The Keys to Jericho

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The Keys to Jericho Page 45

by Ren Alexander


  “Nowhere in particular.”

  I cock my head and smile. “That’s my favorite place.”

  Her responding smile is shaky before she grabs the front door. “I’ll meet you downstairs after I lock the door.”

  “You okay?”

  She nods and grabs her key, not saying more. Heaving a sigh, I go down to the car.

  Leaning my elbow onto the roof, I prod my fingers underneath my hat, restlessly waiting for her. I need to get a grip. She doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore, so I need to keep that in mind. Unfortunately, Kat is the only thing on my mind.

  When she finally comes around the corner of the garage, I lift my head with a smile.

  Kat comes to an abrupt stop, worriedly asking, “What?”

  Gazing at her, I casually shrug. “Nothing.” I’m just glad to be with her again, even if she looks like she wants to throw up.

  Kat walks past me to go around the car and I ask, “Where’re you going?”

  At the rear of the Nissan, Kat spins around, genuinely confused. “I… Uh… To get in the car?”

  I shake my head. “Huh-uh. Wrong side.”

  “Really? I have to start now?”

  Grinning, I nod and step closer, but keep a distance. “Oh, yeah. Right now.”

  When she approaches me, I go to move, but she goes the same way. We continue to block each other until I laugh and grab her arms. “Here. You move.” Her eyes grow wide and she darts out of my way, causing my hands to clutch air. Looking behind me, she’s already in the car, buckling her seatbelt.

  Sighing, I go to the passenger side, and getting in, I notice her staring at the wheel, but not making an effort to do much else.

  “You can start the car, you know.”

  Kat nods. “Sure. Sorry.” She starts the car, but only that.

  I deeply inhale, her perfume slamming me in the balls like a bag of bricks. “Okay… Check your mirrors and if it’s clear, put it in reverse.”

  “Sorry. Again.”

  “If you’re not focusing, we’re not doing this. You need to get your hours in, though.” And I need to make sure I focus on her face, and not her tits. Jesus.

  She tells the steering wheel, “My mom has been letting me drive with her.”

  “Kat. No.”

  “It’s getting me hours and she offered. I didn’t want to at first, but she said she needed to help me. Maybe it’s therapeutic for her. I don’t know.” She hesitantly looks at me and says, “You know you’re not going to be able to see this to the end, right?”

  “Why not?”

  “My class doesn’t begin until Monday. You’ll be gone before it ends.”

  “I’m sure Dash will take you to class, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back and take you to get your license when you’re finished. I still want to do that, and I’ll be driving with you until the very last day I’m here.”

  “Dash and Liberty said they’ll help me get my hours, too. So, I have others who can fill in when you can’t be here.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We still have time. Just focus on what we have now. The rest will fall into place.” I try to keep a smile, but saying that, hits me hard.

  Her eyes slightly glisten. “I hope so.”

  “How can you doubt me, Kit Kat?” Her gaze falls to the console and I want to lift her chin, but if I do, I’ll kiss her. “If you don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to drive today.”

  “I’ll drive today, but maybe later.”

  “Okay. What do you want to do then?” That’s a goddamned loaded question that I just aimed at my own fucking head.

  She looks up, but only to the dashboard. “We can just go to my mom’s house.” Oh. Well, damn.

  “We can go to the park and walk around. Paddleboats, maybe?” I am a fucking masochist.

  Kat immediately shakes her head. “No. Um, thank you anyway.”

  “Kat, really. What’s going on? You weren’t sick, were you?”

  She shifts her gaze to mine and says, “I was. Honestly. I’m still not great.”

  “Baby, I don’t…” Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Kat looks away from me, biting her lip, and I sit back, closing my eyes. Damn it.

  Mindlessly gazing at the windshield, I sigh, pushing up on my hat, and clearing my throat. “I just hope you’re telling me the truth, Kat.”

  She mumbles to the dashboard, “Jared, I am.”

  Not believing her, I grab the door handle and mutter, “Yeah.”

  I get out of the car and when I come back to the driver’s side, she’s standing there, but doesn’t move. Since there is a short brick wall lining the driveway, limiting the space where I can stand, I’m close to her, which seems to make her uncomfortable. Feeling rather awkward, I ask, “What’s wrong, Kat? Come on. I need you to tell me.”

  If she could meld into the car, she would. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just still tired from being sick.”

  Skeptical if she’s being honest with me, I undecidedly laugh. “Is it something I’ll catch?”

  Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, she actually looks me in the eyes and frowns. “I doubt it.”

  “Why? What was it?”

  She limply shrugs as her pointed gaze dips to my chest. “You didn’t get sick, so I guess you’re immune.”

  Impulsively, I put my hands on her cheeks and tilt her head so she’ll look at me, noticing her dark circles and slightly blood-shot eyes, which widen and dart away from mine. “I was worried about you, Kit Kat. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  She puts her hands on my wrists, drags them from her face, and sharply says, “At least you are doing fine. I’ve been awake for days.”

  I angle my head to look at her face. “Me, too.”

  “You’re not sick, Jared.”

  “So you think.”

  “I really have been sick.”

  “I think it’s an act.”

  Dropping her head, she gasps, like she’s in pain, and as she starts to move, I put my hand on the roof, blocking her. “Where are you going now?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This twisted dance we’re doing around what happened between us.”

  “I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. No regrets. Remember?”

  “I’m trying to forget, but it’s impossible, and the more I try, the more I can’t.”

  “I don’t want to forget, Kat.” At least most of the time, but alcohol thankfully numbs me for the rest. “Is that why you’re hell-bent on avoiding me?”

  “Jared, I—”

  “No. No more excuses. No more avoiding. No more regrets. We move past it.” I wish I could move past it.

  But I can’t.

  I don’t regret a second of the kissing, the touches, the words, and the sex.

  It kills me that Kat does.

  We stare at each other, and even though I’m suffering from her remorse, I’m seriously struggling not to kiss her. I need to relive her lips moving with mine as the jolts spread through my body, and sear across my soul.

  But I can’t.

  I say, “You don’t need to pretend it didn’t happen. I won’t talk about it, so you don’t have to worry.”

  “I know you’re constantly thinking about it.” She does?

  I swallow hard. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

  She bites her lip, looking to my chest, but doesn’t say more.

  I sigh, glancing up at the sky. “Okay, Kat. Get in the car.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Surprised by her saying that, I lower my head to see her looking up at me, and I tease, “I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  Her brown eyes shine in the sun. “You already have.” I’m not sure if she’s joking or not, until a small smile plays on her lips.

  Unexpectedly, she slides the other way, grabbing the door handle, and dives back into the driver’s seat.

  The grin on my face is unexpected, but it
feels so good. Yet, not even close to how damn mind-blowing it was to finally be inside Kat, giving each other a part of ourselves. She thinks it was only about sex for me. Fuck that. It was so much more, and it scares the hell out of me.

  However, our time together is over, but I still can’t get enough of her. I want Kat so fucking much that it hurts to even smile when she’s not, especially knowing she’s filled with shame from sharing herself with me, which tears at me because I shared a part of myself that I never have before with anyone.

  How in the hell am I going to get through this sober?

  In the end, it’s sort of funny because it reminds me of when she quoted her mom about having something beautiful with someone. I thought what we had was, but I’m a guy. What the fuck do I know about that shit?

  Jesus Christ. Forgetting how Kat made me feel, and about our former togetherness is much better for my mental health.

  As well as for my not-so-beautiful broken heart.

  CHAPTER 24

  Friday, while everyone takes their lunch break, I sit at the top of the porch stairs, blankly staring down at the sidewalk in front of the bottom step.

  Kat is supposed to be here, but she’s not. No text, no call, and no reason why she shouldn’t be here.

  Yesterday’s driving went without incident. Without anything, really. She drove on the road without any objection, or at least, she didn’t voice any; however, she didn’t say much anyway. I did most of the talking, and that was just to give her directions or feedback. It definitely wasn’t the driving experience I’m used to with Kat. There was no teasing, touching, or laughing, not that she should be doing all those things while driving, but the in-between time, which is my favorite part, was suddenly awkward, forced, and depressing.

  How did we end up like this?

  Gray and white Converse interrupt my sidewalk view. “Hey.”

  My gaze travels up the smooth legs that have been wrapped around me, to the breasts I had in my mouth, up to the only lips I’ve ever devoured, and to the brown eyes that have mesmerized me from the first time I looked into them, even if they were behind glasses when I did.

  Kat offers an apologetic smile. “I just got your texts. I fell asleep on the couch last night, and then slept in. I’m sorry.”

  I tilt my head. “It’s okay.”

  “Why aren’t you eating lunch with Dash?”

  Shrugging, I mumble, “Not hungry.”

  “Me neither.” She nods behind her to the street. “I see you have the Nissan.”

  I look to it and nod. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I just thought you’d be tired of driving it all the time when you don’t have to.”

  “Not tired of it.”

  Kat peers past me to the house, looking up and down it. “The house is looking great. I can’t believe how fast it’s coming along.”

  “Yeah. I think Tony said it’ll be ready for your mom to move into the beginning of November.”

  “I know she’ll want to have a big party here, inviting you and your dad. I don’t know if you’d come back here for that.”

  “I would.”

  “She’ll probably invite you and your dad for Thanksgiving dinner, too.” She quietly laughs, but then cringes, biting her lip, as she darts her eyes to the grass.

  “I’d come back for that, too.”

  Kat clears her throat and says, “Speaking of dinner, my mom wanted me to invite you over for dinner tomorrow. Your dad will be there. Apparently, he has some big presentation she’s helping him prepare for, so it’s more like a dinner/work night. Your dad is bringing half of dinner, I guess.” She shrugs and plays with stray, purple hair. “You don’t have to come. It’ll be boring from the sounds of it.”

  “I’ll be there.” She nods, pursing her lips, twirling the purple strands around her finger, and I ask, “Should I bring anything?”

  “I’m bringing wine. If you want beer or something, bring that.”

  “Wine is good.”

  “Okay. Then just bring yourself.”

  “I can do that.”

  She smiles, but quickly looks away from me. I ask, “You want to drive?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  Getting up, I go down the steps. When I’m next to her, she glances up and I nod at the car. “Let’s go.”

  Once in the car, any resemblance to our earlier ability to have a casual conversation ceases, and we’re quiet again, except for a few instances.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “It’s an intersection and I’m turning.”

  “There aren’t any cars here. You don’t have a sign or a light telling you to stop, so you have a moving turn. You’re on the main road. You have the right of way.”

  “That’s right. Shit. Okay.”

  “Put your turn signal on, at least.”

  “But no one’s here.”

  “You still need to get into the habit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wrong one.”

  “Damn it.”

  I want to remind her of the time she squirted the windshield, instead of putting her turn signal on, during one of our school driving excursions, but I don’t even feel like reminiscing. I doubt she will, either.

  “Ease your brake to a stop. Don’t slam it at the last second.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “That’s a good way to get rear-ended.”

  “Sorry.”

  Those were our biggest exchanges. The rest of the time was filled with me giving direction or small tips. I’ve said more while getting my teeth cleaned.

  When we return to the build, Dash watches us from the porch, walking together up the sidewalk. Giving him a dirty look doesn’t deter him, but giving him the finger does, and he rolls his eyes as he walks over to Kat when we reach the top.

  “Hey, Merrick. Long time, no see. Feeling better?”

  She shrugs. “Some.”

  “What can I do to make it better?” From behind Kat, I glare at him, but it only eggs him on. “Why don’t we catch a movie tonight?”

  “That sounds so good.”

  “Cool.”

  What the fuck just happened?

  “I’ll find us a later showing so the theater isn’t as crowded.”

  She nods. “I need to have some fun.”

  “Yeah. You look like you need to. I’ll text you the time and pick you up. I’m heading home now. Want a ride?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Dash punches my arm as he goes down the stairs. “Until tomorrow, Jericho.”

  Kat quickly glances at me before she follows him. “Thank you for the drive, Jared. Have a good night.”

  I want to stop her, but after my scene with her brother, I can’t pull another one, especially being Dash. However, he’s not her brother, and this could be considered a date.

  No. He wouldn’t… Shit. Wouldn’t what? I’ve told him that Kat and I are only friends. Why should that stop him from wanting to be more than friends with her? Fuck.

  I want to fight, but she’s back to not wanting me. Now, she’s with my best friend, about to do God knows what with him tonight. She promised me, though. Fucking hell. She’s killing me.

  As I walk to the Nissan, I check my watch, deciding it’s the perfect time to start forgetting my slow death.

  “Come on, Daddy, have a drink with me!” Walking into the living room, he gives me a questionable look as I wave my beer to him from the couch.

  Taking a seat in the armchair, he disdainfully says, “You’re going at it a little heavy tonight.”

  “Sorry. I missed the memo where this is a dry household.”

  “You’ve been leaving a lot of cans in the recycling. Is there something you want to talk about?”

  “Yeah. If London Bridge is standing, why is there a song about it falling down?” My dad rolls his eyes as I laugh, shaking my half can of beer. “No. Seriously, Dad. Why aren’t you getting laid? Go to a bar or something. I’m sure you could find someone online, too.�


  “How many beers have you had?”

  I nod to the kitchen. “I left you one.” I dizzily smirk. “What? I think it’s only fair that I address your state of affairs, since you’re constantly asking if I’m screwing a certain Kat.”

  “I have not asked if you’re having sex with her. You’ve volunteered that information.”

  “I did?” Scratching my head, I say, “Oh, yeah.”

  “Not that I believe any of it.”

  I swallow my beer and ask, “Why not? You don’t think I can get the girl? I’m no backseat virgin.” I am. Shit. There’s a lot of things I haven’t done, due to my lack of interest.

  He frowns at me. “Nice.” I laugh into my beer can, nearly dribbling it down my chin and onto my shirt. He’s so fucking gullible.

  Dad says, “I never said you couldn’t ‘get the girl.’”

  “Right. You basically told me to keep it in my pants. I guess you’re my official pecker checker?”

  He sighs. “Jared Beckett.”

  Grinning, I shake my head. “Almost there.”

  “I said that I didn’t want you leading her on.”

  “I’m not leading her to anything.” Not anymore. “Don’t underestimate her, Dad. She’s not as bashful as you think.”

  “Why? What did she do? Did something happen?”

  I roll my eyes, which is a mistake since the room shakes. “Just saying.”

  He sits back, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. “We’ve been invited to Brenda’s for dinner tomorrow night. She’s helping me with a work project. Kat will be there.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Are you going?”

  I tip my beer can, finishing it off, and mumble, “Do I have a choice?”

  “You know you do. Did you take Kat driving today?”

  I snap my fingers, and then do it again, wondering how they make that sound. Looking up to my dad giving me a strange look, I say, “Yep. I forgot to log how many times we had sex, though.” I laugh and set my can on the table. “Well, look at that. I guess I do volunteer it.”

  He ignores my comment, asking, “How’s she feeling?”

  “That’s personal, but I am a gentleman and try to make sure she comes before I do.”

  Dad sighs again, not even bothering to comment further. Sitting back, I shrug and add, “You probably know more than I do, since she’s lying to me.”

 

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