by Dee Lagasse
We continued to go back and forth until Jake brought the overflowing basket in his arms to the checkout counter.
Straight away, I noticed Louisa wasn’t ringing anything up. Jake pulled out his wallet to pay and turned to talk to Hugh about something football related. I was too busy trying not to laugh as Louisa made faces at the two of them to pay attention to the conversation taking place between the two men.
Until Louisa was about halfway through emptying the basket, and Jake realized she wasn’t ringing anything up. After he questioned her about it, a sly grin began to spread across Louisa’s face.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “If you take a picture and post where you got all this, you can have it for free. It’s a win-win.”
“I would have paid and posted a picture,” he countered, shaking his head.
“I know.” At that, she looked at me and Jake. “You know, I was starting to get a little worried we’d never see you two make your way back here.”
I knew I should respond, but the truth was, I didn’t know until Jake and I were almost here if he and I would ever make our way back to the bog—together or alone.
When Jake’s items were packed up, Louisa told us not to be strangers. Hugh rushed to the door to open it for Jake and his two armfuls’ worth of paper bags.
Once Jake’s arsenal of cranberry goodness was tucked safely into the back of his truck, he locked the doors and turned to me. “You ready?” he asked.
Who knew what we’d find down in the bog.
Maybe our tree wouldn’t be there.
Maybe it wouldn’t give me the same security it did when I was younger.
Or…maybe it would.
Maybe being here, with Jake, would fill the void that’d been in my heart since he left for college.
Was I ready for any of that? Absolutely not.
So, I lied.
“Ready if you are.”
Jake
Stepping in mud was unavoidable in the marshy wetlands behind the store. I had already accepted that my new white Nikes would wind up in the trash, but I’d forgotten just how deep the puddles could be after a few rainy days.
Looking back, then down at Isa’s feet, I laughed. I got her here and there was no way we were going back. I wasn’t about to let her ruin her shoes too, though.
“Hop on.” I patted my shoulders, fighting a smile when her eyes went wide. “There’s no reason for us to both ruin our shoes.”
“Jake.” Isa rolled her eyes. “We are twenty-four years old. You are not giving me a piggyback ride.”
“Oh, okay. I get it.” I nodded. “You either think I can’t handle it—which is just insulting—or you’re scared.”
A mischievous grin formed on her lips as she shook her head. “Same ol’ Jake. Trying to bait me into trouble.”
“Trouble?” I laughed. “Who said anything about trouble? I’m just a guy trying to help a girl get to a fallen tree.”
She tilted her head in response. The unimpressed look on her face gave me déjà vu. I’d been here. Many, many times before. I recognized her stance immediately. Isa didn’t agree with me and was about to start a fight.
“You and I together are always trouble.” Looking ahead, she sighed. “Maybe we should just go back.”
“Huh, so you are scared,” I noted. “Not of the mud, though.”
“What are we even doing here, Jake?” she asked with crossed arms. “What is all of this about?”
Fuck. Okay. I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation, but if she needed to know why I was here, what this was all about…so be it.
“All I know is it's been six years and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head,” I confessed. “I miss you, Isa. It’s as simple as that. Do I think that things are instantly going to go back to the way they were? Absolutely not. But I’d like to see if we can find out.”
“But, I—”
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” I shook my head. “We were kids. We both did some things we’d take back or change if we could. I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t either.”
As her arms fell, so did her defenses. “Is the piggyback offer still an option?”
Part of me hated that I knew her so well. Despite the time that had passed, her mannerisms were the same. Picking at her nails, the inability to look me in the eye…they were all telltale signs that she was nervous. The unlinking of her crossed arms was her version of a truce.
My stomach knotted at the hope in her eyes.
As if I could ever say no to her.
She was right. This was trouble. We were trouble.
Isa
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The ear-to-ear grin that spread across Jake’s face caused a ripple effect. First, my mouth went completely dry, and then my heart began to race.
Friends.
He wants to be friends.
You can do this, Isa.
At that, I almost laughed at myself. It was bullshit and I knew it.
The truth was, I had one regret in this life. Just one single regret. Losing Jake has caused me so many sleepless nights. I’d spent more time wishing I could change how things ended with us than I’d care to admit—even just to myself. The fact that he was here, right in front of my face, made it even harder to avoid all the things I’d been trying so hard to forget.
Somehow, I willed myself to walk over to him. When he turned his back to me, I swallowed and jumped up, securing my legs around his waist. Even with shoes on, I could feel the hardness of his abdomen underneath my heels. I’d seen enough magazine spreads to know he had a fifty-seven pack under that T-shirt.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite fifty-seven, but it was definitely more than six.
When we were kids, he worked out a lot. He was always muscular, but not like this. Not to the point that I could feel his shoulder muscles.
Shoulder. Muscles.
Who even had bulging shoulder muscles?!
Professional football players that had access to personal trainers and the best gym equipment money could buy—that was who.
“I got you, Bug.” He laughed as he hitched his arms under my thighs. “Relax.”
Why I thought he wouldn’t be able to feel my rigid body when he was quite literally carrying it was beyond me.
“Sorry.” I loosened my grip around his neck and allowed my legs to fall to Jake’s side. “I’m, uh…scared of heights?”
“Okay, if you’re going to lie,” he started, “you might want to make sure it’s not to someone who knows better.”
“It’s a new phobia?” Scrambling, I tried my best to recover.
“You’re less than six feet from the ground, Isa,” he deadpanned as he started to make his way into the marshland. “And if I remember correctly, you’re only scared of two things.”
“I’ve outgrown my fear of the dark!” I said defensively.
The childhood fear of mine followed me well into my early twenties. I forced myself to sleep in a pitch-black room and faced it head-on. Now, I couldn’t sleep if there was any light in a room.
“And thunder?” He chuckled. “Still scared of the big booms?”
“Not all of us can be fearless, Jake.” I smiled as Jake stopped in front of the fallen tree we had claimed as ours. I planted my feet onto the ground below and locked eyes with him. The only sound that surrounded us was a natural melody of chirping crickets and the croak of a lone frog.
“Is that what you think?” Jake’s voice sounded unsure as we locked eyes. “That I’m fearless?”
“I mean, I know we haven’t been in each other’s lives in a while, but, yeah,” I said. “The Jake I knew wasn’t scared of anything.”
He changed the subject as he sat down on remnants of an old pine tree. “It was crazy to bump into Salem, huh?”
For the next hour, we caught each other up on what occurred in each of our respective lives over the last six years. Neither of us brought up past relationships, which was fine by me. I did
n’t think he cared to know about the guys I dated, and I was thankful not to hear about the women lucky enough to spend time in his bed.
As the hues of oranges and pinks from the sunset began to shine through the trees, Jake stood up and extended his hand to me. “We should probably think about getting you home.”
Jake
I cursed as I reached over to turn off the alarm on my nightstand. A second string of expletives left my lips when I realized my cock was as hard as a rock. A visit from Isa in my subconscious slumber wasn’t a new occurrence. Having seen her in person provided a more vibrant vision for my mind to utilize, though.
Holding onto the image I had in my head before the droning buzz of my alarm ripped me from my dream, I began to slide my hand up and down, over my shaft. My grip tightened when I wondered if she thought of me when she pleasured herself. If she moaned while imagining my wanting mouth on her in lieu of her own delicate and talented fingers—the very ones that captured beauty in film, now capturing a sensual keepsake just for me. If her lips parted, thinking of mine worshipping her in the precise place I wanted to. The idea of tasting her and taking her over the edge pushed me right over my own.
“Fuuuuuuuck.”
I hadn’t thought of the repercussions of my climax beforehand. After taking a look around, I bent down to grab the T-shirt from last night laying on my floor. On my way to the shower, I tossed the T-shirt in the trash.
It was time to focus on the next dilemma.
What the hell is a guy supposed to wear to brunch?
Isa
I barely got any sleep and somehow still woke up feeling like Snow fucking White.
As soon as the front door was closed behind me last night, the doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Jake handed me the lemonade we never drank and the flowers I had forgotten in his truck.
“I was just about to pull out of the driveway when I realized your flowers were in the backseat. And…we never drank our lemonades.”
“Where’s yours?” I asked, looking for the second bottle.
“In the truck still.” He smiled knowingly. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bug.”
He was halfway down the front walkway when I called out, “Jake—wait!”
“Yessss?” He chuckled as he turned back around.
“Call me and let me know you made it home safe?”
And, he did.
What, in theory, should have been a quick and simple confirmation turned into a three-hour-and-seven-minute conversation.
And it probably would have lasted longer than that if I hadn’t fallen asleep.
Waking up to the annoyance of my phone being at two percent was quickly overshadowed by the “Sweet dreams, Bug” text from Jake waiting for me on my lock screen.
We so easily slid back into our former selves. The versions of Jake and Isa that never existed without each other. After spending the last six years convinced there was no way he would ever forgive me, I was still having a difficult time wrapping my head around last night.
Caffeine might help.
Quietly, I made my way up the stairs. Before I could worry about what I’d wear to brunch at Salem’s, I needed tea.
As I filled the kettle with water, I lowly sang “Addicted” by Simple Plan. Halfway through the chorus, I twirled, stopping short when I saw my brother’s fiancé standing in the doorway.
“Holy hell, Adam. You scared the crap out of me.” My heart raced as I put the kettle I almost dropped to the floor on the stovetop. “What are you doing home? Are you feeling okay?”
Normally by this time, Adam was long gone for the day. My brother required more sleep than I did, so even after the nights I worked until two in the morning, I usually had the kitchen to myself for my first cup of tea.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your jam sesh.” He shrugged, joining me in the kitchen. “Javier didn’t tell you? He’s not the only one on vacation for the rest of the week,” he hinted with a smile. “I didn’t want to miss Abuela’s birthday party.”
That would make Abuela—and my mom—so glad.
Mom spent the last year planning Abuela’s eightieth birthday. We were all hopeful Abuela was still completely oblivious to the surprise. No one had talked about it at my parents’ house. Everything was discussed via email or text. Mom was even able to keep the secret that Abuela’s sisters would be coming from Mexico for the festivities.
I knew it would mean a lot to Abuela to have Adam there too. Much like Jake had when we were younger, Adam secured his spot in our family incredibly early on. My dad even joked that if Javier and Adam ever broke up, he would exercise his parental rights to still see Adam.
“He didn’t tell me, but I know that’ll make Abuela happy. I still can’t believe we’ve managed to keep this whole thing from her for a year.”
“I know! I was sure Papa Coleman would have spilled the beans by now.” Adam chuckled again, this time as he made his way to the cabinets that held the coffee mugs. “So, how was your night? Rumor has it you left Retro with a certain wide receiver…”
“Yeah. I’m sure you and Javi had nothing to do with that setup either.” I turned, narrowing my eyes in his direction.
The smirk on his face gave him away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sis.”
“And you’re a terrible liar, bruh.”
“Okay, but, I need to know if you and Jake finally cleared the air after all those years of regret and wishing you both hadn’t fucked up?” His back was to me as he looked for his favorite coffee mug.
When he turned to face me, the old Cape Cod mug in hand, I reciprocated the knowing smile that lit up his face.
“I didn’t realize you knew so much about me and Jake’s history.” I laughed. “But, yeah. That about sums it up.”
“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve seen you drunk one time,” he said, not needing to clarify it was the night I saw a photograph posted on Jake’s Facebook of him kissing another girl. “And when we—you know, everyone but you—went down to Miami for Jake’s first game as a Dolphin, we met up with Jake and his mom for dinner one night. All he could do was talk about you. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”
Over two cups of tea (for me) and coffee (for Adam), I relayed what happened last night. Once Adam was caught up, I stood up to wash my mug out. I loved getting to spend time with Adam. We didn’t get much time together, just the two of us. However, I still needed to figure out what I was going to wear to Salem’s.
“So, what are you wearing to brunch?” Adam asked as if he were reading my mind. “You know I adore you and your style, but can I recommend shoes that aren’t Converse and maybe pants that don’t have rips all over them?”
“How about you just come down to the Bat Cave and help me pick something out?” I suggested, referring to my section of the house by the nickname he’d given it shortly after I moved in.
“I’d love to!” He smirked. “And while we decide what you’ll wear, we can go back to discussing Jake’s muscles. Don’t think I didn’t catch you stopping yourself from dishing about them.”
Jake
I hoped I would beat Isa here.
Salem still lived in the same house she grew up in—which was only two streets over from me now. I hoped I would beat Isa here…but I should have known I wouldn’t.
As I parked behind her Jeep, I took a second to brace myself. Salem had been forgiving last night, but it very well could have been a fleeting moment. She was Isa’s strongest ally. The two of them were a package deal. They always had been. Which meant that it was just as important for me to mend the bridge with Salem as it was for me to fix things with Isa.
Isa and Salem were thick as thieves growing up. While Isa and I may have considered each other best friends, I knew I was actually the runner-up in that department. Where you found one of them, the other wasn’t too far behind. They did everything together. The little interaction we had last night told me not much had changed between the
two of them over the years.
Which meant this brunch was so much more than a few old friends catching up. This was the tryout of all tryouts. Even though we all knew one another, there was no doubt in my mind that Salem O’Sullivan was trying to make sure I was still good enough for her best friend.
With that in mind, I rang the doorbell.
Don’t fuck this up, Jake.
After the longest minute of my life, the front door swung open.
After last night, there was no pretending any feelings I had for Isa were platonic.
I never stood a chance.
Something that was confirmed the second she beamed at my presence on the front porch.
Her gorgeous, dark auburn curls that were pulled up and away from her face last night, now fell down around her shoulders. The intricate Mexican candy skull tattoo on her left upper arm was now on full display. As I scanned over her body and admired how the black fabric of her bodysuit hugged her curves, I was thankful I decided to wear a white button-up shirt and black slim-fitting slacks.
Funny enough, when I looked through my closet, Isa’s father’s voice rang in my head.
“It’s always better to be overdressed than underdressed, son.”
Roger Coleman was the closest thing I ever had to a father of my own.
Stefano Moretti—the man half-responsible for my very existence—denied me until the day I made national headlines for winning the Heisman Trophy. Intuition told me to stay far away, but there were so many things I wanted answers to. So, I agreed to meet him for lunch.
The first strike was when he tried to justify his absence with the excuse that my mother tried to trap him with her pregnancy. Then, he continued to make excuses for why he didn’t show up any time after that. The only consistent thing about his bullshit was it was never his fault for being a deadbeat parent.
“Don’t forget about your old man if you get signed” was the second strike.
Those were the words he left me with before we parted ways. We hadn’t seen each other since. Before I left the restaurant parking lot, I blocked his phone number.
