Just One Day

by Sharla Lovelace

  “Jesse,” I said, trying to turn him by the arm.

  He didn’t budge, and the fear settled deep in my stomach. Swallowing my pride, I reached up for his face and felt the hard set of his jaw relax when I touched him. He stiffened a little as I turned him to me, closing his eyes, but not before I saw the beaten-down look in them.

  “Don’t—”

  “Shh,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest.

  It was a gamble, and I stood there terrified, praying it wouldn’t backfire. Loving how he felt against me, even with both of us soaking wet. Hoping to quell some of the despair I saw blanketing him. When I squeezed him tighter, something in him finally clicked, and his arms came around me. One hand twisted in my wet hair, and he pulled me tightly against him.

  It was more than a hug or an embrace. It was feeling life against life—somehow I knew that. It was proof that we weren’t dead. I could almost feel the pain coursing through him, and I wanted to fix it. To somehow take his pain this time. I suddenly couldn’t stand to know he was losing everything again.

  I felt him kiss the top of my head, and it was like a magnet, drawing me toward him. I lifted my face as he held my head and kissed slowly, softly down my nose to my lips and landed there with gentle kisses that started a warm burn in the tips of my fingers. It was right, and magical, and intoxicating, and when he pulled back to press his forehead against mine, I felt the withdrawals.

  His hands were on my face as he kissed my lips again and looked into my eyes with even more turmoil than before.

  “I can’t—”

  “What?” I breathed.

  He shook his head, not losing eye contact. “I can’t do this, Andie.”

  Not this again. “I’m not Brad,” I said. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t know about it, I swear—”

  He laid a finger on my lips and closed his eyes.

  “But you belong to him.”

  Every inch of my skin raised in goose bumps. When his eyes opened, the pain there was about me, not Beth, not his son, not the diner or Jarvis or May.

  “And I’m not that guy.” He ran the finger across my lips and down my cheek. “Brad Marcus is a snake and a liar and he doesn’t deserve you, but that’s not my call to make. You’re his woman.”

  He backed up a step and let his hands fall.

  “Please don’t do this,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. I knew he was right. I knew everything he said was logical. I knew I needed to find my own thoughts and figure out where my heart was and do it all in the right order. But right that second, logic wasn’t anywhere near me.

  There was a moment’s pause between us where everything stopped. And then he turned and walked around the bar and around the corner, not looking back.

  * * *

  Brad’s woman. I can’t brand you, but . . .

  I felt like I was back on that godforsaken boat again, wanting to throw up.

  I didn’t know what time it was anymore, and didn’t care. It didn’t matter. The one thing I knew with full clarity at that moment was that I was not anyone’s woman. And it had nothing to do with Jesse. He made it quite clear that I was tainted goods, and at the very least occupied goods, so that wasn’t even a deciding factor.

  I turned in a circle after he walked off, taking in the view, noting the rain had calmed to a sprinkle. The diner was out in the middle of nothing, with a flooded highway, but I had to wonder if someone was going to come check on him. Emergency vehicles or something. There had to be people around, or maybe they were all in the same state of hell we were.

  We. There was no we. It was just him. Because I was Brad’s woman, and that made me the Antichrist.

  Shreds of paper and cloth from God only knew where fluttered in the breeze left behind. The stairs were open and exposed, making my stomach clench to think of Jesse sitting there while a tornado destroyed everything around him. Where a back door once stood was now just a gaping hole into the ripped wall, and through it I could see the back storage building he had mentioned, sitting up higher than even the diner.

  I picked up the photo of Jesse’s family, with the crack across the middle, and carried it behind the bar. Finding a bare nail where a sign had been, I hung the picture next to Jarvis and May. Out of reach of the rain.

  Then I headed toward the back, toward his storage building. I had nothing else. Jesse didn’t want me there. I had no way to leave or navigable road to walk, although I could tell the water was receding with the slackening of the rain. I refused to be some pathetic female begging a man for anything, and I had nothing to beg for, anyway. I did nothing wrong. I never paid very close attention to Brad’s business dealings, not that he shared much of that with me. I never lied to Jesse about who I was seeing because we weren’t really talking about that. We were too busy talking about his dead wife and having sex on the floor.

  “Oh God,” I muttered, wiping unbidden tears away and blinking up at the sky to knock out any future ones. I was done with crying. I was tired. I was drained. I just wanted to go sit alone somewhere with a roof and have some peace. Get away from Jesse and his rant against me. And that wasn’t fair of me, I knew that. His rant had diminished the second we kissed again, and it was more about my belonging to the devil than what that devil had done to him. The storage building that he’d said was his boathouse looked still intact, ironically enough, so once I got through the door that no longer was, I traversed the walkway up to it.

  The wooden walkway was a little beaten up, but still good, and the building, though minus a door and a few shingles, looked no more than just a little wet. I walked in and strolled around to a nearby bench, inhaling the musty aroma of wet wood. Jesse’s boat was parked on a trailer, a canvas tarp stretched over the top and boat seats bulging underneath. The tarp looked old and worn in the stretched places, as if it hadn’t been taken off in a good while. I blew out an exhausted sigh as I settled onto the bench at the back of the room, behind the boat, surprised at how comfortable a wooden bench could be. I rolled my head back and forth on my shoulders with my eyes closed, trying to relax the day out of my knotted-up muscles. Who was I kidding? I’d need Brad’s masseuse to unbraid all those knots. Brad’s masseuse. Assuming I’d still be with him? I hugged my arms to myself, trying not to think about being in Jesse’s. That had been a mistake of monumental proportions. “What have you done, Andie?” I whispered. “How many lives did you screw up today?” I covered my face with my hands. “I had no business ever leaving home—coming here—damn it, I was so stupid.”

  I dropped my hands and opened my eyes to let them travel the room, but they didn’t make it far. The skin on my back started to tingle, spreading over my shoulders, arms and legs. My face went numb, and the italicized letters in front of me swam in wobbly lines.

  Just under where the edge of the tarp grasped the boat’s lip, painted in faded blue and white, was the word Beauty.

  * * *

  Sunlight poured through the building where the door once was, pulling me from the exhaustion-borne coma. I was confused—and sore. My back muscles protested as I moved to stretch, and my feet hit something solid as I attempted it.

  Something rough and net-like stuck to my face as I tried rolling over. I batted at it, meeting up with something soft and flat. And kind of smelly.

  “What the—” I mumbled, pushing the offending object away.

  I pried my eyes open, fighting against swollen eyelids and too much crying, and felt the previous day descend upon me.

  “Oh yeah,” I whispered to myself, and then focused on what was around me.

  I was in my dad’s old boat, which I vaguely remembered crawling into during a final meltdown of epic proportion. Pulling the tarp off and throwing it to the floor and throwing myself inside. My dad’s boat. That then evidently belonged to Jarvis and then Jesse. What were the odds? My dad had to be ecstatic that two men after him loved his baby as much as he did. And one was—

  “Good morning,” came Jesse’s voic
e from behind me. I jumped and everything rocked beneath me. I remembered that the boat and I were perched on a trailer so my hands shot out to steady everything. Or they tried to. One of them was trapped under a blanket.

  “Holy hell,” I said, pushing myself to a sitting position. And that’s when I saw Jesse. He was on the bench I’d occupied the night before, his head leaned up against the wall. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Jesse just moved his head back and forth in a slow acknowledgment. “Nothing. Interesting bed choice, though. Comfortable?”

  “No,” I said, grimacing as I tried to get in a more upright position. “But sleep wasn’t the intention.” I glanced down at the mildewed and partially dry-rotted life jacket I’d used as a pillow. I rubbed at my cheek. “I assure you.”

  The whole evening was hazy, like I’d dreamed it—a product of the extreme day we’d had. An extreme day that ended with my father’s old boat looking right at me.

  “Where did the blanket come from?” I asked as I pushed it off.

  “Me,” he said, as he got up slowly, creaking and popping as much as I had. “I have a couple that I keep in a bin back here. Probably not the cleanest.”

  I waved it off. “Neither am I,” I said, attempting humor that my newly pounding headache wasn’t buying into. “Thank you, though.” I looked him over as he leaned his elbows on the boat. “How long have you been in here?”

  He yawned and scrubbed fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Most of the night I guess.” He looked at me. “Came looking for you and found you asleep. Figured I’d stay with you.”

  His face was close enough to touch and I wanted to. He was scruffy and looking rough and tired and worried, but all I could think of was that he ended up with that boat and then he stayed with me all night while I slept. And a million other things that all led to the same place.

  I licked my dry lips. “This was my dad’s boat.”

  His eyebrows moved toward each other. “What?”

  I pointed down. “This boat. It has Beauty written on the back, and my initials scratched into the seat under—here.” I leaned over and ran a finger on the side of one of the bench seats.

  Jesse looked, and then met my eyes. “Seriously?”

  I chuckled. “Evidently Jarvis was the one who bought it from my mom, I just never met him.”

  “Damn,” he said, running a hand lovingly along the side. “That’s—” He looked to struggle with the word and met my gaze instead.

  “Fate?” I said.

  The longest moment of my life passed between us, while doors started opening. I felt it. The physical and emotional pull was too much to ignore. Decisions were clicking in my head, if only he’d click with me.

  “Hello?” boomed a voice from somewhere, startling us both back into reality.

  Jesse swiveled on his feet. “What the hell?”

  “Andie!” the voice said, making my stomach clench into steel. “Andie, are you here? Hello!”

  “Oh shit—” I breathed. I felt my eyes fill, and wondered why. “Oh no, it’s Brad.”

  Jesse looked over his shoulder at me as he leaned out to wave him over. It was a question. I shut my eyes, not wanting to go there yet. My time was up, and Brad had found me. He found me? Seriously? How the hell did he do that? I felt a fight-or-flight panic in my chest, knowing he was coming. Knowing Jesse would walk away. I knew it in my heart. Saw it in his face. We weren’t done—I needed more time with him.

  Brad’s presence, rushing through the opening in a blur of gray, was overwhelming. Gray slacks, gray shirt, even on the weekend, driving through God only knew what.

  “Andie! Holy shit, what happened to you?” he said, reaching in and hauling me out of the boat without a second look.

  “Um,” I began, a little unsteady on my feet.

  “Why are you in this old boat?” he said. “I heard about the storm—they had roads blocked off for hours this morning and just started letting people through.” He hugged me to him, and then pulled me back. “God, baby, are you okay? Wow, you need—a little cleanup,” he said on a chuckle.

  I frowned as I pulled away and walked past Jesse, through the doorway. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. Brad followed me.

  “I’m sure I do,” I said, pointing at the diner. “I was in there,” I said, looking into his eyes. “When that happened.”

  “Jesus,” Brad muttered. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Where is the car?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “It blew away,” I said.

  “It did what? The whole car?” he asked, looking bewildered.

  I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  To his credit, he only looked horrified for a second. “Oh my God,” he said, touching my face. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  I let go of the breath I’d held since he’d walked in the boathouse. “Jesse took care of me.” I watched Brad’s face for a reaction. “Do you know Jesse Montgomery?”

  Brad turned toward where Jesse had come outside and was leaning against the door frame. He held out a hand. “We’ve met,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for looking out for Andie.”

  Jesse stared a hole through him and slowly put his hand in Brad’s. “Not a problem,” he said, barely audible. “We looked out for each other.”

  My chin trembled as I watched him watch me. I swallowed hard to hide it and forced myself to move on. “How did you find me?” I asked, peering up at Brad.

  “GPS,” he said.

  I blinked. “What? GPS on what?”

  “Your phone,” he said, as if that were obvious.

  “My—you have GPS on my phone?”

  “We both have it, baby,” he said with a grin. “You can track me down, too.”

  I shook my head in awe. “I would never do that.”

  “Well, be glad I did,” he said, rubbing my arms as if I might be cold. “Otherwise I’d never have found you. You didn’t call me.”

  I gestured around me. “My phone blew away, too—or I thought it did.” I looked around. “Guess it didn’t.” I flopped my arms at my side in disbelief. “Whatever.”

  He put GPS on my phone. Un-freaking-believable. No wonder he gave me his car.

  “Sorry to see what happened here, man,” Brad said, oblivious to my disgust. “This is horrible.”

  Jesse nodded. “Yeah.”

  Having dispensed with obligation, Brad turned back to me and hugged me as he moved me along, clearly ready to get me home.

  “Um—wait,” I said, stopping and turning back. “Jesse—”

  I didn’t know what to say or what I could say. Brad was looking from me to Jesse, and waiting for me to come with him. But I couldn’t look away from Jesse. We weren’t done.

  Jesse moved his head nearly imperceptibly, but I caught it. It was a no. He was telling me that we were done, and to go back to my life. All that in one tiny head move.

  “No,” I whispered.

  But he did it for me. He walked past us without another look, and went back into the hell that was his new cross to bear.

  “Come on, baby,” Brad said. “Let’s go home.”

  Home.

  Let’s go home.