by Magan Vernon
“Y-y-you can’t just expect to come back, and me let you in,” I said with as much courage as I could muster. My body trembled against his. One part of me wanted to push him away, but a much bigger part wanted to succumb to his embrace.
“I’m not expecting anything from you. I just hope you’ll let me try.”
Before I could even answer, he sealed his lips against mine, and my whole body responded with an explosion. I moved my hands to run my fingers through his damp hair, and he pressed his arms around my lower back, pulling me up as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
His tongue moved in delicately slow motion behind my lips as if he was savoring me. He moved our intertwined bodies forward, pressing my back against the rock wall again, and I felt his hardness against my stomach. No matter how badly I wanted him, I had to stop. I wasn’t about to have our first time together be in a pond. Who knew what kind of bacteria was in there? That, and I was pretty sure if my mom told him I was out here, then she would eventually come looking for us.
I tilted my head back, which only led Jordan’s lips to trail down my neck and his tongue to slide against my collarbone.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered. “Not here. Not ever maybe.”
“You can’t deny this, Abbey,” he murmured against my neck.
“But what if we try this, and then you leave again? Then what?” I asked, without thinking and putting it all out there. Letting my vulnerability show.
I looked back down, meeting his pleading eyes. His breath came out small and ragged, and then a large smile crossed his face as he pressed his forehead to mine. “This time, I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Chapter 6
I went to bed smelling like pond water and Jordan. I probably should have showered, but in the old house, my mom would have heard the shower going from her bedroom, and I didn’t want to have that conversation. And as gross as it was, I didn’t want to wash off his scent.
My dreams that night were filled with visions of a life in which Jordan never left. We would spend our nights at the pond, and in my dreams, I didn’t push him away but gave in to the temptation. Gave in to all of him.
In my dreams, we were more than an artist in Brooklyn and a school photographer. We had our own studio and apartment, living out our wildest fantasies and biggest dreams. But it was all just a dream.
My phone rang way too early the next morning; especially since I didn’t get back home until way after the sun went down. I only answered it because I thought it could be Jordan. My number hadn’t changed since high school, so maybe he remembered it.
I stretched my arms over my head and rolled over, unlocking my phone and sliding it up to my ear. “Mmm, morning gorgeous.”
“Well, that’s a greeting I don’t often get.”
I sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. It wasn’t Jordan calling but Joey. Joey the ex.
“Well, you know I have to mix it up a bit, heh.” I tried saving my ass, and he seemed to go with it.
“Yeah, I guess that works. Say, what are you doing today? Want to hang out?”
No, I didn’t really want to hang out. “Joey, you know we’re not together, and I have to help my mom with Sofie’s shower stuff at Conti’s.”
“Well, maybe Saturday. You know since Teagan said you’re going to come meet us out there now. I could drive even.”
“What the fuck, Joey? You broke up with me because you said you got some girl pregnant. Why are you even calling me? And why are you talking to Teagan?” I yelled, still hoarse from just waking up.
“Hey, easy, okay? First off, Teagan and I are friends. Just like you and me and Christy and Marcus. And everyone else from our high school group. Secondly, I talked to the girl last night, and she said she actually wasn’t pregnant. Just stress or some shit from school and her internship. The point is, talking to her made me realize what I was missing with you. That, and you know, Teagan says Jordan Webber’s been hanging around. So if you want to make him jealous, you know where to find me.”
I groaned. “Goodbye, Joey.”
I hung up the phone and let it go to voicemail when he called back. This was way too early in the morning to think about Joey and Jordan, and I needed coffee before any of it.
By the time I was dressed and downstairs, Mom was already at work, but Dave sat at the kitchen counter, sipping his morning cup of coffee. At least he was dressed in black pants and a white button-down instead of his usual sweatpants.
“Abbey, you’re up. Great,” he said all too gleefully.
“Uh. Yeah. Thought I’d be the only one home. Not working today?” I asked, grabbing a coffee mug from the hook under the counter before pouring myself a cup.
Dave and I didn’t talk much, if ever. And I was perfectly okay with that. Not that Dave was a bad guy, quite the opposite actually. Especially since my asshole of a dad decided to cheat on my mom then move on with his new wife and have another kid in Dallas. I met my new little brother once, right when he was born, and didn’t exactly feel comfortable in the room with my dad, beauty queen wife number two, and a crying baby who was then shoved on wife number two’s nipple while we all sat there in awkward silence.
“Oh. I’m not working until tonight. Wedding rehearsal then the reception tomorrow night so I can help out with Sofie’s party during the day,” Dave said.
“Oh. Cool,” I replied, pouring a generous amount of creamer and hoping that was the end of our conversation. I figured since I wasn’t working today, I’d watch some YouTube tutorials on editing and maybe drive by the Keller place to see if they needed coffee. Or, you know, Jordan was there and needed a vagina on his face. Either way.
I was just about to go back upstairs to sip my coffee and at least to pretend to edit and not think about Jordan when Dave started talking.
“So it’s good you’re here. I’ve been meaning to chat with you anyway. Want me to make breakfast?” he asked, sitting up and tucking and untucking his shirttails.
“No. No breakfast. Coffee is just fine.” I took a sip, focusing on the inside of my mug instead of him burning my eggs.
“Okay. Wanna have a seat at the breakfast bar then? Or we can go out to the living room or dining room or wherever you’re comfortable,” he said, raking his fingers through his thick, gray hair.
While my dad was balding, Dave had a full head of hair and a five o’clock shadow. He was every fifty-sixty-year-old woman’s silver fox dream.
“Here at the breakfast bar is fine. I guess.” I tentatively sat at the wooden barstool next to the one he’d just stood from.
What could this guy want to talk to me about? All those old teen movies from the 90s didn’t prepare me for this. They only prepared me for extremely dorky stepdads or mean stepmothers. While Dave wasn’t the coolest guy around, he was nice, and he treated my mom like a queen, which she seriously deserved.
“So how are things at the bakery? Busy in the summer?” Dave asked, taking the seat next to me and folding his hands together on the counter in front of him.
“Um, I don’t want to be rude, but if you want to small talk, can we do this later? I kind of have a thing,” I lied, thinking I just wanted to get whatever this was over with so I could get on with my day.
Dave blew out a breath. “Right. Okay.”
He nodded then put his hands out, only to fold them again. “Well, as you know, your mother and I have been together for about a year. The next step in our relationship was obviously to move in together, but now, I think it’s time to take the next step after that.”
I widened my eyes and stared at Dave. “You’re not talking about giving me another half-brother are you?”
He laughed slightly. “No. No more babies around here—besides Sofie’s, of course.”
“Okay.” I nodded then took a sip of my coffee, unsure of what I was going to say.
Dave raked his fingers through his hair. “What I’m trying to say is that I want to ask your mom to marry me, and I want your blessing.”
He winced. “Well, that’s not the reaction I was expecting.”
I put my mug down on the counter and waved my hands in front of my face. “No, I didn’t mean that. I think it just surprised me. You know, I didn’t think you two were going in that direction. Or whatever. I guess I’m not sure how older relationships progress or something.” I found myself babbling, so I picked my coffee mug back up and took a long sip.
Dave smiled. “Well, I think like any relationship, when you know, you just know. And I love your mother, and nothing would make me happier than to ask her to be my wife, and I hope she says yes.”
I nodded. “Well, I guess if you put it that way, then I can’t say no, can I?”
He laughed. “I mean, you can. I can’t say I’d be happy about it, but I’d respect that decision.”
I nodded. “You’re an all right guy; you know that, Dave? Not many guys would ask their girlfriend’s daughter before proposing.”
He smiled. “I try to be.”
“So … where’s the ring, and when are you planning to ask her?”
“The ring’s in the safe at work. I know your mother likes to take inventory of everything in this house, so I left it there. The plan is, after the craziness of Sofie’s baby shower winds down, I’ll have her meet me at the hotel next week for dinner. I’ll have the table set up by the pool at sunset and propose then.”
I put my hand to my chest. “Aww. Dave, that sounds super sweet.”
“She deserves it,” he replied. “So do you and Sofie. You all deserve happiness and a guy who treats you to all the flowers and romance you deserve.”
I thought about what Dave had said about flowers and romance. I hadn’t had any of that in well, ever. Not with Jordan in high school since we were both broke kids and not with Joey. Maybe Dave was right; maybe I did deserve that, and I wasn’t sure if Jordan or Joey were the guys to give it to me.
***
I found myself pulling my car into the gravel driveway of the Keller place that started this whole situation.
A week ago, my life was set. I had a boyfriend, sort of, who promptly dumped me, and a job that wouldn’t start again until the school year, but the bakery and some newborn sessions would help. I didn’t have rent or a future stepdad or an ex coming back into the picture and making me question everything.
A few different cars sat near the dilapidated barn, and one I recognized had me stopping in my tracks.
The green Honda might now have New York plates on it, but I’d recognize that car with the “Make Art, not War” bumper sticker anywhere. The same car I lost my virginity in sophomore year. I know, super romantic and also super uncomfortable since we were both tall and lanky and had trouble fitting in the back seat. Probably why he ended up finishing on my elbow.
“Brings back some old memories, doesn’t it?”
I gasped, almost jumping back a foot when I heard the low timbre of Jordan’s voice.
I looked up, all the way from the compass tattoo on his toned calf to the shorts that hung low off his hips. And of course, he had to be sweaty and not wearing a shirt. Damn, his body didn’t look like that in high school. And even though he was pressed against me last night, seeing all his toned and tan flesh had me holding back a gulp.
Now, how in the hell was I going to tell him I wanted something real?
“You know you don’t have to just stare.” He took a few steps closer and leaned in, his lips to my ear. “You can touch too.”
Instead of being able to respond with something snarky, the sound of the screen door slamming behind us caused us to both jump back and whirl around to face the front porch.
An older woman with a large sunhat and overalls stood on the porch with her hands on her wide hips. “Jordan! Is this the gal you’ve been going and getting that fancy coffee from to see every morning?”
Her accent definitely wasn’t Southern, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Yeah, Aunt Bev, this is Abbey. The girl I went to high school with.” Jordan smiled, looking over at me, but I smirked in return. Just the girl from high school? That was one way to put it.
“Well, if you’re going to try to impress this girl, invite her inside. Honestly, I don’t know how Ma stood this Texas heat for so long,” Aunt Bev said, fanning herself with one hand and motioning to us with her other.
“You wanna come inside? You can say no, and I can meet you somewhere if you want,” Jordan offered.
I shrugged. “Well, I guess here is as good as any place to hang out. Not much else in Friendship.”
“I’m sure we could find a place to sneak away to,” he whispered, leaning so close that his stubble tickled my jawline.
“Y’all, get your asses inside. We don’t want the air going to the neighbors,” a deep Southern drawl sang, and I saw another woman who looked like a smaller and scrappier version of Aunt Bev.
“We’re coming, Aunt Lynn,” Jordan grumbled.
“Do you want me to follow you or make an excuse?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed. “We’ve been outed now, so you might as well come in and drink my aunt’s Yankee lemonade.”
The house wasn’t in much better shape than the day of the estate sale. Random piles of his grandma’s wares were still everywhere, and the only thing that looked any different was a new door leading from the dining room to the kitchen, which I’m guessing was the one Jordan had talked about replacing.
A folding table sat in the once formal dining room with the long buffet table. On top of the folding table was a pitcher of bright yellow lemonade and some random “reduced to clear” pastry boxes.
“You’re the first friend who’s come around here to see Jordan,” Aunt Bev said, pouring a couple of plastic glasses of lemonade. “I’m his Aunt Bev, and this nosy lady is Aunt Lynn.”
“I ain’t nosy. You’ve just been out of the South for far too long,” Aunt Lynn said, slapping Aunt Bev’s arm.
“Aunt Bev, Aunt Lynn, this is Abbey, again, even though I introduced y’all outside,” Jordan said, pointing in my direction.
I shook both the aunts’ hands, and their eyes trailed over me. Aunt Lynn turned toward Jordan, raising an eyebrow. “Is this that Abbey girl you took to prom? The one your mama thought would keep you here instead of running off to New York?”
Jordan smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yep. She’d be the one.”
“Well, Lordy girl, why are you even talking to this lummox? I wouldn’t give him the time of day if he’d left me for art school,” Aunt Lynn said, resting her elbow on Jordan’s shoulder even though she had to stand on her tippy toes to do it.
“I have a certain charm about me,” Jordan said with a grimace.
“Yeah, a charm that equals you putting a shirt on. Nobody wants to see that. At least, not your aunts,” Aunt Bev said, tossing Jordan a plain black t-shirt that he reluctantly put on.
“So, uh, where’s the rest of your family? The ones who were all here at the sale on Saturday?” I asked, changing the subject.
Aunt Bev smiled. “Our brother, Jordan’s dad, ran into town. We’re trying to go through more stuff this week before I have to head back to Illinois for work. But don’t worry, Jordan will be here a while. As long as he doesn’t go running back to that hussy in New York.”
I widened my eyes, and Aunt Lynn smacked Aunt Bev. “Bev, you shouldn’t be telling the girl about her. Besides, she was a bitch. Remember her at Thanksgiving? She wouldn’t eat any of our food because she was on some weird diet and only drank from that blue bottle.”
Jordan was home for Thanksgiving? What else did he come home for and never tell me? Especially about a girlfriend.
“And on that note, I think we’re going to take this lemonade to go, and Abbey’s going to help me in the shed,” Jordan said, grabbing two cups of lemonade.
“Suit yourself, honey. It’s hotter than the dickens out there. Bu
t keep your clothes on! Wouldn’t want that old thing to collapse on y’all and have to meet your maker butt ass naked,” Aunt Lynn called as Jordan practically pushed me out of the house.
“Sorry about them,” Jordan muttered as we walked in step to the shed.
“They were no problem at all. Though they did bring up some interesting things …”
Jordan sighed, opening the door of the shed that was practically falling off the hinges.
The inside didn’t smell or look any better than the outside. Though it had potential with the tall beams and a hayloft overlooking what had to be at least two thousand square feet of straw-ridden room.
A large table—well, more like a big piece of plywood held up by two sawhorses—sat in the middle of the big barn with random odds and ends on top of it. Jordan sat on a wooden stool behind the table and picked up a small silver object. “I guess you’re going to ask now about the ex?”
“Well, it wasn’t going to be my first question,” I said, sitting on the wooden stool opposite him, hoping it wouldn’t break with how flimsy it looked.
Jordan smirked. “I guess I didn’t wait around for you to show up in New York either, though I’m not going to lie, I did for a few years. I thought maybe after you graduated, you’d show up in Brooklyn and we’d be reunited. But after years of that, I thought I could move on.”
“Did you seriously think I would just show up? How would I even find you? You’re not on Facebook.”
Jordan blew out a breath through his nose, picking up a set of pliers from the table and picking at the silver object. “Not everyone needs Facebook. And my phone number never changed.”
“Mine didn’t either, and you never used it.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the pliers. “Fair enough. I should have been the one to call you, but I was scared as hell of your reaction. I left, and you didn’t take it in the best way, so what was I going to say?”
