by Street, K.
Jase eyed his sandwich. “You mixed the peanut butter and jelly.” It was a statement, not a question.
“It’s the only way to make it.”
Knox climbed up in his chair and set his cars on the table. “Mommy, this yucky.” He tried to give me his celery.
He had tried it a few times in the past and was not a fan.
“You don’t have to eat it, little man. Leave it on your plate though. Just eat half of your sandwich and some carrots and apples.”
“The last time I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made this way, your mom made it. I was still in high school.”
I took a bite and swallowed, and then I lifted my sandwich. “Well, here’s to embracing our inner child.”
We tapped our crust together in cheers.
“After lunch, want to take him O-U-T-S-I-D-E to play B-A-S-K-E-T-B-A-L-L?” Jase winked. “I figured it was safer to spell it in case the answer was no.”
“He would love that.”
I would, too, actually.
* * *
Jase was on one end of the couch while I was on the other. Knox was stretched out on the cushions between us, fast asleep.
After lunch, the three of us had spent the rest of the day hanging out and playing. We’d played tag in the yard, basketball, and I’d made homemade hot chocolate while the boys raced cars over the hardwood floor.
Knox missed out on so much because Colin wasn’t around. On the flip side, my son was blessed because he had my dad and brother to pick up the slack. Jase being here was different. He and Knox didn’t share DNA. Jase chose to spend time with a little boy who wasn’t his. The knowledge had me swinging on an emotional pendulum. Loss and lust existed in the same heartbeat, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
As the credits rolled at the end of Cars, I stood and then leaned over Knox to pick him up, but the sound of Jase’s voice stopped me.
“I can get him for you.”
“I can do it.”
For so long, I’d been used to doing everything on my own.
“You don’t have to. I’m right here.” The words were an arrow aimed straight at my heart.
I stepped out of the way. “Thank you.”
Jase stood and scooped up my son.
I led the way down the hall to Knox’s room and pulled his covers back. “I’ll be right back. His stuffed dragon is in the living room.”
I retrieved Rex and made it back into Knox’s room in time to see Jase pulling the blankets up and tucking him in.
He smoothed Knox’s hair from where it had fallen in his face. “Night, little dude,” he whispered.
Without saying a word, I stuck the dragon under the covers, kissed my son on the head, turned on the night-light, and we walked out of the room and headed into the kitchen.
“You okay?” Jase asked, from behind me.
I moved to the sink and stared out the window.
No. I’m not okay. Not even close.
Twenty-Six
Jase
“Yeah,” Saylor answered quietly, continuing to stare out the window.
I closed in on her. My chest inches from her back. Hands at my sides, itching to touch her.
She was lying, and we both knew it. I wanted nothing more than to haul her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her. Instead, I looked to the counter where she had set the bag I had given her earlier. Desperate to lighten the mood, I stepped over to it and pulled out the gift.
She turned to face me, and I passed her the box.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting it.
“You don’t even know what it is. You might hate it.”
Saylor set the box on the island. “This is a fancy packaging job. Did you do it yourself?”
I barked out a laugh. “Not a chance. My mom and sister dragged me to the mall. I had it wrapped at one of those charity wrapping stations.”
Saylor carefully opened the package and lifted off the lid. She held up the contents and started giggling. “Oh my God, you got me socks.” She gave me an open-mouthed smile as she held up a pair with llamas on them and text that said, Save the drama for your llama. “These are great.” She emptied the box and laid all eight pairs on the island, scanning them. “Those are hilarious.” The pair she pointed to had avocados on them and said, Bad-Hass.
Saylor gave me a hug.
My arms went around her back, gently squeezing her.
“Thank you.” She dropped her arms and stepped back.
“Well, I’m glad you like them.” I indicated over my shoulder to the bag. “There’re a couple of bottles of wine in there, too.”
“I saw. The Green Apple Riesling is really good, by the way.”
My brow rose in question.
Before I could ask, she explained, “Easton had a bottle in the pantry.”
“Of course. So, you liked it?” The flavor profile was one my grandfather and I had been working to perfect before he died.
“You could say that. I drank the entire bottle.” She gathered her new socks and placed them back in the box.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“A person has a glass of wine or two because they enjoy it. If they drink an entire bottle, there is usually a reason.”
“Considering I’m not a huge drinker under normal circumstances, I guess you can draw your own conclusion.”
“You can talk to me. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
Silence fell between us. I wanted to tell her how much today meant to me. How I loved spending time with her and Knox. That today was the best day I’d had in a long time. I wanted her to open up to me, but I didn’t want to force it if she wasn’t ready. Maybe it was time to call it a night.
“I’m going to talk to someone,” she softly stated.
Relief washed over me. “You are?”
“A therapist who specializes in grief counseling.” Saylor met my eyes and then looked away.
The dance had started. The same one we had done that day on the sidewalk when I told her about Candace. She needed time to find the words, and I patiently waited until she was ready.
Several minutes passed, and then Saylor told me about Christmas. About the pictures on her phone, how much she’d had to drink, and how Easton had found her passed out on the bathroom floor. Then, she told me about the two days that had followed. Her tone was detached, like she was telling someone else’s story.
“Two days ago marked the first anniversary. When I got up, it was as though a switch had flipped. I made a choice to celebrate Colin’s life. I kept Knox home from school, and I took him out to breakfast.”
Saylor explained the note, the one she had found the day I came by to drop off Knox’s present. “After Knox and I came home, I got online and did some research. I thought I would have to wait until next week to make an appointment, but I was able to make one through the website. Someone called me yesterday to set it up.”
I moved closer, invading her space, and pulled her into a hug. “Will it sound patronizing if I say I’m really proud of you?”
Her arms went around my waist, returning my embrace. “No.”
I hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face. “I am proud of you.”
There was a storm of emotion in her light-blue eyes. Sadness, longing, desire.
Heat swirled in the air like kerosene vapor. I palmed the back of her head while the pad of my thumb grazed her bottom lip, striking the match.
Saylor’s slender fingers closed around my wrist as her eyelids fell shut. “Jase.”
“I want to kiss you.”
Goose bumps rose over her skin at the sound of my words. Her lids fluttered open, and her grip tightened the slightest bit. “I know.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“I’m not.”
I appreciated her honesty, but the admission stung. I guided her back to my chest and kissed the top of her head.
“I
should go.”
She dropped her arms from around me, and we wordlessly made our way to the door.
I twisted the knob and stepped outside as Saylor flipped on the light.
“I don’t want you to go,” she confessed.
“But you need me to?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” My lips brushed her temple. “Good night.”
“Night.”
I turned and stepped off the porch, walking away from the woman I wanted more than anything.
Twenty-Seven
Saylor
Now that the holidays were over, life had shifted back into a routine. I grabbed my purse and keys and then knocked on the doorjamb of Easton’s office.
“I’m heading out to pick up Knox and go to the store. Is there anything you need?”
“We’re almost out of coffee.”
“I’ll grab it. I was thinking soup and sandwiches for dinner. Sound good?”
“Any meal I don’t have to cook is perfect. I shouldn’t be here too late.”
“All right, I will see you at home.”
“See you later.”
After I backtracked to say good-bye to Helen, I opened the rear office door, exiting into the parking lot. My skin chilled as it met the January wind. With my keys already in my palm, I pressed the button to unlock my vehicle and hurried inside.
My purse vibrated as I set it on the passenger seat. Shoving my hand inside, I blindly searched for my cell.
I clutched it in my hand and slid the pad of my finger over the screen to open the text message.
Jase: Do you have any plans for Saturday?
I scrutinized the message, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t have plans, but I was nervous as to why he’d asked. As though he could hear my thoughts, he sent another text.
Jase: It’s not a date, Socks.
Not a date. See? Not a date.
Another text followed that one.
Jase: There will be wine.
Me: I’m listening.
Jase: I’m meeting with a grocer in Helen to see if they’ll add Turner Creek to their wine inventory.
Jase: I’m driving up on Saturday to talk to the woman who owns it.
Jase: I thought you might like to come.
I had done zero exploring since I moved here, and discovering new places was a hobby of mine.
Me: I would love to go. Let me call my mom and see if she can watch Knox.
After I got off the phone, I texted Jase back.
Me: Funny story. My parents wanted to take Knox to the aquarium this weekend.
Jase: I’ll pick you up around 9.
Me: 9? As in the morning? On a weekend?
Jase: Suck it up, buttercup.
Me: Fine. See you Saturday.
Me: Jase?
Jase: Socks?
Me: Thanks for inviting me on a Not a Date.
Me: It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything fun.
Jase: Don’t thank me yet.
Me: Why?
Jase: 1. Curvy mountain roads. 2. You might not like my playlist.
Jase: Socks?
Me: Jase?
Jase: You’re welcome.
* * *
I was in the middle of putting my sneakers on when the doorbell rang on Saturday morning.
“I’ll get it,” East hollered.
My brother knew I had plans to hang out with Jase today. Even though Jase was his best friend, East didn’t seem to mind. Frankly, I thought he was just relieved he hadn’t found me on the bathroom floor again. Besides, this wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting, and I was just going along for the ride.
I grabbed my purse and then snagged my coat from the closet before I followed the voices into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I greeted Jase and East as I entered the kitchen.
“Morning, Socks.” Jase palmed a to-go cup.
“Here, I made you one to go, too.” East held out a cup that matched Jase’s.
I took it from his hand and pecked his cheek. “You’re my favorite big brother.”
“It’s not like I have any competition.”
“You’re right.” I patted his arm. “That’s probably a good thing.”
“All right,” East said, “you two have fun. I’m going to get ready to go to the gym.”
“Have a good workout,” I told him.
“Thanks, kid.” East cocked his head and pinned Jase with a glare. “Drive safe. Remember my sister is in the truck with you, so watch how fast you take the hairpin turns. Also, she gets carsick.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Jase vowed.
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to beat your ass.”
A look of understanding passed between them. They bumped knuckles, and then East walked away.
“We should probably get going before I start growing hair on my toes from all the testosterone in the air.”
Jase feigned offense. “We’re just being protective, Socks.”
“Yes. Such fine Southern gentlemen,” I declared in my best Southern accent.
On the way out the door, Jase asked, “So, you get carsick?”
“Once. I got carsick once. And I was two.”
Jase opened the passenger door of his truck, and I grabbed the oh-shit handle and hoisted myself up. After he shut the door, he walked around and climbed behind the wheel. The truck roared to life, and once our seat belts were buckled, Jase backed out of the driveway.
“I know there’s more to the story. Let’s hear it.”
Of course Jase was going to make me tell the story. I briefly entertained the idea of replacing Easton’s shampoo with hair removal cream.
I angled my body, so my knees were toward Jase and began to tell the version of the story I’d heard a hundred times. “As the tale goes, we were on a road trip and stopped for gas in Memphis. I asked my dad for Cheetos. In typical Brent Chadwick fashion, he bought his baby girl the biggest bag they had. When he got back in the car, he opened them. And he gave me the. Entire. Bag.”
Jase already knew where this was going. His look lay somewhere between laughter and mortification.
“And you know my mother,” I continued. “She said to my father, ‘You seriously did not just give her that entire bag of Cheetos.’ To which, my father replied, ‘It’s fine.’” I paused to sip my coffee.
“Oh shit.” Jase’s eyes focused on the road while his shoulders shook with laughter.
“Just wait for it. My mom told my dad, ‘Well, when she pukes, I’m not cleaning it up.’ Dad was all, ‘It’s fine.’”
At this point, Jase was laughing so hard; I might have glimpsed a tear in the corner of his eye.
“It was not fine, my friend. Not at all. You can guess what happened not even five minutes after the words left my mama’s mouth.”
Disbelief masked his face. “No way.”
“Yes way. My parents are solely responsible for the Memphis baby wipe shortage of 1992. And do you want to know what the best part of the story is?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“When my mother asked my dad what had possessed him to buy me the Cheetos in the first place, he said, ‘Because she wanted them.’” I raised my cup to my lips and then added, “That is the one and only time I’ve ever gotten carsick.”
Jase smirked. “I assume you don’t eat Cheetos anymore either.”
“Your assumption is correct.”
The drive into Helen took a little over an hour, and we talked the entire time. He took me to breakfast at one of the little eateries in the Alpine Village, and later, when Jase had his meeting, I strolled through the open shops. Then, I went back to wait for him on the porch of the grocery store.
I didn’t wait long, and when Jase came out, the smile on his face said it all.
“You’re in?”
“I’m in.”
I threw my arms around his neck, and he spun me in a circle before setting me
on my feet.
“I’m so happy for you.”
“It’s contingent on how well the wine sells, but they ordered two cases.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
“Thanks, Socks.”
I could tell by the look in his eyes how much the praise meant.
“What do you want to do now? We can go grab lunch if you’re too cold.”
“I’m good. Let’s go walk around for a bit.”
It was cold, but we were both wearing coats. And, in all honesty, I wasn’t ready to leave.
Together, we walked down the steps and then crossed the street. Jase made me stand in front of the giant windmill and put my hand out. Then, he stepped back to take the photo, so it looked like I was holding the structure in my palm. Afterward, he took a few selfies of us together. We strolled up the sidewalk until we came to a little park with porch swings strategically placed.
We sat on one of the swings, and Jase rocked us back and forth.
“In case I forget to tell you later, thanks for asking me to come with you today. I needed it.”
“You’re welcome, Socks.”
I cupped my hands and blew warm breath into my palms.
“You’re freezing. There’s this barbeque place about two blocks that way.” He tipped his head. “I’ll buy you lunch.”
“Wait, I thought this wasn’t a date.”
He bought breakfast, too, but I digress.
“This is a Not a Date.” He stood. “I’m using you as a tax write-off.”
I busted out laughing. “Well then, that is perfectly acceptable.”
“Now, let’s go. If I get you sick, your brother will have a tantrum.”
We ate lunch in the covered outdoor eating area where propane heaters had been set up, so we were plenty warm enough.
After lunch, we drove up to Unicoi State Park. We stopped at two different wineries on the way home to check out the local competition, and then we grabbed dinner.
