Where Forever Ends: Maplewood Falls: Book One

by Street, K.

  So gross.

  I remembered Easton had two hot-water tanks. My lips turned up in a smile. Tonight, I would have the best of both worlds. I showered quickly and washed my hair. After the tub was rinsed, I climbed back in and plugged the drain, turning the showerhead off and the faucet on. The tub wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to get the job done.

  As I relaxed into the warm water, I leaned my head on the back of the tub and closed my eyes. I thought about Jase and the way his mouth had moved over mine. The way it’d felt to be consumed by lust and desire instead of loss and grief, even for just a little while. My thoughts shifted to Colin. The differences between the two men were night and day.

  Colin had been dark. From his warm olive skin to his deep brown eyes flecked with gold. He was tall and trim from running on a treadmill a few times a week. He wore suits to his white-collar job. Deals were made on the golf course after the ninth hole. Or over evening scotch. Manual labor was saved for the weekends and often hired out. Except for his closely shaved beard, Colin had been smooth lines. Crisp and neat, well pressed and starched.

  Jase, on the other hand, had the whole sexy-lumberjack thing going on. Rugged, handsome, defined muscles, and thick veins. Steeped in family tradition and sweat equity. He preferred the great outdoors over an air-conditioned office and probably changed the oil in his truck himself. Jase was jagged edges, callused hands, and grit. Fresh-from-the-dryer flannel, worn denim, and work boots.

  Both were damn good kissers.

  My fingertips glided over my lips. The echo of Jase’s kiss still lingered, sending a rush of heat to my core. His mouth on mine had nearly been combustible, and when it was over, my sixteen-year-old-self had swooned at Jase’s feet.

  Today was the best I’d had in a long time. I’d enjoyed spending time with Jase even if he had given me shit about that damn frog. Every time I was near him, the attraction between us was undeniable, but it was more than that, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  Several more minutes passed before I sat up and emptied the water from the tub. I wrapped myself in a towel and used another to twist around my hair. A thought occurred to me as I padded into my bedroom, and the need to write it down drew me like an invisible thread to the bedside table.

  I took a seat on the bed, cracking open the new journal I had purchased, and reached for the pen. On the page, I wrote a single sentence.

  Today, I wasn’t sad.

  Thirty-Two

  Saylor

  I sat in the waiting room of Dr. Gold’s office, flipping through a magazine. It was just a few minutes after three when her door opened.

  “Good afternoon, Saylor. Please come in.”

  I replaced the magazine on the table, reached for my purse, and stood. “Good afternoon, Dr. Gold.” I walked toward her.

  She moved off to the side, allowing me to enter her office. Then, she closed the door behind us and motioned to the chair. “Have a seat.”

  I settled into the chair, crossed my legs, and folded my hands in my lap.

  “How have things been going since I saw you last week?”

  “Good, actually.” I told her about the house and my plans to move out of Easton’s.

  “That seems like a positive step forward. Do you have any concerns?”

  “I’m a little worried about Knox. It’s a lot of change for him.”

  Dr. Gold nodded in agreement. “It’s a lot of change for you, too. Children are resilient. But you and Knox have been through something traumatic. He’ll take his cues from you.”

  “I’m open for suggestions if you have any. I’d like to make the transition as smooth as possible.”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment before she finally spoke, “There are a few things you can do. You mentioned you probably wouldn’t be able to move in until mid-March. Start talking to him about it. Maybe let him pick out the paint color or theme for his room. It will give him a sense of ownership and control.”

  “That’s a great idea. Thank you.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Be gentle with yourself and with your son. He might need extra attention, but don’t neglect yourself. Being a parent is overwhelming; being both Mom and Dad is even more so. There are a lot of demands on your time, and you’re constantly pouring into others, filling their cups. You must remember to replenish your own. Practice self-care, whatever that looks like for you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Did you bring the journal with you?”

  “Yes.” I laughed. “I only wrote in it once, and it was just one sentence.”

  “Saylor, there’s no right or wrong way to do this.” She smiled warmly. “Whatever you’ve written is fine. May I see it?”

  I reached into my bag, grasped the spiral edge, and pulled it out. Leaning forward, I passed it to her.

  My gaze dropped to my lap as I picked at my nails.

  “Today, I wasn’t sad,” she read my words aloud. “That’s a powerful sentence. When did you write this entry?”

  “Last Saturday. That was demo day.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I was beginning to recognize that was Dr. Gold’s favorite thing to say.

  “It was fun, physical, and I laughed like I hadn’t in a long time.” I recounted the story about the frog and Jase but left out the kiss.

  “Your smile grew when you mentioned Jase.”

  “He’s my brother’s best friend. I used to have a crush on him when I was younger.”

  “You two were never involved?”

  “God, no.” I laughed while shaking my head. “There’s a six-year age gap between us. Now, it’s nothing, but then … it was huge. My dad and brother would have killed him.”

  “What about now?”

  Well, shit.

  I met Dr. Gold’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “I love Colin. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, but …”

  She waited patiently, but I couldn’t make the words come.

  “Saylor, whatever you’re feeling is normal. There are no rules. Grief crashes in waves, recedes like the tide. There are ebbs and flows. Each person travels their own journey.” She waited a beat and then asked, “Is this about Jase?”

  “Whenever I’m around him … there’s this pull between us.”

  “You’re attracted to him.”

  “Very,” I answered honestly. “It’s more than that though. He makes me laugh; he’s been there for me.” My mind went to the day he’d found me on the kitchen floor. “He spends time with my son. Jase has always been in the background of my life in some way.”

  She leaned forward a bit. “Are you starting to have feelings for him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Yes, I have feelings for him. I don’t know what they are, but there is something there.”

  “It’s not an either-or situation, Saylor. You know that, right? Just because you laugh, experience feelings of attraction, have sex, or start a new relationship … it doesn’t mean you no longer love Colin.”

  “I don’t want to forget my husband. I love him. I will always love him, with every breath, for the rest of my life.”

  “Of course you will. He’s a part of you. But the human heart’s capacity to love is astounding. Your love for Colin won’t be diminished because you allow someone else in.”

  “Rationally, I know that.” My gaze dropped to my shoes. “It feels like I’m betraying Colin.”

  “All the emotions you’re feeling, we’ll work through them together. It’s a completely normal reaction in your situation. Give yourself permission to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. Use the journal. Write it down.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “Good.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re almost out of time, but remember how I asked you last week to think about your goals for our sessions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to sha
re those with me?”

  “I guess my goal is to gain perspective. To find better ways to cope with all my feelings.”

  Dr. Gold passed the journal back to me. “I’m sure we can get you there.”

  The soft musical alarm played, and I rose to my feet along with the good doctor. She walked to her desk to shut it off as I headed to the door.

  “Saylor?”

  I halted before reaching for the knob and twisted to face her. “Yes?”

  “I have more homework for you.”

  I made a face, and she called me on it.

  “It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

  “Okay,” I said but didn’t quite believe her.

  “You mentioned how exhausted you were after the demo and that you found it easier to sleep.”

  I nodded and waited for her to continue.

  “I think increasing your physical activity might help you mentally.”

  “So, my homework is to join a gym or something?” I started laughing. “Please don’t tell me I have to take up running because I must tell you, Doc, that’s not my thing. Not even a serial killer dressed in a clown costume, chasing me with a bloody knife, would entice me, much to my father’s disappointment.”

  Dr. Gold quirked a brow in question.

  I held up my hand, palm up. “No. Nothing like that. No daddy issues here. My parents are great. My dad is a runner and was slightly bummed when I didn’t run track in high school.”

  She laughed. “My dad had his heart set on me playing softball. I can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  “See? You get it.”

  “I do. Okay, running is out. You don’t have to join a gym either. Maybe start going for walks, ride a bike, lift weights, even kickboxing, if that’s your thing.”

  “Okay, I’ll discover my thing.”

  “Good.”

  I opened the door.

  “I’ll see you next Wednesday, Saylor.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Gold.”

  I strode out of her office with a smile on my face.

  Thirty-Three

  Jase

  Three weeks had passed since the renovation of Saylor’s new house began. The electrical and plumbing had been updated. Our crew had finished framing earlier this week, and the new drywall was in place.

  Saylor was bringing Knox by any minute to have a look around.

  Last weekend, the three of us had spent the day together. I had taken them out to breakfast, and then we’d driven to Lowe’s to pick out paint colors before spending a couple of hours at the local children’s museum.

  “I am here, Jase.” Knox’s voice echoed through the house.

  I rounded the corner, stepping into the main living space. Knox ran to me and threw his arms around my legs.

  “Hey, bud.” I picked him up and winked at Saylor, who stood, watching us with a smile. “How was school?”

  “Good. Finley shared her gummies.”

  “She did?”

  “Yep. She is my girlfriend.”

  I put my fist up for him to pound. “Wow. A girlfriend and gummies all in the same day. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  He bumped his knuckles against mine and made an explosion noise.

  “Can I go see my room?”

  “Ask your mom.”

  “Can I, Mommy?”

  Saylor directed her question to me. “Is there anything he can get hurt on?”

  “No. The crew left for the day. Since they’ll start painting tomorrow, all the tools and stuff have been cleaned up.”

  She nodded. “Okay. But don’t touch anything.”

  I set him on his feet.

  “Okay!” he shouted as he ran down the hallway.

  Now that Saylor and I were alone, I tugged her into my arms and brushed my lips over hers.

  “Hi.”

  She smiled against my lips. “Hi.”

  We had been taking things slow and hadn’t progressed beyond a few stolen kisses here and there, none of them quite as hot as the day the frog had landed on her. I let her set the pace and followed her lead. She’d started opening up a little more, and on the days her grief got the best of her, I’d give her space. We had been spending more and more time together, partially because of the house but not entirely. If we didn’t see each other, we’d text or talk on the phone. Our lives were gradually becoming intertwined.

  “He’s quiet, which means we should probably go find him.”

  “Mother’s intuition?”

  “Exactly.”

  Knox sat, staring out the window. “Mommy! Jase! Look at that. See a frog.”

  I went over to the window and looked where he pointed. “It sure is, buddy.” My focus shifted to Saylor.

  Her face was a mix of shock and horror. “That’s all I need, a colony of frogs in the backyard. They probably had a clubhouse meeting down at the pond, passed my picture around, and sent their nomads out to size me up.”

  I was fighting to hold on to my laughter, but it was no use. “That’s some imagination you’ve got there, Socks.”

  “Mommy, I wanna keep him.”

  “Nope. Sorry, not happening, little man.”

  “Ah.”

  Poor kid.

  “Hey, Knox, I have a project for you.”

  His eyes got as big as saucers. “You do?”

  “Yep.” I walked to the corner of the room. On top of the drop cloth sat two samples of paint, two brushes, and a pouch with a kid-sized clear raincoat. I opened the package and then unfolded the plastic.

  “Is that for me?”

  “It sure is.”

  I glanced up to find Saylor intently watching us.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  What is she thanking me for?

  When it came to the two of them, I was all in. However, I planned to keep that to myself because, if I told her, she would freak the fuck out.

  I took off Knox’s coat and tossed it to Saylor before slipping the poncho on over his head. Once his arms were through the sleeves, I opened one of the samples. Plastic wrinkled as I knelt beside him.

  “Remember when we went to the paint store and you picked out two colors for your room?”

  He nodded his head while staring into the small container in my hand.

  “Well, we’re going to see which color you like best.” I dipped the brush inside the paint and sloshed off the excess against the rim. “Can you paint a square on the wall for me?”

  “A giant one?”

  “How about a little one?”

  “Okay.”

  His small hand gripped the wooden handle. Knox swept the pale blue–covered bristles on the wall.

  “Hey, you two.”

  We turned our attention toward Saylor.

  She held up her phone. “Smile.”

  Knox said, “Pickles, no cheese.”

  A quiet click sounded.

  “One more.”

  This time, Knox said, “Cheesy pickles.”

  Another click, and then Saylor shoved her phone back into her pocket.

  I grinned at Saylor. “What in the world is cheesy pickles?”

  She chuckled. “When Knox was little, he was a chubby little guy. If he just said cheese, his smile was so big that his cheeks practically swallowed his eyeballs. So, the pickles, no cheese thing sort of happened. That way, he knew to do a small smile. One day, he said cheesy pickles instead, and both sort of stuck.”

  “Great job, bud,” I told Knox.

  Saylor moved closer when she saw me reaching for the lid. She took the sample from my hand.

  “Pickles, no cheese. You’re sort of adorable.”

  She rolled her eyes as she capped the container.

  I opened the other jar and swapped out Knox’s brush. When he was finished, the paint was sealed, and we stood back to admire his handiwork.

  “Which one do you like better, little man?” his mom asked.

  Knox pressed his index finger to his chin in contemplation. After a minute, he said, “I want t
his one,” pointing to the shade of paint that was more blue than gray.

  I pulled the carpenter’s pencil from my back pocket and marked an X above the one he’d chosen. “I’m going to take him outside, so he can help me clean the brushes, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Of course it’s all right.” She helped him out of the poncho and slipped his coat back on.

  “I already painted swatches in the living room for the main part of the house and in your bedroom and bathroom.” I gave her my pencil. “Mark the colors you want, so I can let the painter know.”

  “Okay. Um, do you want to come over for dinner?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Easton’s home this weekend, so …”

  She didn’t have to spell it out for me. I knew what she was getting at; however, it was time I had a chat with my best friend.

  “Let’s go, bud. After we clean the brushes, we can look for the frog.”

  Saylor’s eyes went wide, and she pointed a finger at me. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Never.” I winked.

  “I mean it, Jase,” she called after us as I walked out of the room with her son at my side.

  * * *

  I stood on Easton’s porch and rapped my knuckles against the door.

  “Hey, man. What’s going on?” Easton greeted as he stepped out of the way to let me in.

  “Not much.”

  “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.” I followed him into the kitchen, saying hello to Knox.

  He sat on the couch, watching cartoons.

  Easton went to the fridge, grabbed two beers, and passed one to me.

  I twisted off the cap and took a long pull from the bottle. My eyes landed on the Crock-Pot on the counter. Whatever Saylor had made for dinner smelled damn good.

  Easton went to the sink and filled a pot of water. Then, he put it on the stove and lit the burner beneath it before coming to stand adjacent to me at the counter. “How are things coming with the house?”

  I set the beer on the island and loosely crossed my arms. “We’re on schedule. I ran home to take a shower and put in the paint order. It’ll be ready tomorrow morning at seven thirty.”