally brave enough to keep. When his teeth grazed my lower lip, the sound that escaped me was embarrassingly needy.

"Fuck," he breathed against my mouth, one hand sliding into my hair. "Been wanting to do that since you came back."

"Yeah?" Managed to get out between kisses that felt like drowning in the best way. "That why you've been watching my house on your patrols?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating through both of us. "Caught that, did you?"

"Small town, Sheriff." Pulled back just enough to see his face, to memorize how he looked with kiss-swollen lips and dark eyes. "Not much gets past us locals now."

"Guess I'll have to be more subtle." But his smile said he didn't mind being caught, not one bit.

This time I kissed him, pouring everything I couldn't say into it. All the fear and want and possibility. His grip tightened on my hip, and yeah, this was definitely not how the sheriff of Oakwood Grove usually conducted his morning patrols.

We made our way to the bedroom in a silence that felt sacred, heavy with words we hadn’t dared to say and feelings neither of us fully understood. The room felt smaller, warmer somehow, like it knew what was about to happen. Jake’s hand was steady in mine, thumb tracing patterns against my skin. Each touch pulled me closer, made the world fade until there was nothing but him and me, and all this damn need we’d been pretending didn’t exist.

He shut the door behind us, gaze steady and unblinking, like he was grounding himself on the moment—on me. My heart was a hammer in my chest, each beat daring me to believe this was real. And maybe he felt it too, because he gave me this soft smile that said he was just as lost, just as sure.

“Elliot…” His voice was rough, catching like he couldn’t get it all out. His hands found my face, fingers sliding into my hair, and I kissed him like I needed it to breathe. Like I’d never kissed him before, though my mouth knew his already, the taste of him, the feel of his lips soft and certain, leaving no doubt in my mind that this was right. This was home.

Clothes came off in slow, deliberate pulls, each one a choice, a promise. My shirt, then his, his hands lingering over each button as if he was learning me piece by piece, memorizing skin and bone and the way I shivered when his hand brushed my shoulder. I ran my fingers over his chest, felt the warm expanse of muscle and heartbeat beneath, grounding me. Real. Here.

We took our time, but there was a certain clumsiness to it, a trial and error as we moved together. We were both figuring it out, feeling our way through every new sensation, every moment of hesitation giving way to laughter or soft curses when hands went in the wrong place, when kisses missed their mark. But we kept at it, taking it slow, savoring every bit of skin, every touch.

And then he was beneath me, and I was filling his hands, his mouth, his world. His cock against mine, hard and sure, sending jolts of need through me until I could barely think straight. Until my entire world was narrowed down to where he touched, where he wanted me, where he needed me. I gasped as he pulled me closer, fingers tangling with mine as we found a rhythm, my mind a blur of heat and skin and the raw, heady weight of him.

“Jake…” I could barely get his name out, my body already knowing what I wanted before my mind had time to catch up. And he looked at me, eyes full of everything we’d never said.

The room felt impossibly close, holding us together in a silence so thick you could drown in it. Jake's hands lingered on my face, fingers tangling in my hair, his gaze steady and searching like he was memorizing me. I felt bare, exposed in ways that went beyond the shirt I’d just pulled off and the jeans that followed. He held my gaze, the kind of look that demanded honesty.

“God, Elliot… you don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, voice rough with all the things he couldn’t quite say. His hand traced the curve of my shoulder, down my chest, a touch that left a trail of heat everywhere it landed. His fingers paused on my ribs like he was holding himself back, and I could see the question in his eyes even before he asked it.

“You good with this?” His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes was anything but. “Because… if you need to slow down?—”

“I don’t need slow, Jake,” I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. I let out a breath that tasted like relief, like surrender. “I need you. Right here, right now.”

He nodded, something like relief passing over his face as he pressed his lips to mine, slow at first, then deeper, more insistent. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me close as our bodies met, skin to skin, the warmth of him grounding me like nothing else. I slid my fingers over his chest, down his stomach, every inch of him feeling like something I’d known forever but was discovering for the first time.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice a whisper. “Elliot… feels like I’ve wanted this forever.”

“Then show me.” My voice sounded raw, a challenge, a plea. “Show me just how much.”

We moved together in a rhythm that was both instinct and exploration, hands searching and finding, touches lingering where they could. He grinned when his hand slipped, a chuckle that melted into a groan as I kissed him deeper, our lips, our bodies fumbling in a way that only made it feel more real.

When I kissed down his neck, he let out this low noise, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. “God, Elliot…” His breath came in short, sharp gasps as my hands found their way to the edge of his boxers, fingers tracing skin that was new, unexplored territory.

“Feels good?” I asked, my voice coming out barely above a whisper. But the look in his eyes said he understood. More than that—he wanted it as much as I did.

His response was immediate, voice rough and full of need. “Better than good. You—shit—don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He reached for me, pulling me down until our bodies were flush, our breaths mingling in the space between us. “Just… don’t stop, whatever you do.”

We both laughed, the sound breaking through the tension like a spark, and I kissed him again, deeper this time, like I could pour every unsaid thing between us into that one moment. His hand trailed down, fingers brushing over my thigh, and it felt so damn natural, like we’d been doing this forever.

“Been a while since…” He trailed off, that nervous, uncertain look crossing his face as he swallowed hard, his fingers tracing a path up my spine. “Guess I’m figuring it out as I go.”

“Same,” I admitted, reaching up to touch his face, my thumb brushing over his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble under my fingers. “We don’t have to know it all right now. We just… feel it out. Take it slow.”

His hand found mine, fingers lacing between mine, and he gave me a look that felt like a promise. “Then we’ll take it slow,” he said, his voice a low, husky murmur against my skin. “But no holding back.”

“None.” I nodded, letting the weight of those words sink in, the truth behind them like a tether grounding me. “I’m here. All in.”

He grinned, that same steady, reassuring smile I’d come to rely on. “Guess we’re in this together, then.”

The way he said it felt like he meant more than just tonight. It felt like he was saying this was real—like we were building something beyond what we’d dared to imagine before. The thought hit hard, making my breath catch.

Our breaths fell into a steady rhythm, each one a promise that lingered as Jake’s hands explored me with a reverence I hadn’t expected. The weight of his fingers traced down my sides, his touch grounding me as much as it sent shivers along my skin. His eyes held mine, soft but filled with the kind of hunger that left no room for doubt. I felt myself fully laid bare, exposed in ways I hadn’t anticipated, every layer peeled back, and he looked at me like he could see every inch of me, flaws and all.

“Let me…?” His voice was barely a whisper, his gaze questioning as his hand trailed lower, settling between my legs with a gentle, careful touch. The weight of his hand against me sent a jolt of warmth through my body, leaving me half-breathless as I nodded.

“Yes,” I managed, my voice thick with anticipation. “Yeah… I want this. I want you.”

He nodded, letting out a slow exhale as his hand found my cock, fingers wrapping around me with a pressure that was both careful and possessive. He stroked me slowly, building a rhythm that left me panting, his thumb brushing over the head with a softness that felt at odds with the fire in his gaze.

“Elliot… I want you so much,” he murmured, his hand never breaking pace, each stroke leaving me more breathless, more aware of the warmth pooling between us. “Can’t believe we’re finally here.”

“Then don’t stop,” I managed, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, our mouths meeting in a kiss that was all heat, all longing. I could feel him, his hardness pressed against me, the heat between us impossible to ignore.

With a slow, deliberate motion, his hand drifted lower, tracing down the line of my hips, fingers ghosting over my skin until they found my hole, his touch careful, almost reverent as he circled the spot with a soft, teasing motion that made me shiver. He looked up, meeting my eyes as he pressed a finger inside, slow and gentle, watching my reaction with a look that told me he was as in this as I was.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down,” he said, his voice husky, but that careful edge remained, like he was still making sure I felt safe, like he was willing to stop at any second if I asked.

I shook my head, pressing my hips forward, wordlessly urging him on. “Don’t you dare. I want all of it… all of you.”

He added another finger, stretching me with a precision that only made me want him more, his fingers curling inside me in a way that left me gasping, my grip on his shoulders tightening as the heat built between us.

“Damn, Elliot… you feel so good,” he muttered, his breath hot against my neck, his body pressed tight against mine, and it felt like we were both losing ourselves, both completely wrapped up in the moment. The tension, the heat—it was almost overwhelming, and I found myself clinging to him, wanting to be as close as humanly possible.

Finally, he lined himself up, his cock pressing against me, and for a moment, he just stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine as he looked into my eyes. There was something in his gaze—a question, maybe, or a plea—and I felt my heart pound harder, feeling like everything I wanted was wrapped up in this moment.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

I nodded, swallowing hard, bracing myself as I murmured, “Yeah. Take me.”

And he did. He pushed in slowly, stretching me inch by inch, his face contorting with a mix of restraint and pleasure as he filled me, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me close until he was buried inside me. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders, the heat of him overwhelming as I felt him, fully, intimately, in a way that went beyond words.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with need as he held himself there, waiting, giving me a moment to adjust, to feel him, and the care in that gesture made me feel a surge of something deeper.

“Move,” I urged, my voice barely above a whisper, but he heard me, and his hips began to rock, slow and steady, each thrust bringing us closer, each movement igniting a fire between us that I never wanted to extinguish.

His pace picked up, his breath coming in short gasps as he thrust into me, his body in perfect rhythm with mine, and I felt myself melting into him, the pleasure building with each movement, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.

“Jake… I’m close,” I panted, my voice breaking as the pleasure grew, my entire body tingling, overwhelmed by the feeling of him, of us, together.

“Me too,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper as he drove into me faster, harder, both of us teetering on the brink until, finally, it all crashed over us in a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, leaving us gasping, clinging to each other as we came down from the high, our breaths mingling, our bodies still locked together.

We stayed there, tangled in each other, the weight of what we’d just shared settling between us, comfortable and warm, like something we didn’t need to put into words.