Breakaway

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Three

The deep-throated shriek of encouragement followed by an extremely loud thud that came in the general direction of Bobby's bedroom made her shudder in dismay. Gritting her teeth, not wanting to know what the terrible twosome could be getting into, Trixie hurried over to the staircase and called up to them, hoping that she had enough authority in her voice to make them listen to her, "Keep it under control, Bobby! Moms and Dad aren't going to be happy if either you or Larry break something up there. You'll be grounded!" And their parents wouldn't be happy with her if she had to bring one or both of them to the hospital with a broken bone. She only got an incoherent yell back but, when she didn't hear another loud noise, she figured the two had ended whatever game they had been playing and left her post by the stairs. She really didn't want to know what mischief they were getting into upstairs. The possibilities were mind-boggling.

Not only was the kitchen was much quieter and immensely more peaceful, it was nowhere near the vicinity of Bobby's bedroom. Standing in the open doorway to the kitchen, she toed out of her flip-flops, unconsciously placed them off to the side where no one would trip over them as she had been taught to do when she was a toddler, and felt safe from the chaos that the two hellions could create. The sense of relief she breathed in was heavenly until she realized how silent it was in the normally bustling room, the core of the Belden household. Needing some noise, controlled noise, not the kind that was perpetuated by two almost teenagers, she flicked on the radio. The latest from Lady Antebellum poured out, making her smile. She loved the song. American Honey. The title always made her think of her best friend on the hill. It served as a nice backdrop for the tranquil room, making her feel more comfortable and less concerned about the two boys upstairs. Knowing it was time to start looking into the options for dinner, she went to the refrigerator and began pulling out the greens to make the salad. Once she had what she needed laid out on the kitchen counter, she began the soothing task of running the vegetables under the cool tap water, and started to sing along to the song, her body moving with the music.

Whistling softly under his breath, Jim made the porch steps in one eager leap, more than ready to spend the evening with his extremely special girl, and then knocked lightly on the open screen door. When he didn't receive an answer, he pushed it open and looked around the kitchen, spotting her immediately. He took a moment to admire the sight of her at the sink, grinning at the way she was singing with the music. He couldn't help but notice that she was extremely off-key, as well as pitchy. The sounds she was making could hardly be termed melodious. It was really too sweet. He knew what he felt for her had to real, for him to be able to take pleasure in the sound of her rather pitiful singing voice. American Idol wouldn't be sending her to Hollywood, he thought with a small grin twisting his lips. Tuning out her singing, he began a slow and very methodical perusal of her. He didn't miss a thing, starting at the top of her short blonde curls which were more untamed than normal, due to the extra humidity in the air, and then moving on to the tanned shoulders covered only with the pencil thin straps of her blue cotton tank top. His appreciative eyes traveled down to the hips that were moving in perfect time to the beat of the current song on the radio, noticing the way the worn denim of her shorts moved with her. He refused to feel bad about staring at that particular area for longer than was necessary. In fact, his smile only grew a little more wicked, a little more knowing, and a whole lot bigger. But then he forced himself to leave the area and skimmed his eyes down her toned legs, taking in the small birthmark on the back of her left knee that he found undeniably sexy, and finally ending at her bare feet. Swallowing back a sigh that was almost pained, he figured he was in extremely deep and well past the point of no return when even the sight of her bare and unpainted toes could affect him. The satisfied glint in his eyes told him that there wasn't any other place that he would rather be.

After another quick glance showed him that they were alone and that her young charges were nowhere in sight, he gently guided the door behind him, ever so carefully and cautiously, so as not to make the tiniest bit of noise. Holding his breath, he waited for the longest second when it closed with only the slightest click but she didn't even move, only stayed at the sink, and continued her chore of washing the vegetables. With one lip turned up, he walked stealthily towards her, bypassing a chair that someone had forgotten to push in at the table, until he was standing right behind her.

Reaching for the tomato, completely unaware of her fascinated audience behind her or the fact that she was not alone in the kitchen anymore, she hummed out the last of the song and carefully washed off the tomato. The cool water felt good, helping to alleviate some of the sweltering heat of the summer evening. She brought a wet hand up and brushed back a curl from her forehead, only to let out a tiny squeal when she felt two hands catch hold of her waist. "Jim!" she let out, knowing who it was before she even got a look at him, and amazed that she hadn't been able to hear him enter the kitchen. Turning her head to the side, she caught his amused face out of the corner of her eye and said, "I didn't hear you come in."

"But you figured out who it was quick enough," he murmured into her ear, raising her body temperature even further than the summer heat, and pulled her flush against his body, cuddling her against him. He wasn't surprised that she had realized who it was, even without seeing him. Over the years the two seemed to have developed a sixth sense for the other. "By the way, I liked the show."

She blushed, realizing he must have seen (and, worse, heard) her and dropped her head against his chest. "I, ah…oh, woe," she stammered, a bit embarrassed, and then settled for a small chuckle that made his grin grow even bigger.

He pressed a feather-light kiss to her neck and tightened his hold on her from behind, pleased that they had managed to have some alone time together. With the combined size of their friends and family, it wasn't often that they were able to pull off the remarkable and actually carve out some of the coveted private time. A small bump from upstairs made him remember that they weren't as alone as he would like them to be. When he didn't hear any more sounds from above, he increased his hold on her. "Do you need help with the salad?" he asked innocently but he didn't make a move to assist her. Instead, he blew a warm breath of air into her ear.

Feeling the familiar tingles start to pool in her stomach and then spread out in all directions to each and every extremity she possessed, Trixie figured it was a good thing when she didn't dissolve into a small, weeping puddle at his feet. "Somehow I don't think you would be that great of an asset to me right now, Mr. Frayne," she managed to get out in a dry but breathless tone.

"You could be right about that, Miss Belden," he chuckled softly and without the least bit of regret. She could always see through him while he always had a hard time getting much past her, unless she wanted him to. With a fatalistic shrug he figured that's what happened when one happened to fall in love with an extremely curious and gifted aspiring detective. Gripping her waist, he turned her around, wanting to see her from the front, and unrepentantly taking her away from her chore. He loved the way her blue eyes widened and seemed to turn darker. He heard the sharp, indrawn breath she took, almost as if she needed to get one last intake of air if she wanted to survive what he intended to do with her. And then there was the rosy flush that blossomed beautifully in each cheek. He knew she hated it; she had told him that on more than one occasion. But she had no clue of the effect it had on him, how it made her seem so much softer and even sweeter to him, or how much he loved to make her flush deepen and darken from the pretty pink to the vibrant red. Satisfied that he had her right where he wanted her, between him and the unmoving counter behind her, he brought his emerald green eyes back towards her. Due to no fault of their own, it had been too long since the last time they had been able to kiss. They each felt the excitement swirled with urgency, both in their bodies as well as in the air around them.

She watched, fascinated, as his lips came closer and closer to hers. The tomato fell from her useless hand to land on the counter the second after his mouth touched hers, gently at first and then with a slow, increasing pressure that made her want to sigh and scream at the same time. She did neither and settled for kissing him back instead, with the right amount of sweetness that counteracted his rising passion perfectly. Her hands immediately wound their way around his back, almost of their own accord, holding him to her as closely as the larger hands that were running up and down her back, and then finding refuge in the short hair that ended in a clean, crisp line above the nape of his neck. It always amazed her, the way he could make her feel. It was like he had some kind of a magic wand and could turn her into someone more than what she knew herself to be. The ache his touch created with seemingly such little effort was so incredibly pleasing and was paired with a longing she finally understood after what should have been a normally memorable night in any high school student's life had became even more poignant and unforgettable for her, as well as for him.

He didn't have any regrets about that fateful prom night over a month ago, even if did put an irreversible tear in the cloak of honorableness he had worn for much too long. The fall had been exhilarating, touching and deliciously delightful, without a hint of remorse or guilt to taint it, and bringing with it such a feeling of peace and of completeness, more so because it involved the person he intended to share the rest of his life with. Thinking about that night, as well as a few other stolen moments between then and now where even their heartbeats had managed to beat out the exact same rhythm, he deepened the kiss even further, tongue against tongue, preparing to enjoy their evening tryst for as long as they possibly could, only to be brought up short by the sound of rapid footsteps pounding down the stairs.

"Gleeps!" she exclaimed, her eyes flaring wide and her mouth falling into an oval of shock. Trixie pulled back first, her face a portrait of unresolved pleasure, before she hastily pulled herself out of his arms with an apologetic look and then turned back to the sink. Trying to get her breathing to resume to normal, she used the few seconds afforded her before they were descended upon by two-thirds of an unholy triumvirate to hastily take up her chore of making the salad and squeezed her eyes shut, doing everything she possibly could to put what had just transpired between them out of her mind.

Jim reluctantly moved away and found refuge against the kitchen counter, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her and took a series of deep breaths himself to help calm the storm that wanted to be released within his veins. He did his best to look anywhere but at her. He wasn't strong enough, was sure he would lose his control if he so much as caught a glimpse of her right now. Praying that he had succeeded in regaining a semblance of his control, he turned to face the doorway when the two boys burst through it.

Completely unaware of what they had interrupted, Bobby came to a sudden stop and gestured towards Larry, a sullen expression on his face. He looked up at the ceiling and held his hands out, unconsciously adopting his older brother's Mart pose of a few hours earlier. "See, Larry? I told you the other cop would be here by now."

Larry only shook his head in dismay and took a seat at the kitchen table. "It's hard to believe that your parents would want to have one adult and one semi-adult to watch over us."

Back to normal, Trixie whipped her head towards the young Lynch. "Semi-adult, Larry?" she questioned playfully and winked at Jim. "I assume that would be me, right?"

"No offense, Trixie," he answered quickly. "I refer to my sister as that, too."

Di had shared her brother's odd endearment for her on more than one occasion. "I won't be offended then," she informed him with a small giggle. "I take it you two are hungry and that's why you have left the confines of my youngest brother's bedroom?" When they nodded, she pointed to the refrigerator. "Moms left us cold stuff for dinner tonight. It's much too hot to cook. I'm just about finished with the salad if you're interested in having a bowl. Otherwise, you can help yourself to anything in there."

Both boys jumped at once, attacking the poor appliance with a vengeance as they foraged for their dinner, and making Trixie realize her mistake immediately. She sent Jim a withering look for chuckling at her but knew she was completely unable to correct it. She watched them under her lashes as she finished the toss salad and had to laugh at their chosen dinner of cold pasta salad, a jar of pickles, a jar of olives, and two cans of soda. It wasn't appealing to her in the least although she suspected Mart would have enjoyed the combination immensely.

"Can we eat in the den?" Bobby asked after he put the food on the table and filled two paper plates with the odd mixture. He pulled out a bag of potato chips from the cupboard and added it to the unappetizing meal. "We want to watch a movie now."

She visibly shuddered when Larry grabbed a container of spicy mustard out of the refrigerator, wondering what on earth he was going to add that to, before she answered, "Yeah, I don't see why not. But you're both going to have to clean up your mess in there. Moms doesn't expect me to pick up after you anymore, you know. You're responsible enough for that on your own. You'll have to face her wrath if the room isn't spotless when she comes home."

With twin grins, they gathered up what they believed consisted of a fantastic meal, and then were gone in a flash, leaving the kitchen in a bit of a shambles and Trixie and Jim staring after them in shock. "Are you certain you want to spend a good part of the summer with boys in that age range?" she wondered aloud, gifting her boyfriend with an inquisitive look, and began the process of putting away the leftover jars. She left the pasta salad out. It was the one thing that looked appealing. "It doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"It's at times like this when I wonder myself," he answered with his lopsided grin and grabbed two bowls for them from the cupboard.

"When do you have to head back into the City for your training?" she asked, more to make conversation than anything else, and to keep herself from doing something stupid like continuing something that they shouldn't be continuing, not with two preteens only a few rooms away. She already knew his answer, had confirmed the information to memory the second he had given it to her during the middle of his spring semester at college, but she wanted to hear it again.

"I have to see my supervisor in a week and a half," he answered with a tone of regret to his voice. Accepting the internship had seemed like a great idea at the time. Five weeks apart hadn't seemed like a big deal. Then. Now, with his departure looming ahead of them like a large gray thundercloud, he was starting to realize how big of a deal it was. He found himself caught in that difficult place between gaining valuable experience for his school and the overwhelming need to spend as much time as possible with his girlfriend. "That's in two Wednesdays. I'll be there for the rest of that week and then, on Saturday, I'll meet the boys who were accepted into the program. Then we'll travel up to that camp in upstate New York. It's going to be a lot of fun." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more; him or her.

She wasn't looking forward to it. Her small pout told him that more than any words ever could. But she absolutely refused to be one of those clinging, cloying girlfriends who wouldn't allow their significant others to participate in other things that didn't involve them. She would make it through, as would he, and they would more than make up for lost time when he was back in Sleepyside. "Then you'll come back home, right?" she asked needlessly.

"I'll be able to come home for another week before I have to do the same thing all over again," he answered quickly. "We get to take two sets of inner-city boys camping this year. My supervisor wanted to do three sets but he couldn't get the funding for the third trip." He leaned towards her and admitted huskily, "I have to admit that I wasn't upset that he wasn't able to get the third trip. When it comes to spending time with you, I'm becoming rather selfish, I'm afraid."

She understood the feeling perfectly and told him with a quick kiss on his cheek. "Don't I know it," she answered back throatily.

He felt the simple kiss all the way to his toes and wondered how the hell he was going to make it through the two camping trips without her. Clearing his throat, he added, "I'll end up being gone for five weeks in all this summer. We'll have about three weeks together after I come back. Then it will be time for our fall semester to start up."

Choosing NYU really hadn't been a hardship for her, not when he was already there. She loved the way he referred to it as 'our' fall semester. "I think I can do without you for a few weeks this summer, then. Only a few, mind you, especially since we'll have that lovely week break in-between your camping sessions, as well as those three weeks you've promised me after your last session," she said, mischievously shaking the salad tongs at him. "It also helps that we will be together for the entire school year, at the exact same school, for the first time in a really, really, long time."

His arms wound their way around her again and he gave her a hard kiss on her lips, with one sharp eye on the kitchen doorway. The den wasn't too far away, making any more passionate overtures extremely dangerous, definitely inadvisable and very foolhardy. He didn't want to give either Bobby Belden or Larry Lynch blackmail material. Looking down at Trixie, he could tell that she didn't, either. He took the salad tongs from her suddenly boneless hands and scooped out a serving of it for each of them. "My supervisor specifically asked me to be one of the counselors at the camp back in early April when the funding for two trips came through," he explained softly. "It was hard to tell him no, not when it's going to be such good experience for my school."

Carrying the plates, she led the way to the table. "Believe me, I know. I'm not complaining…much," she added with a small giggle as she poured them a glass of iced tea and then took her seat. "It'll go quickly. I've got work at the store to keep me busy, plus the rest of the Bob-Whites to hang out with. Then there's always phone calls, texts, emails, you know, that sort of stuff. It won't be hard to keep in contact…" Her voice drifted off when she got a good look at his face.

His expression told her all that she needed to know. "Ah, Trix, about that…"

Her loud groan let him know that she already realized what he was going to say. "Let me guess," she said sarcastically. "There isn't any way to communicate up there at the camp, is there?"

He smiled weakly. "My supervisor just sent that information to me, ironically enough, in an email. Looks like we'll either have to start letter-writing or start working on our telepathic abilities to keep in contact with each other during those two weeks."

She closed her eyes, put her hands on the table, and appeared to be deep in thought. He looked at her, instantly concerned, and nudged her gently. "Ah, Trixie? Are you okay? What are you doing?"

She cracked open an eye and then cracked a smile. "I'm trying to get in touch with my telepathic abilities."

He smothered a laugh, deciding there wasn't anyone out there quite like his girl. "Is it working?"

"I don't think so." She gave in with a good-natured chuckle. "Oh, well, it looks like it's going to be letter-writing for us." Shaking her head, she handed him a bottle of her mother's famous home-made salad dressing. "I guess it could be worse, huh?"

"Two weeks apart, not much contact, followed quickly by another two weeks apart, with not much contact between us." His eyes said it all, as did his look of regret. "That's pretty bad, Trix. I don't think it could get much worse than that."

She agreed. Never one to wallow in her misery, she forced a look of cheer to her face that almost touched her eyes and tapped his hand. "Well, I'm not going to dwell on it," she announced and scooted her chair a little closer to his. Then she laid a hand on his knee and declared forcefully, "We're simply going to have to make the most of the time that we do have together before you leave for the first time. Then, when you come back, we're going to have to make the most of that time, before you have to leave again. And then, when you come back home, we're going to have three glorious weeks of absolutely uninterrupted time."

"See?" he murmured back, capturing her hand with one of his and holding onto it tightly. Holding her hand was one of his favorite things to do. "We do have telepathic abilities, Trix. I was thinking the same thing."

"Maybe it will continue work when you're a hundred miles away or more," she mumbled with a small smile and leaned forward, forgetting her salad and the two other life forms in the house, her intent for a more satisfying physical closeness than mere hand holding clear and true.

"Trixie!" a familiar but unwelcome voice cut in, interrupting them for the second time that even. Eyes closed, she flopped back against her chair. When she didn't answer, Bobby yelled even louder. "Trixie! Get in here! We need your help!"

A scowl on her face, she pushed her chair back and stood up, like the martyr that she felt she was. "They're probably having trouble setting up the DVD player," she decided with a forlorn look at his lips. "I think Mart was messing around in there earlier today. He probably disconnected it or made a mess of the wires. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jim stood up with her and put his hands on the back of the counter, prepared to enjoy the view she presented on her way out of the kitchen. When her swinging hips were out of sight, he realized that his left hand was resting on an envelope. In an almost off-handed move, he brought it up and skimmed the return address. The immediate interest he felt was all-consuming. Frowning, he wondered why she hadn't brought it up yet. While his fingers itched to pull the letter out of its torn covering, he forced himself to wait until she returned to the room.

Trixie bounced back into the room a few minutes later with her trademark high level of energy. "Well, the DVD player is now successfully set up and their current favorite movie of the moment, Beetlejuice, is now playing. If I know the two of them like I think I do, they are going to watch it over and over and over again. I'm sure they're going to need a refreshment break soon, though. Can't watch a movie without popcorn, you know. Other than that, I doubt we're going to hear much more out of them tonight!" she announced gaily. She wanted the two to be as occupied as possible.

Her happy words didn't penetrate. "Ah, Trix," he began, holding the envelope aloft. "What, ah, is this?"

She paused in the act of sitting down at the table. Straightening up again, she looked at the envelope in his hand. Unbelievably, she had forgotten about it. When she recognized it, her face flared with the cursed red color. "Oh, that," she responded feebly.

He laid it back on the counter and watched her carefully, curious as to why she had flushed. "Isn't this from the scholarship committee you had told me about a while back? If I remember correctly, the committee is giving out scholarships to criminal justice majors. I didn't realize you had heard from them."

"It came today." She slowly sat back down at the table and patted his seat. When he rejoined her, she shared, "Mart got the mail this morning. He was at his usual worst. You know how he can be. Brian had to wrangle the letter out of his hand. Otherwise, I doubt if he would have ever given it to me."

He found it odd that she didn't look directly at him, noting that she seemed more content to swirl around the remnants of her half-eaten salad than to try to eat it. He jumped to the only logical conclusion possible and strongly wished that she would let him help out with the expense of her schooling. His plans for the two of them stretched out as long and as wide as the ocean itself. "You didn't get the scholarship, did you?"

She snapped her head back. She received much more than the smaller one that she had been expecting but she didn't bring it up. It wasn't a consideration, certainly didn't even exist to her anymore as even a remote possibility, and was one she wouldn't dream of accepting. Its one and only condition was deplorable. There was simply no way she would ever move to California. "Yeah, actually, I did. I got the scholarship. I have to call the committee to accept it. I'll get five hundred dollars each year I'm at NYU. It won't pay the full bill, of course, but it will certainly help out with the cost of a few textbooks."

He caught her laugh, thought it sounded a bit forced, but didn't call her on it, thinking that she was disappointed in the small amount of the scholarship. He was quiet for a moment, biting back the urge to offer to help her with the expenses, and searched for a way to make her smile. "I know places," Jim shared with her. "Secret places. I can take you to the best places to buy any supplies that you need next year."

He could take her anywhere, as far as she was concerned. Her giggle this time was much more normal, true to form and made him relax. "I'll hold you up on that offer, Jim. I'm looking forward to the fall."

Draping an arm over her shoulder, he whispered, "And I'm looking forward to next Saturday."

She pushed aside her bowl, her appetite completely gone, and leaned in closer to him, her eyes boring into him, more than eager to lay the subject of her scholarship to rest. "You haven't told me about our night yet. What are we doing on our anniversary?"

"You'll find out on Saturday night, exactly one week from today," he told her with a tone of superiority that had her fluttering her eyelashes in feigned disgust. He leaned in close, almost as if he was going to give her yet another kiss, and then brushed aside one of her curls instead, earning a small grunt of disappointment that had him chuckling deeply. "Were you able to switch your shift at the store for the night?"

She nodded her head. "Of course. I did that the second I saw the schedule that Mr. Lytell posted. Aubrey didn't mind switching with me at all, not when I offered to take all the Friday and Saturday nights when you're away as a way to make up for it. She even very nicely offered to work the weekends when you're home so that we could be together on those nights, too."

"Good." He brushed a kiss against her temple and then stood up, taking their salad bowls over to the sink to be washed. "Since you made the salad without any help from me and provided us with dinner, I'll take care of washing and drying the dishes. What do you want to do after we finish the clean-up?"

"Since Bobby and Larry have claimed the den, we're left with the living room. We can watch TV in there, if you want to." Trixie picked up the rest of the silverware, the glasses, and their utensils, and handed them over to Jim. Then she went back to wipe down the table. The kitchen would have to be left in the same shape as they had found it, which meant absolutely immaculate. After she was finished, she reached into a cabinet and pulled out the hot air popper. "For when the natives get hungry for popcorn," she explained at Jim's curious look.

He finished drying the few dishes they had used and walked over to her, unable to resist the wide, dazzling smile she gave him. Forgetting that there were two young, impressionable preteens in the house, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. His lips were more demanding than normal, slanting across her mouth in the way that she loved and with more force, almost as if he wanted to imprint on both of them that they belonged together, even with the coming separation that was hanging over them.

Trixie felt the return of the urgency that always seemed to flare between them without a moment's notice or even much effort on either's part, reveled in it, and answered it with her usual response, holding on to him and letting the passion flow over and around her until it seemed to take her over. How could she even consider taking that unexpected offer, she managed to think to herself even as she began to follow him down that new and tantalizing path he had introduced her to, when she had someone as wonderful as Jim Frayne as her boyfriend?

The sounds of preadolescent laughter floating back from the den interrupted them again, causing both to jump back and stare at each other awkwardly. "I forgot about them. Again," Trixie remarked inanely, her chest rising and falling with each breath that she took, and gave a small shake of her head.

He forced his eyes to stay on her face, to not let them look at the two tempting points residing in the vicinity below her chin. "Me, too," Jim admitted huskily. Knowing that if he touched her right then and there that he'd be looking for a place where they could get more comfortable, which wasn't appropriate at all since there were two pairs of eyes only a short hallway away, he took a healthy step backwards and ran an agitated hand through his red hair. "We should probably go out to the living room," he suggested after a moment of surprisingly comfortable silence.

Trixie nodded her head. "That's a great idea." She stopped in the doorway and then went back to the radio. She flicked it off, effectively ending the tribute to Brooks and Dunn, and cutting off the strains of the classic, That Ain't No Way To Go. Then she sent one more glance around the kitchen to make certain that it would meet her mother's specifications before her eyes landed on the envelope that was once again lying on the kitchen counter. She frowned at it and then decided that it didn't deserve another thought. Turning on her bare heels, she left the room in search of Jim.