Just Joe (19 page)

Joe lifted the top off the
box and pulled out the book inside. No, not a book, he realized curiously, but
a photo album. Opening the cover, he saw the first picture and swallowed,
raised his questioning eyes to Mattie.

"I wanted to give you
something you could look at always, to remind you of this last season before
you retire. I—I thought it was probably a pretty important time to you. Is it
all right?"

"It's
wonderful," Joe told her helplessly, deeply touched by the time and
thought she had put into her present. "You took all these pictures?"

"Yes," Mattie
answered softly. "At the practices and a few of the games I attended
without telling you."

"This one—" Joe
touched the first picture reverently. "This is the first picture you took
of me, that day we met."

"Yes. Just after you
scored, before that man pushed you from behind. It came out pretty good,
huh?"

Joe's fingers brushed
against the picture softly. "Just seconds later I was lying on top of
you."

Mattie didn't know what to
say to that, so she quickly turned the page for him, showing him the next
picture and the next. "This is from the birthday party."

"I could tell by the
pointy hat," Joe remarked dryly.

"And this is when you
threw that football to the little boy in the stands."

Joe studied each picture
carefully. She had truly captured the essence of his last season in the NFL,
and he would treasure her present forever.

"There's only one
thing missing," he told her.

Mattie's eyes flew to his.
"There is? What... ?"

"You," he
answered simply. "There's no picture of you in here."

"But I'm not..."
she began protestingly, before Joe interrupted.

"Yes, you are. You're
the biggest part of this past season for me, Mattie. The best part."

Her eyes softened, and her
mouth curved. "You want a picture of.. .me?"

"Is that so
incredible? I don't have one, you know." Joe's voice was gentle.

"No one has ever
wanted a picture of me before," she explained in a muffled tone, avoiding
his eyes.

"Well, someone does
now." Joe lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "Can I
have one?"

Mattie searched his eyes,
looking for...things she didn't understand. "I'll go get my camera,"
she told him finally, a smile glowing in her eyes. "You can take a picture
of me with Rags, in front of the tree. Okay?"

"Okay," Joe
answered, returning her smile.

She was back within
seconds, tearing down the stairs with that new enthusiasm that made Joe's heart
turn over. She seemed to be meeting life head on finally, eager for what she
would find. Dear Lord, had he done that for her?

"Here," she
interrupted his thoughts, moving in close beside him to show him how the camera
operated. "This is for focus, and this is what you hit to snap the
picture. I've set it for the light. Okay?"

"Got it." Joe
promised, taking the camera from her. "Go stand by the tree."

Mattie moved across the
room, sweeping Rags into her arms along the way, and assumed her pose by the
tree.

"Should I
smile?" she asked anxiously.

"Do you feel like
smiling?" Joe returned.

Mattie thought about that
for all of a quarter of a second. "Oh, yes. I feel like smiling."

Joe caught that expression
of discovered joy with one quick click of the camera. It was a look he would
hold in his heart forever.

"Now my album is
complete," he told her, lowering the camera.

"Do I—" Mattie
broke off and studied the floor intently. "Joe, do I really mean so much
to you?"

Joe's heart twisted and he
crossed to her side, gently taking Rags from her arms and lowering him to the
floor. Taking her face gently in his hands, he drew her shadowed eyes to his.

"Mattie," he
sighed a little roughly. "Remember that first day in the park, when you
looked into my eyes?"

"Yes," she
answered hesitantly.

"What did you
see?"

"Loneliness."

"Yes," Joe said,
nodding, his thumbs caressing her skin softly. "Loneliness. What do you
see when you look into my eyes now?"

Mattie met his eyes
intently, then smiled. "I see my own reflection."

Joe's mouth lifted in a
half smile. "A reflection of you... in me," he restated quietly.

Mattie's eyes widened in
amazement. "Joe..."

"Do you know what I
see in your eyes?" he continued tenderly.

"You. You see a reflection
of yourself," Mattie answered slowly. "Why didn't I see that before?
Why did it take me so long to understand?"

Joe bent and pressed a
tender kiss on her forehead. "Because you haven't been looking at
yourself, Mattie," he told her huskily, his lips brushing her sweet skin
with each word. "You haven't been looking at me."

"But—"

"You've been looking
at what you used to be and what you wanted me to be. Not at what we are."
Each word was carefully drawn and spoken, and Joe's body tensed as he spoke them.
"Are you ready to look at yourself now, sweetheart? Are you ready to look
at me?"

Mattie pulled back to meet
his eyes warily. "What do you want from me?" she demanded in a
strained whisper. "What do you want me to see?"

"The truth,
Mattie," he told intently, his eyes fierce. "I want you to see the
truth. In me and in yourself. I want you to see the need, the love—"

Mattie flinched as if to
pull away, and Joe's hands tightened restrainingly.

"The love,
Mattie," he repeated tautly. "If you can find it in yourself, you'll
find it in me."

"How can you use that
word?" she demanded, appalled.

"Love?" Joe
questioned, his voice rough with pain. "Because that's what this is. It's
love, Mattie. And it's good."

"No," Mattie
insisted weakly. "Love is—"

"This." Joe, tired
of fighting with words, brought his lips down to gently cover hers. Back and
forth, soft and slow, he caressed her with only his lips. "And this."
Now his arms closed to bring her against him, their bodies curving together
like two halves finally united.

Mattie experienced it all
with stunned disbelief. It didn't hurt, she thought dazedly. It wasn't pain she
felt, but the most frightening little
ache,
centered somewhere that had
never ached before, in a place that had known only the touch, the violation of
Frank Bowers.

"No!" She shook
her head in wild denial. "No, I can't! Please, don't ask that of me!
Please, let me go."

Joe held her gaze for one
more tense moment, then sighed and released his hold on her.

"You never wanted to
be my friend, did you, Joe?" Mattie demanded painfully. "You always
wanted... something else."

"You're wrong,"
Joe told her steadily. "I wanted to be your friend. I just never wanted to
be
only
your friend. Do you see the difference?"

"No," Mattie
answered flatly. "I don't. And I don't want to." It was the fear that
made her say the words, but inside she felt as if a part of her were dying.

"It won't go
away," Joe said softly, holding her eyes intently. "It won't go away
just because you won't see it."

The words echoed in
Mattie's mind, rolling endlessly through her fear. She left the room without
answering, or looking back to see Joe press the heels of his hands against his
eyes, his whole body crying of defeat and fear.

She spent hours in her
room, staring bleakly at the wall as the scene played itself over and over in
her mind. The only clear thing was that she had run away from Joe again. He had
used the word love, and she had bolted. What was she going to do? She couldn't
lose Joe, not now. He was so much a part of her, so much a part of the woman
she was becoming.

A price to pay—Joe had
said there was no price to pay for friendship, but he had said nothing about
love. She couldn't love. Love was pain and degradation. How could he offer her
that and friendship in the same breath?

Unless what he called love
was really caring. Like what Cole and Jassy shared. She wanted that with Joe,
wanted the warmth and the laughter and the oneness. If that was what Joe meant
by love.

Nine

Joe was in bed, trying to
sleep when Mattie came in.

He heard the hesitant
opening of the door and the sound of her light footsteps as she crossed the
room. His breath caught somewhere deep in his chest.

Why had she come?

His hands knotted into
fists at his sides, evidence of the steely control he exerted, as he heard her,
felt
her, stop beside his bed. Should he keep pretending to be asleep?
Should he ask her what the hell she thought she was doing in his room at this
hour of the morning? Should he haul her beneath him and kiss her until she
couldn't remember why she had come to him in the first place?

That was definitely the
most appealing. Mattie, beneath him. Hungry and passionate and soft...

His body began to tense
predictably at the mental image he had conjured up, and a shudder twisted
through him.

He was about to give up
the pretense and open his eyes when he felt Mattie's hand reach out to brush a
lock of hair from his forehead.

"Joe..."

It was not the sound of
his name, but the emotion in her voice that brought his eyes open. She had
sounded—he didn't know. Sad? Peaceful? Scared?

"Mattie," Joe
reached to catch her hand in his and sat up in the bed. Moonlight streamed in
through the window and caught them both in its glow.

"Sweetheart? Is there
something wrong?" Joe's voice was full of tender concern, and his eyes
studied her face intently.

Mattie shook her head
silently, unable to speak past the wave of emotion consuming her. Yes, this was
right. How could she ever have doubted it? Joe was the only one who could give
her what she so badly needed. He had already given her more than she could ever
repay. She'd just been too scared and too blind to see it.

"Mattie... ?"
Joe's hand tightened on hers. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes." Mattie's
voice trembled. "A lifetime of nightmares. I just woke up, Joe."

Joe was confused, wary and
so hungry for her touch that he was afraid to look at her. After what had
happened earlier, he was afraid to hope.

"Mattie—"

"Joe—"

They both broke off.

"Would you like to..
.go for a walk, or something?" Joe was endearingly awkward, trying to keep
his eyes on her face and away from the short sheer cotton T-shirt she wore.

"Or something,"
Mattie agreed softly, seating herself on the bed by Joe's hips. Her hands
fluttered helplessly over his bare chest. "I need to ask a big favor of
you."

Joe's face softened.
"Anything, Mattie. You know that."

She drew a shaky breath
and closed her eyes. "I want you to... love me, Joe." Her eyes
fluttered open, suspiciously bright. "I want you to
make
love to
me."

Dead silence followed her
husky plea. Joe's hands dropped from her face. He seemed even to have stopped
breathing.

"What?" His
voice was blank, rusty. "Mattie, I thought you said—"

"I did."

"Because of what
happened earlier?" Joe's voice was harsh and cold.

"Yes," Mattie
began hesitantly, wondering how to explain.

Joe shook his head in
instinctive, violent denial, only able to fear that it would be wrong and that
he would lose everything. "No!" he forced out the word. "Oh no,
Mat-tie! I won't take your pity. I haven't sunk quite that low. Not yet."