by Devney Perry
Selfish as it was, I didn’t want Thea and Charlie to be having a blast in New York. I wanted them to come home, though I was sure Logan would try and convince them to stay. He’d be a fool not to try, and Logan was no idiot.
“Don’t worry.” Hazel squeezed my hip. “They’ll come home.”
“I hope so.”
I couldn’t imagine them not being here and living with Hazel. As she got older, I worried about her alone in that cottage. But if Thea did stay in New York, I’d make sure Hazel was cared for.
“Are you here to check on me? Or to talk to Willa?” Hazel asked, cutting right to the chase.
I chuckled. “Both?”
She laughed too. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing what’s been in front of you all these years.”
“Me too.”
Maybe it wasn’t that I hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe it was the lonely ache in my chest I hadn’t felt for years making me realize I wanted something more.
“But Jackson?”
I looked down. “Yeah?”
“Don’t you break that girl’s heart. If you think there’s even a chance you’ll hurt her, you walk away.”
Did she really have no faith in me?
“I’m not going to break her heart,” I snapped. “But I appreciate you thinking so highly of me that I’d go into this without thinking it through.”
“Watch your attitude.” She gave me the scowl she’d invented just for me. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.” I sighed. “I know she’s something special.”
“Then I’ll say no more.”
My eyes went back to the firepit, where Willa was reading from a clipboard. She had the kids’ undivided attention as she spoke. They smiled up at her from their benches with complete adoration.
“She’s good with them,” I told Hazel.
“One of the best. She should have been a teacher like her dad. She’s got the patience and a way of explaining things to kids that just clicks.”
“I wish I would have had a teacher like that.”
I couldn’t remember a single one of my teachers’ names because none of them had been memorable. The person who’d coached me through algebra and geography and made sure I graduated was Hazel.
“But I had you.” I hugged Hazel tighter. “You made sure I didn’t flunk. And that I knew exactly where Lark Cove, Montana, was on a map.”
She laughed. “Brainwashing. I had to make sure either you or Thea came out here to keep me company. I lucked out and got you both.”
“We’re the lucky ones.” I planted a kiss on the top of her hair.
The stress of those last few years mixing drinks and managing a small-town bar had turned her once-brown hair to a silvery white. Though she blamed the color on me instead of the long nights. I also got credit for the deep worry lines on her tanned and leathery skin. The puckering around her mouth was thanks to Virginia Slims.
Despite it all, she was still a beautiful woman. To me, she always would be, inside and out.
“Don’t waste your sweet on me,” Hazel said. “Save it for Willa.” She swung an arm toward the firepit, then used her hand on my back to shove me forward.
I shot her a grin and walked toward the pit.
The kids were all huddled in groups of three, each team inspecting a sheet of paper as Willa watched on.
“Ready. Set. Go!” Willa called and the kids went dashing in all different directions.
Willa smiled, then steered one group of kids in the opposite direction. When she turned to watch them leave, she spotted me coming her way. Her face flushed, her cheeks not quite as red as her shirt. She tugged at her hem with one hand and held her clipboard against her chest with the other.
She was undoubtedly shy, but Willa had a fire inside her too. She’d given me a glimpse of her spirit these past few nights and damn if it wasn’t sexy as hell.
I waved as I approached. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Her eyes raked down my green shirt to my jeans. Then she blushed deeper, her gaze darting to her clipboard.
Oh, yeah. She just checked me out.
Maybe my note had actually worked.
I stopped in front of her and leaned in close, dragging in a long breath of her hair. She smelled so delicious, like coconut and vanilla. Her head lifted up and I dropped my eyes to her clipboard, pretending she hadn’t just busted me for sniffing her hair.
“Is that a scavenger hunt?” I pointed to the checklist on her clipboard.
She nodded. “Yeah. Good old-fashioned camp fun.”
“Hmm. Let me see.” I took the clipboard from her arm. “Pine cone. Green leaf. Wildflower. Feather.” I read the rest of the list without narrating, then handed it back. “Cool. What do the winners get?”
“Um, bragging rights around the campfire? We do a new list every day to give the kids options if they don’t want to do the nature hike or go fishing.”
“So that wasn’t all the kids?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, just under half. Everyone else is out with the counselors exploring.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I’d probably be out with them too if I were a kid. Though as an adult, I’d stay behind if that’s where you were.”
“Oh.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “What, um . . .” Her fingers fiddled with the clip on the board. “What’s up?”
“You read my note?”
She nodded. “I did.”
“Good.” That meant we could move on from the whole me-calling-her-by-the-wrong-name thing and get to the days where she wasn’t slamming doors in my face. “Come to the bar and have dinner with me tonight.”
“Was that an invitation or a command?”
I shrugged. “Does it matter?”
She frowned and I knew immediately that wasn’t the right thing to say. Without a word, she marched toward the building between the bunkhouses marked SHOWERS.
“Hey, wait!” I ran after her, but she was walking fast. “What about dinner?”
She didn’t answer. She just kept on marching all the way to the women’s side, disappearing inside without hesitation.
Well, fuck.
I guess my note hadn’t worked after all.
I debated going inside the showers but didn’t want to terrify a young girl if Willa wasn’t alone. So with a grumble and a kick at the dirt, I went back toward the parking lot.
I didn’t miss Hazel watching from a window in the lodge, laughing her ass off. At least I was entertaining her.
She’d be in for another show soon, because I’d be back again tomorrow.
I might have watched Jackson Page for years, but there was a lot I didn’t know about him. For one, the man was stubborn.
He was so darn stubborn it was driving me insane.
He’d been to the camp every day this week. Every. Single. Day.
After I’d escaped to the showers on Wednesday, I’d thought Jackson would give me some space and back off. But he hadn’t, not even a little. If anything, my rejection seemed to encourage his behavior.
He visited the camp every morning to sit in the kitchen and drink coffee with Hazel. I made sure I was always out and about with the kids—hiding, basically. But I could only avoid my office and the kitchen area for so long. The best part of my job was hanging with the campers, but I also enjoyed the office work. I loved the behind-the-scenes tasks, the ones that made this camp mine. And though avoiding Jackson was a priority, there were bills to pay, phone calls to return and emails from parents to answer.
Jackson loomed outside my office whenever I was there. He didn’t say much. He didn’t invite me to dinner again or ask me to stop by the bar. He was just . . . there. As he talked to Hazel, he stood in the kitchen right where he could see through my office door. Every time I glanced up from my computer, he was watching me. He’d flash me a quick smile and go back to his conversation with Hazel.
Those smiles would fluster me so completely that I couldn’t
concentrate on anything. I overpaid our water bill by thirteen cents and most of the emails I sent were riddled with typos.
And it wasn’t just his camp visits either.
Jackson continued leaving me notes in my door. Every. Single. Day. Each evening when I returned home from work, I found a note waiting.
The only reprieve I’d gotten from his presence was at night. His two-in-the-morning visits had stopped, but if he thought he was sparing me sleep, he was mistaken. My mind was too busy to sleep, pondering his notes.
He didn’t press for a date in his notes or apologize again. Instead, they were just sweet and thoughtful and even funny—especially the first one.
Willa
I saw this today and it made me laugh. Thought you might like it too.
Jackson
That message had been scribbled on a yellow Post-it and stuck to a clipping from last Sunday’s Daily Inter Lake newspaper.
Craftsman Boat For Sale. Like New. $9,000.
Girlfriend Pregnant. Wife Pissed. Need Cash for Lawyer.
It wasn’t a big thing but had made me laugh.
The next note wasn’t as funny, but the smile it gave me was bigger.
Willa
In case your sweet tooth is like mine.
Jackson
He’d stuck that note on a Snickers bar. It had melted in its wrapper by the time I’d gotten home, but I’d stuck it in the freezer to harden it up. Even misshapen, it had hit the spot.
Today’s note—left early in the day—had been simple. No gift or funny gimmick. Just a note.
Willa
I hope you had a good week.
Jackson
And it had been a good week.
I never considered a group of campers bad, but there were always weeks that stood out from others. This week’s group of kids was amazing. They were all fun and energetic. Not a single one of them thought they were too cool for certain activities. We had full participation from every kid in every event.
It would be the week I’d remember from this year. They would be the group whose picture I’d frame for my office wall.
Jackson’s notes had been the icing on the cake.
I’d collected a total of four notes from the week, and I’d had more face time with Jackson than ever before. He was weakening my resolve to forget about him. The crush I’d had for so long was being rekindled, this time burning even brighter.
Two more notes and I doubted I’d be able to say no to a dinner invitation.
I had a sneaking suspicion that he knew I was about to give in too. He was probably just waiting me out to see if I’d finally cave—more like when.
Jackson’s charm was irresistible. It was like being surrounded by puppies. You couldn’t not pet them.
The only reason I was still holding strong was because of my fears. I was scared. No, terrified.
Jackson had kissed me and forgotten. He’d overlooked me for years. I could get past those problems and let it all go. Deep down, I’d already forgiven him for forgetting about our night on the swings.
What petrified me was the realization that Jackson had the power to decimate my life. I was halfway in love with him already. If he made me fall the rest of the way, then tossed me aside, I’d be destroyed.
He’d leave me utterly and completely broken.
So here I was, standing at a crossroad. On one side was self-preservation. Jackson Page was on the other.
My phone rang on the kitchen counter and I rushed over to grab it. Seeing Leighton’s picture on the screen, I answered with a smile. “Hey!”
“So? Did you get another note?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
After our dinner with June and Hannah earlier in the week, I’d called and told her all about Jackson. She was on Jackson’s side of my crossroad, waving me over.
“I’ll be there in a sec.” She hung up before I could respond.
I laughed and went to unlock the door since it wouldn’t take her long to get here.
Leighton lived on the other side of town, the “lake side” whereas I lived on the “town side.” The highway was the divider, separating the larger homes on the shoreline from the majority of businesses and locals’ homes on the other.
She hadn’t always lived on the lakeside. When we were kids, her family had lived a couple of blocks away. But her dad was in construction and had made a lot of money over the last twenty years building extravagant lake homes. He’d worked hard, and as a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present to Leighton’s mom, he’d invested in some lakefront property of his own and built them a beautiful home.
He’d also built a boathouse for Leighton, so like me, she lived on her parents’ property but in her own space.
Ten minutes later, after she’d walked across the highway and up a few blocks to my house, Leighton was sitting next to me on the edge of my bed with Jackson’s note in her hand.
“He loves you.”
I rolled my eyes. “He doesn’t love me. He just wants . . . well, I don’t know exactly what he wants.”
“It’s not sex,” she declared, earning another eye roll. “Okay, it’s not only sex. If he wanted his normal slam, bam, thank you, ma’am kind of night, he wouldn’t be leaving you notes and coming to see you at work.”
My lips pursed and I swallowed the bitter taste on my tongue. I didn’t want to think about Jackson doing any kind of slamming or bamming.
“What are you going to do?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. What would you do?”
“I think you should tell him about the kiss in the playground.”
“No sirree.” I shot off the bed. “As far as I’m concerned, that night never happened.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to go out with him. If that night never happened, then you have nothing to be mad about. Especially since he apologized for calling you Willow for so long.”
I frowned, annoyed that she’d tricked me. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But why not? I mean, you’ve liked this guy for an eternity, so why not go out with him? Yes, he got drunk and high and kissed you, then forgot. Total asshole move. But it was one mistake. If you tell him about it, I bet he’ll feel awful.”
“I’m never telling him about it, Leighton.”
She held up her hands. “Fine. What I’m saying is that he messed up and would probably own it. Just like this note.”
She plucked the apology note from my nightstand. Was it pathetic that I kept them on my nightstand so I could sleep next to them? Probably.
“I don’t want to tell him.” I sighed. “It would be too humiliating.”
“Then don’t tell him. But if he really is interested, why wouldn’t you go out with him?”
I went back to the bed and plopped down. “It hurt. So much. I’ve never felt anything like that before. And that was just after one kiss. What happens if we date for a while and then he dumps me? What if he breaks my heart?”
She set her hand over mine, her pink manicured nails such a contrast to mine, which were unpainted and cut short. “It’s possible. But that’s a risk no matter what. Don’t you want to at least give Jackson a chance? I mean, if I had a guy who I’ve been crushing on for ages ask me out, I’d be too curious to resist.”
I blew out a long breath. She was right, I could get hurt. But that was a risk everyone took when it came to love. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” She put the notes back on the nightstand and scooted back into the pillows.
The couch over by the window was comfy and soft, but whenever Leighton was over, we always camped out on my bed, either to talk or gossip or watch TV. It was our spot.
“Mom and Dad are taking me out to dinner tonight. Want to come?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can’t. I, um . . . have a date.”
“What?” I yelled, nearly jumping to the ceiling. “With who? When?” Leighton hadn’t dated since high school, not since she’d been assaulted in college, and this
was a huge step for her.
Leighton smiled and looked to her lap. “Brendon Jacoby.”
“No way.” My mouth fell open. “How did that happen?”
She picked at one of her nails. “I ran into him at the grocery store last night. He was buying salsa, and I was buying tortilla chips. We met by the nacho cheese and got to talking. He’s having me over for tacos tonight.”
“Yes!” I clapped. “I’m so excited!”
I might not have liked Brendon for myself, but he was a nice guy and perfect for Leighton. He was cute, in a clean-cut, wholesome kind of way. He didn’t have the larger-than-life, drool-over-me presence that Jackson did, but when Brendon walked into a room, most women glanced his way.
“Me too.” Leighton worried her bottom lip and she was about to ruin her nails if she kept picking.
“I’m proud of you. Are you okay?”
“I’m really nervous,” she whispered. “I really like him.”
“Don’t worry,” I said gently. “Just be yourself and he’ll love you.”
“Thanks,” Leighton said with a sad smile. “What should I wear? Most of my stuff screams conservative English teacher. Not single lady who wouldn’t mind a french kiss for the first time in ages.”
I giggled. “Let’s go back to your place and we’ll find something.”
She slid off the bed and stared longingly at a dress I’d laid out over the couch to air-dry. “Our friendship would be so much more convenient if we were the same size.”
“Right?” Even as kids, the two of us had never been able to share clothes.
Leighton had gotten her build from her dad, who’d always reminded me of a real-life Paul Bunyan. She was a knockout with her rich, chocolate hair and feminine curves. She was five nine with legs that went on for days and a bust that not even two of my bras sewed together would support.
“I want something like that navy sundress.” She pointed to the dress I’d been wearing the night Jackson had kissed me on the swing set.
For the first time in our friendship, I was glad we couldn’t share clothes like a lot of other girls did. That dress would be for me, along with the memories that came with it. No matter how much time passed, it would always remind me of that night with Jackson, even if the memory had turned sour.
