"It sucked," I said, dropping my head into my hands. "I was so rusty, it felt like I was trying to walk on cooked noodles."
"Well now, nothing worthwhile will come from easy work, right?"
"Says the woman who can stand on her own two feet without worrying about tipping over."
She clucked her tongue. "Don't sass me. We've all got stuff that's hard for us."
I took another small bite of the frosting left on my spoon and then brought it over to the sink so I could toss it in with the rest of the dishes she had soaking. "Want me to start on these?"
"No, no, I've more of a mess to make yet. Keep talking while I work."
I went to the opposite side of the island, locked my chair, and lifted myself into one of the stools. "My new therapist is much tougher on me."
"Good. That last one was a waste."
"Okay, Levi."
Mrs. B smiled prettily. "Maybe I did hear that a time or two from him. You need people in your life who are willing to push you, sweetie." She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow as she said it.
The unspoken layer under her words was aimed at my mom, and we both knew it.
"I fell twice," I said quietly. "I've let my right leg go too much. Both of them really. And I don't have a good excuse."
She dumped a block of cream cheese into the bowl and set it to mixing. "Falling is okay every now and then, Jocelyn."
Oh great, she used my full name.
I set my chin in my hand and sighed. "But knowing it doesn't make it any easier on your way down," I said.
"Quite true." Using a spatula, she scraped along the inside of the bowl to make sure everything mixed evenly. I love her, I thought as I watched her. I loved this whole family. And I wish I could sit like this and talk to my own mother. Tell her that it sucked to fall in front of the cute boy who bought me a cupcake.
"You got back up, though, didn't you?" she asked.
It would have been easy to focus on what I couldn't do instead of what I could. And being able to sit in this kitchen with her made me happy. Made me feel supported and loved. The least I could do was be honest with her.
"I did."
Her eyes met mine briefly, then she handed me a spoon to try the new batch of frosting. "That's my girl."
After I swallowed, giving her a hum of approval, I fiddled with the edge of the spoon. Words started crowding my mouth, and I knew I couldn't keep this from her any more than I should've kept it from Levi.
"It was just … someone I didn't really want to fall in front of." The embarrassment had my face hot and my body cold. How did people talk about this shit? I felt like I was being served up on a platter for someone to filet me open.
Her words came out slowly, carefully. "Isn't your PT the one person you'd be able to stumble in front of? That's what they're helping you with."
"I know. You're right."
"But …?"
I smiled a little. Mrs. B always saw right through me. "He's …" I paused, licking my lips and catching some frosting left in the corner of my mouth. "He's … cute. And I met him at the bakery before I knew he was my PT, and I think he was flirting with me. And I don't know exactly how I feel about that because I think I was flirting back, and I'm terrible at this." The words came out in a rush.
The look in her eyes was surprisingly sad even as she smiled at me. Her hand came up to cup the side of my face.
"Sweet girl," she said, rubbing her thumb over my cheekbone. "You couldn't be terrible at something if you tried."
My eyes pricked hot, and I blinked quickly. "I'd be terrible at running sprints."
She laughed, unsurprised by my humor after five years, then dropped her hand back to the counter. "How did he act after he saw you today?"
My teeth worried against my bottom lip. "He was shocked but professional. No flirty vibe today, that's for sure."
Mrs. B nodded. "Well, I think you should just get to know him better. If he was flirting with you at the bakery, it means he's a man of exceptional taste."
"You're only a little biased."
She was smiling as she started dropping the frosting over the top of the strawberry cake. Just as I'd taught her, she spun the turntable that held the cake in order to smooth the frosting easier. Her eyes stayed trained on what she was doing when she spoke next. "Have you talked to Levi about this?"
Her voice sounded a little strained.
I shrugged. "Not yet. It felt … I don't know … awkward to bring it up."
She swallowed. "I can understand that. One of those times when you just want a woman's opinion."
"Exactly." I exhaled. "But he's my best friend, so I should talk to him about it, shouldn't I? Maybe he could give me guy tips. Tell me if I'm crazy for thinking Girl in the Wheelchair has a shot. No offense to the general male population, but they do have a bit of a harder time overlooking allll this," I said, waving my hand in the vicinity of my chair and legs.
Mrs. B stopped spinning the cake and took a deep breath.
"What's with the sad eyes?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable for a reason I couldn't quite pinpoint. "I sure hope you're not starting to pity me after five years."
Immediately, she set down the spatula and came to stand in front of me. With both hands, she grabbed my face. Her hazel eyes, exactly like her son's, weren't sad. They were blazing.
"No one in this family pities you, Jocelyn Marie," she said fiercely. "I pity anyone who overlooks or underestimates you. Do you understand me?"
I nodded, inhaling shakily. This time, I didn't try to blink away the moisture pooling in my eyes. She wrapped me in a rib-crushing hug, and I exhaled into her embrace.
When she pulled away, her eyes were bright with tears too. "Good. Now, I need to get this cake done and hidden in the fridge before the boys come home and think they can eat it."
Laughing at the truth of that, I slid off the stool and back into my chair. "Okay. I think I'm going to lie down for a little bit. I'm tired."
She kissed the top of my head. "I'll tell Levi to be quiet when he gets back."
"Love you, Mrs. B," I told her as I pushed my chair back.
Damn it, and that gave her sad eyes again. "We love you too, honey. More than you know."
Her words settled sweet and heavy in my chest as I rolled out of the garage and over the driveway to Levi's apartment. In my head, I turned them over and over as I lifted my tired body out of my chair and up onto Levi's couch.
The air conditioning kicked on, and I reached back to grab his favorite blanket off the back of the couch. It smelled like him, like my best friend. Burrowing my nose in it, I took a deep breath and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 6
Levi
"If you think you ran that third mile faster than me, you're on drugs," I told Connor as he pulled his truck onto our street.
My brother side-eyed me. "I absolutely did."
"This is why I don't work out with you anymore. You're a pathological liar."
He was grinning. "Okay, sweet cheeks. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
My phone vibrated from the side pocket of my gym bag. I pulled it out and scrolled down until I found the email notification. "Awesome," I muttered. "Another 'your resume looks impressive, but we're looking for a candidate with more experience' reply." The third such one I'd gotten in the past three days. Tossing my phone down into the bag, I shook my head. "How the hell are you supposed to get experience if no one will give you a shot?"
Connor frowned in sympathy. "It's tough out there."
"I'm getting bored, man."
"Being J's personal chauffeur isn't cutting it for you anymore?"
The look I gave him should've shriveled up his balls, but he merely grinned back at me. "I'm spending the same amount of time with her that I do every summer."
"Mmkay."
"Shut up." I swallowed, not ready to admit out loud what I'd already started to think about in my head. "Man, what if I can't find a job around here? Green Valley doesn't hav
e anything for me, and no one in Maryville is hiring. I've submitted to every place in Knoxville that's even close to what I want to be doing."
Connor sighed. "And if you start looking much farther …"
I nodded. "I'm gonna have to move, and I don't want to leave her. I don't even care how pathetic that makes me sound; it's the truth."
"But you need a job, too. You've worked your ass off for the past six years. You can hardly blame yourself for not knowing she existed when you started school and picked your major."
"Picking my major is how I met her," I reminded him. "I never would've coached that team if I was in business school or something."
We pulled into the driveway, and there was her car, parked in front of the house like it belonged there.
"Have you called Hunter?" Connor asked, referring to our oldest brother who lived in Seattle.
I gave him a weird look. "What's he gonna do? He's like, a school administrator or something."
"Yeah, at that uppity rich people prep school, man. Maybe he's got some connections he can call." Connor pulled his truck in next to Joss's car, and he looked over at it meaningfully. "Isn't it worth it to check? Let's be real, sometimes pulling a few strings is the only way someone will finally give you a shot. Or maybe Samantha does," he said, mentioning our brother's wife with a pinched forehead.
We only looked at each other briefly before he started laughing. "Yeah, I know. We've talked to her like, twice ever. Maybe not Samantha. But it can't hurt to ask Hunter."
"I suppose."
"Ask Grady too," he said, referring to our cousin. "He's got that … whatever the hell he does."
I laughed. "Don't ask me. He loses me every time he brings it up. But it's nothing to do with sports either. Some tech thing that goes way over my head."
"Can't hurt, little brother. That's what family is for, you know." Connor slugged my shoulder as I got out of his truck, and I nodded as I got out so he could head back to his place just down the road, the house Sylvia would be moving into with him after they got married.
I glanced over at my apartment, but it looked dark, so I walked through the garage and let myself in. The kitchen was empty, as was the family room. There was no answer when I called out for my mom and Joss. Hooking my gym bag over my shoulder, I walked back to my place slowly, typing out a text to Hunter.
* * *
Me: Hey, big brother, I'm tapping out all my options here for a job, and it's not looking promising. Know anybody who might talk to an incredibly intelligent Southern boy with impeccable manners and a master’s degree in sports medicine?
* * *
I hit send just before I opened the door, and through the window next to it, I saw her asleep on the couch.
As quietly as I could, I turned the knob and walked in.
Her chest rose and fell evenly, and her face was smooth as she slept deeply. She was curled on her side, my blanket covering her up to her chin. Sitting carefully on the chaise that extended out of the other side of the couch, I set my chin in my hands and watched her sleep.
In five years, I had the thought often that my life would be easier if I didn't love her. If I could look at her and not have my chest pinch painfully from the force of my tightly bound feelings. If I could be next to her and not wonder what it would feel like to tilt her mouth up to mine and kiss her smooth pink lips. It would be so much easier if I could lay awake at night and not have to wonder if I'd live with this yearning for the rest of my life.
I'd felt wild physical attraction before her—the kind of lust that only a seventeen-year-old boy could—and I wasn't a virgin. That ship sailed a solid year before I met Joss, but it wasn't something I regret. How could I have possibly known what it would feel like the day I met her? There was no way.
In the years since, I'd dated other girls. I'd kissed them, touched them, and let them touch me—sometimes spurred on by a desperation for that same spark, that same tug in my chest that Joss pulled on every time I was around her. Yet every kiss, every touch felt wrong on a soul-deep level. Not because I believed in some unattainable chaste ideal, or that experiencing other people before we found our person was wrong, but because I'd already found her.
Whatever my own soul was comprised of, that intangible thing residing in my body that made me me met its match the day I met Jocelyn. And trying to make someone else fit was one massive exercise in frustration.
"Stupid Buchanan curse," I whispered.
There would never be a day when I didn't wish Jocelyn would just … wake up and realize it. That one day, she'd see me differently. That she could look back on the day we met and see that I'd never wavered because the way I loved her was as constant and unyielding as the Earth rotating around the sun. Something that couldn't be stopped or prevented.
In her sleep, she shifted on her back, but her long legs remained where they were.
And I watched as Joss slowly started to wake. When she opened her eyes—the morning glories climbing up the east side of my parents' porch blue—she didn't notice me right away.
"Good morning, sunshine," I said quietly.
She smiled, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied groan.
I wanted to see her do that every fucking morning for the rest of my life.
"That was an epic nap," she said in an adorably groggy voice. Her eyes fell shut again, her mouth curving up in a tiny smile.
"Yeah?"
Joss hummed, eyes still closed. "Can you move my legs for me? Stretch them out?"
I swallowed. My fingers curled into my palms. "Sure."
Even though I didn't need to move with such careful, slow movements—and even though she could, and probably should, do it herself—I slid my hands up the back of her calves until they were hooked under her bent knees. Turning her legs so that they were straight, I brought her feet up against my thigh. People underestimated how tall she was. I didn't get to stand next to her often, but when I did, it was so hard not to wrap my arms around her and see where her face hit.
"Where's Nero?" I asked, pulling my hands back once her legs were situated.
"Left him at home. Didn't want to scare off the new PT."
Grinning, I stood to grab a bottle of water out the fridge. "Need anything?"
"I'm good, thanks."
"How did it go? Was it a Denise 2.0, or did we actually manage an upgrade?"
Joss hated when I went to PT with her. Probably because with my degree, I was perfectly capable of helping her myself, but she wanted someone who wasn't so emotionally invested.
The irony of how little she knew of my emotional investment was not lost on me.
After draining half the water in two large swallows, I realized she hadn't answered me. When I turned, she was pulling herself up to sitting. I smiled at the absolute mess that was her hair. Half was still up in a bun while half fell around her face and shoulders.
"I like what you've got going on there," I said, lifting my chin at her head.
She patted her hair and groaned. As she went about fixing it, she sighed. "Yeah, figures that I look like absolute shit today."
"You don't look like shit," I said instantly. Joss raised an eyebrow at my tone but didn't comment. "Besides, since when do you care how you look at PT?"
Hair fixed and somewhat tamed, Joss looked me square in the eye, and blurted, "I'm having date feelings, and it's weird, and I don't know what to do about it."
I froze with the bottle halfway to my mouth. Where it was buried in my chest, protected by skin and muscles and bones, my heart turned over in an unhealthy, chugging motion. Biological impossibility aside, that was what it felt like.
Words sprang up on my tongue, and I breathed through them, taking my time to set down the water bottle before I joined her on the couch again.
Was this … was this it?
Her face didn't look dewy or glowy or suddenly transformed with I'm in love with my best friend feelings.
"Date feelings are good," I said carefully. Her eyes were
watching my face so intently that I felt sweat break out on the back of my neck. "I've always enjoyed them."
The second she rolled her eyes, I knew I screwed up.
"That's not what I meant," I stammered.
Joss flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. "Of course you enjoy them. All you have to do is breathe, and every single woman under the age of eighty-two in Green Valley looks at you like you just cured cancer."
I breathed out a laugh, spearing a hand through my hair. The irony, the irony, the mind-bending irony of what she just said. Yeah, except for the one single woman who I wanted to look at me like that.
I felt like Joss just tossed me ass first into a minefield. Blindfolded.
One wrong move and kablooey.
In her lap, she was wringing her fingers together, one of her nervous tells. I sighed, leaning forward to lay my hand on hers. Finally, she dropped her chin and looked at me again. She looked miserable.
Okay. Time to be what she needs, I told myself. Not time to be what I want.
I got up from the couch and went to the cupboard next to the fridge. On the middle shelf, I always kept an emergency stash of her favorite snacks. She smiled when I tossed the bag of Twizzlers onto her lap.
Once I was back on the couch, my legs stretched out next to hers so that we were facing each other, I jerked my chin. "Talk to me."
I could do this. Joss pulled out a piece of licorice and chewed on the end, those beautiful eyes unfocused.
I could do this. For her.
"I've never had date feelings before," she said. "Until this week."
"Never?" I asked carefully.
She shook her head.
"And"—I swallowed—"and you are now?"
She nodded, her eyes pinched shut now. "It's complicated, though."
"H-how so?"
Joss opened her eyes, face scrunched up in misery. "It's my new PT."
"Oh shit," I whispered unthinkingly.
She dropped her face into her hands. "I know," she wailed. "It's awful."
Was
it
Carpentry and Cocktails Page 6
