by Kata Čuić
Jason can be just as heartless as Kieran. Our argument in the car is proof. But, he’s also gone to bat for me on multiple counts, the most recent of which meant pushing me away to keep me out of harm’s reach. While Kieran has shown himself to be truly ugly on the inside, Jason constantly reveals new layers of his beauty. Like when he insisted my brothers get a good look. I cannot fathom the amount of strength and courage it took to face them, knowing what must have been going through their minds.
“Oh, no,” Dad stage whispers to Jason at his side in the doorway of the kitchen. “Run. Nothing good can be happening in here if they’re this quiet.”
Jason’s concerned gaze ping-pongs between me and my mother. “Yeah, the silent treatment is way worse than her incessant yapping. Everything okay?”
“Oh, fine, fine.” My mom doesn’t even try to hide her smile this time. “Emma was just coming to a long overdue conclusion for herself.”
I let the insinuation slide because I’m too focused on every stride Jason takes toward me until he’s peering into the empty mug I’m still holding as if I’m going to take a sip of air.
“Huh. I guess you really are tired this morning. You have to pour it before you can drink it, Doctor.” When I don’t respond or move, he waves his hand in front of my face. “Are you asleep?”
Maybe. Or maybe I’m going through the motions in the most intricate daydream I’ve ever created for myself. The one where Jason’s accusations are valid. I lied to him when I begged him not to make me fall in love with him. The truth is I’ve been waiting for this villain to turn into a white knight. I know a hero is in there somewhere, and I hoped I was the princess to set him free.
But, I can’t make him love me the way I wish for any more than I can stop the fights and reveals. I’m not a magician. If there’s one thing Kieran taught me, it’s that I can’t change other people. Time isn’t the answer for everything.
I don’t bother hiding the monotone of my voice or the sag of my shoulders. If he wants to believe it’s because I’m exhausted, then that’s his choice. If my family thinks my expression is one of embarrassment, then they don’t know me very well. “Jason, these are my parents, Tom and Ellen Hastings. The brother who thinks so highly of you is Chris, and the one who threatened you is Derek. Mom, Dad, meet Jason Gould.”
A sort of amused smirk lightens his features. As if he’s merely playing along for my benefit, he reaches out to shake Dad’s hand. “It’s an honor. You must be really proud of her.”
Mom twitters a bit then races around the island to wrap Jason in her arms. “We are. It’s so good to finally meet you.”
No one notices when I roll my eyes and turn to fill my mug. They’re too busy fawning over Jason, inviting him to stay for a cup of coffee and a quick chat before he heads home.
He takes a seat on the stool beside me as my mom fixes him a cup of his own.
“I’m sorry Emma didn’t offer. We really didn’t raise her to be so rude, even if she is tired.”
I snort into my mug. Someone here definitely needs to apologize, but it isn’t my mom or me.
“So.” Mom reclaims her chair next to Dad. “Emma tells me you’re an English Lit major, and you work at the coffee shop on campus early in the mornings. She says you’re quite the talented baker.”
A smile lights up his face. This is the information he wanted after all. “That’s right.”
Dad furrows his brow. “An English major, huh? How, exactly, do you plan to make a living for yourself with a degree like that?”
Jason doesn’t seem to notice the subtle dig. “Ideally, I’d like to go on and get my PhD and become a professor. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll pursue a master’s and get my teaching certificate for secondary education.”
“So, you want to be a teacher, no matter what level,” Mom muses. “That’s admirable. Baking is a hobby of yours, then?”
“Yes and no.” Jason tips his head from side to side, seeming to relax further into the conversation. “I hated it at first, but my mother needed the help at her shop, so I learned, anyway. It grew on me.”
“Your family has a restaurant?” Dad sounds much more excited about this than Jason’s career plans.
“My mom owns Carla’s Café.”
“Your mother is Carla Evans? How did I not know this? I go there all the time, but I’ve never seen you.” Mom shoots me an indecipherable glance.
“That’s because when I am there, I’m in the back with the ovens, not up front with the customers.” He winks. “Mom went back to her maiden name after her and my father divorced, so most people in town don’t realize the Gould kids are hers. The café keeps her so busy she doesn’t have a lot of free time to attend school events.”
“You must be the oldest child in your family, too,” Dad smiles, tactfully changing the subject. “You handled the twins with expert precision.”
True affection shows in Jason’s smile. “Yeah. My younger brother, Luke, is a senior at Sweet Valley this year. He’s eighteen. My sister, Melissa, is sixteen and a sophomore.”
Silence settles over the kitchen for a few moments as my parents seem to run out of questions to ask. My mood sinks further. He’s telling them more about his life than he’s ever shared with me.
“Well, we don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’re tired after the drive and want to get home.” Mom smiles warmly at the guy who keeps casting me sideways glances. “What time should I plan for dinner tomorrow, since you and Emma will obviously want to eat with your family, too?”
A sick sense of vindication sweeps over me as Jason chokes on his coffee.
“Actually, my mom opens the café to anyone who needs a warm meal on Thanksgiving. We serve every person who walks through the doors, so we don’t do a traditional family meal.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Mom clasps her hands together. “I only cook for the five of us, so I can spare Emma tomorrow. Take her for as long as you want.”
He doesn’t want to take me at all, as is further evidenced by his attempt at an excuse. “I don’t want to pull her away from your plans. We usually have so many volunteers, people end up standing around bored all day.”
I’ve heard enough. The legs of my stool screech against the tile as I stand abruptly. “Well, I’m gonna go unpack, then maybe take a nap and catch up on some reading for school. Let me know when you need me. For whatever.”
“I should get going, too.” Jason rises, but directs a smile toward my parents. “Thank you for the coffee. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” Dad nods at him.
Mom takes our mugs to the sink. “Yes, and please don’t hesitate to let us know if you need more help at the café tomorrow. We’ll send Emma straight over, no matter the time.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure we’ll be overstaffed.” He follows me to the front door.
I swing it open, gesturing for him to leave with my outstretched arm, unable to meet his increasingly heavy gaze.
“Now what? You’re mad because I came in and tried to make nice with your family?”
“No,” I whisper, tears getting harder to dam by the second. “I’m not mad. I have whiplash, and I’m sick of it. You don’t get to scream at me in the car, accuse me of horrible things, then waltz in here and tell my parents things you’ve never told me. You know how old my brothers are, but I didn’t even know you had siblings!”
His quiet response shocks me. “Do you want to meet them tomorrow?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” I hiss, trying not to be overheard. “You’ll do whatever you want in the moment, anyway. Why would I show up there, only for you to treat me like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe if the mood suits you? The only time you let down your guard enough to let me in is when you’re drunk.”
He blows out a harsh breath. “Fuck.”
In an instant, my face is being crushed against his chest while his arms squeeze the breath out of me. “What are you doing?” I choke out.
&nbs
p; “What I want.”
His shirt absorbs my watery laugh. “Liar. You don’t like hugging.”
“I like hugging you,” he admits, not without effort. “I want you to come tomorrow.”
“Gee, you sound so convincing.” I finally push free of his embrace. “No.”
His arms drop to his sides. “Okay.”
For someone who has no problem fighting like a wild animal when he wants to, he’s also capable of giving up too easily. Even if Rosie’s assumptions about his feelings for me are spot-on, he’ll never be over what Hayleigh did to him. Which is exactly why I can’t curl into a ball in my bed and spend the rest of the holiday weekend moping.
Revenge plots don’t enact themselves.
Truth: How we treat others is a reflection of our true selves.
The windows of my mom’s station wagon are completely fogged up. If it wasn’t before the crack of dawn, any passersby might assume there’s a heavy makeout session going on in here.
Sadly, the only thing I’m trying to make up is my mind.
Well, not so much make it up as wrap it around all this new information. I’ve been inside this quaint little café, sipping lattes a million times. Maybe Jason’s mom or sister has even served me. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never so much as seen a picture of them, let alone knew his family owns and operates this place.
I jump and scream when a knock on the driver’s side window scares me into the next century. I’d been so lost staring at my pleated fingers, I never saw someone approach. Not stupid enough to open the door to someone I can’t even see, I crack open the window.
“We’re not open yet, but if you don’t have time to come back later, I can whip you up something for breakfast. Or I can bring you coffee and a pastry out to the car. Your choice.”
I’ve never heard his voice sound so soothing. “Jason?”
He bends down, peering inside the car. “Emma? What are you doing here?”
“Figured I would work up my nerve to go in before anyone else arrived.” There’s no shame in admitting he threw me for a loop I haven’t figured out how to navigate yet.
He swings open the door, a smirk painted across his dark features. “You know damn well I’m used to waking up at four in the morning. I’ve been here prepping for hours.”
“You’re alone? Why isn’t anyone else here helping you?”
He shrugs, then glances over his shoulder at the darkened storefront. “They man the ship without me when I’m at school. I thought they could use a morning off.”
“When do you get a morning off?”
“I never get a day off from being me.”
His honest answer surprises me. There’s no way he’s drunk before seven in the morning. We remain in a silent standoff, Jason his usual brooding self; me, giving into the fantasies of a different life for him.
“Well?” His breath puffs in front of his face, obscuring him from view. “Are you coming in or going back home?”
“That depends on two things,” I hedge, trying to buy myself more time to get my shit together. “Have you already brewed a pot of coffee? I’m not going to be much help until I wake up a bit more.”
“It’s a coffee shop, Emma. There’s plenty of coffee. What’s the other thing?”
“Apologize,” I whisper just as the first rays of dawn break the horizon. Maybe that’s a cliché sign of better things to come.
Another slow rush of breath hides Jason in a cloud of steam. “I’m sorry.”
The tiniest bubble of hope threatens my demand. “You didn’t let Rosie off the hook so easily. What are you sorry for?”
He kicks some gravel beneath his feet and refuses to look at me. His words come out in a grumble. “I really am worried about her, but I had no right to take out my frustration and anxiety on you. I shouldn’t have accused you of things that aren’t true just to prove misery loves company.”
It’s not nearly what he owes me in back pay, but it’s a start. “If you want my company, all you have to do is ask. Sometimes I give it to you whether you want it or not.”
“I want it.” He raises his face to the sky. “God help me, but I want it.”
And I want to know in detail what he means by that somewhat cryptic admission, but I’m not about to press my luck. “Was that so hard? You’ve admitted before you secretly enjoy me annoying you.”
He pins me with a glare. “If I’ve admitted it, then it’s not a secret anymore, is it?” He holds out a hand to me. “Come on. I have coffee and Danishes. They’re you’re not-so-secret reasons for keeping me around.”
I pull the keys from the ignition on a sigh. “Yeah, well if you want me to have more reasons for keeping you around, then you’d actually have to give them to me.”
He hauls me out of the car with no effort at all. His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Can’t. You made me promise not to make you fall in love with me. If I unleashed all my charm, you’d never be able to resist.”
I’m not sure I’m able now. The cinnamon flavor of his lips calls to me. The few little tastes I’ve had only make my craving stronger.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he begs on a near whimper. “There’s no one around to fake it for.”
“I can’t help it. I’m starving.” Maybe if he hadn’t denied me, I wouldn’t want what I can’t have so badly.
His hand feels warm and strong when he cups my jaw. A ghost of breath dances in the space between us.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
He’s right. If we cross this line, there’s no going back. His refusals suddenly feel more protective than hurtful.
“I don’t know, but I can’t resist anymore.” He descends on me with an appetite far surpassing my own. Instead of cinnamon, the smoky flavor of rich, dark coffee fills my mouth with every stroke of his tongue. I would drink it this way for the rest of my life if I could.
His hands slide beneath my parka, spreading across my back and dragging me against him. Even with layers of clothes between us, heat spreads through my body at the feel of his hard length pressing against my stomach.
A moan slices through the freezing air. I’m not sure if it’s his or mine. I only know I’ve never in my life been kissed like this, and I never want it to end.
But, all good things must, and this kiss is no different. Jason tears his hungry mouth from mine, panting against my lips as our foreheads rest together. “Come inside and annoy me or give me the silent treatment. I don’t care which you choose, but you will actually eat one of the Danishes I made just for you today.”
“Is threatening me supposed to be charming?”
“No. I’m bossing you around, so you’ll get mad at me again. And I really need you to follow through and call me an insufferable asshole, or I won’t be able to think of anything other than tearing your clothes off for the rest of the day.”
I peek at him from beneath my eyelashes as fire sweeps across my cheeks. “Only an insufferable asshole would have a hard-on while introducing his fake girlfriend to his family.”
An impenetrable hardness passes over his face as he puts appropriate distance between us. “Thank you. I needed that reminder.”
I didn’t intend to stick my foot in my mouth that way, but it’s too late to explain myself. Jason storms across the parking lot, not even checking to see if I’ll follow. He pulls open the front door with enough force to dislodge the bell from the frame with a loud crash. Amid a string of curses, it takes him several minutes to reattach it while I watch in silence to find out if his invitation still stands.
The door closes behind him, so I turn back to my car. Sunlight floods the empty street. If dawn breaking wasn’t an omen of good things, I don’t want to imagine what this might mean.
“Now what’s your problem?” he yells across the lot.
I spin to discover him leaning against the open door. “You shut me out.”
“I was fixing the bell I almost broke. Make up your mind. I’ve gotta get back to work.”
I huff out a frustrated breath, but it does nothing to slow my still-racing heart. “Do you want me to come inside or not? Tell me the truth for once.”
“Yeah.” The quietly uttered word crosses the distance between us, trapping me in its pull. “I want you.”
Once I’m enveloped in the cozy warmth of the shop, he doesn’t attempt to close the gap between us. The seemingly ever-present whiplash between his actions and words unsettles me. I never know which version is true.
“Now what?” I hang up my coat and scarf while mentally preparing for him to berate me for asking such a stupid, mundane question even as I hope he’ll kiss me again.
Instead, he scratches the back of his neck with an obvious expression of discomfort the likes he’s never shown before. Even under my brothers’ obvious scrutiny over his appearance, he’s never seemed so unsure of himself. “Now, you drink coffee, I bake pies, and we wait for my family to arrive.”
“Do they know about me?”
“No. I wanted to keep you to myself.”
His admission should hurt, but there’s an underlying weight to his words that makes me believe Rosie more than I thought possible after everything that’s transpired.
I clear my throat, afraid any reaction from me will undo the progress he’s making at letting me in. “Okay, then how do you want to play this? We promised each other we wouldn’t fake anything unless we have to.”
He points a finger at me, seeming to regain a bit of his usual self. “Hey, don’t act like I’m the only one keeping secrets. You didn’t introduce me to your parents as your boyfriend. You didn’t even call me a friend. You just told them my name.”
That’s the whole point of not faking anything, but I can’t resist asking, “How did you want me to introduce you?”
He seems to genuinely think about it. “I’m not sure. I never expect to be introduced to anyone. People usually figure out who I am without any formality. I don’t fantasize about every aspect of my life the way you do.”
