by Molli Moran
It’s Sloane, of course. Like a good best friend, she’s ignoring my lack of sleep or caffeine, and marching into the lion’s den. She saunters in, way more professional looking than me, in a blazer and slacks over a shirt that shows off her slender body. She plops down on my sofa and stares unblinkingly at me.
“What?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I heard you were at the Hay Loft last night with Jake.”
Ignoring her, I walk into the kitchen and finally get the sleep out of my eyes. I add some extra coffee, then start the machine, sighing happily when it makes the grumbling starting noise. Finally, I turn and face my best friend.
“What do you want to know?”
Sloane arches an eyebrow, waiting.
I resist the urge to snarl, since it’s Sloane, and I love her. “Fine.” I shift my weight nervously. “We saw a movie, and then I said I didn’t want to go home.”
Nodding, Sloane steeples her fingers under her chin. It’s such an “evil genius” move that I almost laugh, until she speaks. “Then what happened?”
This time, I do snarl, and squint at her. “We went to the Hay Loft.” Why is it so bright in here? “We kissed. Danced. Nolan was there. It gets a little fuzzy then.”
My coffee is finally ready, so I grab a mug from the cupboard. I’m grateful for the moment to gather my composure, as I fill my cup almost to the brim and then add a spoonful of sugar. I sip at the hot liquid, sighing gratefully. I’m not ready to deal with Sloane’s questions yet, because I did toss and turn last night. Every time I started to relax enough to sleep, I replayed the kiss, or how it felt to be on the receiving end of Jake’s adoration. How amazing I felt throughout the movie. How I wished it could be like that all the time.
When I finally lower my half-empty cup, Sloane is waiting calmly. I frown and look down at the counter, just to have something to do. That’s when I notice a folded piece of paper with my name on it in Jake’s handwriting. I unfold it and read it warily.
Claire,
I hope you’re feeling okay this morning. I didn’t want you to wake and panic, so I thought I’d tell you that I got you home okay from the Hay Loft. I didn’t realize you’d had too much to drink until right before you passed out. I’m sorry for that. Like I said, I brought you home, and got you inside. You woke up just as I got you into your room, so I laid you down, then told you goodnight. Oh and I got you some water in case you got thirsty.
I had a lot of fun last night, and I hope you did, too. Talk to you soon.
—Coop
I wordlessly hand the note to Sloane. Jake’s actions, combined with the fact he isn’t judging my behavior last night proves again he’s still the amazing guy I fell in love with years ago. Other guys wouldn’t have been as chivalrous last night, or as concerned about me today. Jake is, though. He took care of me last night when he didn’t have to. He refused to kiss me when I was tipsy. He got me home and in bed.
I didn’t know guys like him still existed.
He’s hazardous to my health and my heart, it seems. Between swooning over him and the way he makes my heart race, I’m gonna have to join a gym to get in better shape.
While Sloane reads the note, I check my phone. I also have a text from Jake. I read it twice, my heart fluttering wildly both times.
Morning, sweetheart. I left you a note. Call or text me when you’re up and feeling human. ;) I can’t wait to see you again.
“What do you want to hear, Sloane? That you’re right? That I dreamed about Jake? That I want more kisses like last night’s?” I shrug. “None of that matters.” I turn away and start loading the dishwasher, rattling the dishes with more force than necessary.
“Of course it matters.”
I spin toward her, even though it’s all I can do to keep tears from my eyes. “No. It doesn’t, because when this is all over, nothing will have changed. We’ll just be Sophie and Jake, and all this—” I make a gesture I know won’t truly encompass everything I’m feeling—“will just be…gone.” My heart is pounding.
“And you’ll pick up the pieces again.” She’s right in front of me now, her beautiful dark eyes fixed on me. I can’t bear the weight I see there. “And I’ll help you, because that’s what friends do.” She takes my hand, squeezing. “Soph… I’ve seen you here before. You get your hopes up over Jake, and then even if he doesn’t realize it, he lets you down. It’s a cycle I’ve never liked, despite loving you both dearly. And I just don’t want to see you go through it again.”
“But I will.” My shoulders slump as I lean against the counter. “Sloane, I love him. I’ve loved every version of him. I’m not sure who I’d be if I didn’t love him.”
“And that’s part of the problem.”
“I know,” I say sharply. I try to smile at her, but it breaks slowly, like a crack spreading through splintered glass. “I know, Sloane. I know you’re worried about me getting caught up in all of this…and I know I probably will. I know I already am.” My mouth trembles with the continued effort to hold back tears. “I’m trying to keep everything compartmentalized, but I’m not sure I can. And if I can’t, then that’s a risk I’ll take. If a few weeks is all I get with Jake, then it’s worth the tears I’ll cry when we end. He’s worth it all.”
Sloane is silent once I stop speaking. I hear her draw a breath as if she might say something, but I have my head bowed, so I can’t read her expression. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed in me, or sad for me, or upset. I stand there with all my broken pieces, all the little shards I’ve never shown anyone. When Sloane wraps her arms around me, I’m too stunned to do anything other than hug her. After a few seconds, I hold on as though my life depends on it.
And maybe it does.
___ ___ ___
When I get to Freshly Ground for the afternoon shift, I dive into work. I’m working with Brenna and Mina today, and I’m glad. We’ve all hung out after work several times now, and I adore them both. Mina quietly asks if I’m okay, and when I just shake my head, she and Brenna let me do my own thing. The place isn’t busy yet because we’re between the morning and afternoon rushes, so I gather some cleaning supplies and work on cleaning the booths and tables.
Later, Brenna comes over and helps. We chat about work, and she entertains me with funny stories about her boyfriend. I’m quiet, but Brenna fills in the silences when I can’t. I love that about Bren. She’s always doing what she can to put others at ease. She’s always cheerful and she loves uplifting others. I’ve yet to see her have a bad day or really lose her temper. I’m sure it happens, but it has to be rare. Our text conversations are hilarious thanks to her, and she’s got a filthy mind, just like me. We get along better than I ever would have expected.
It’s a relief to just be able to listen to her. I’m scrubbing the tables harder than necessary, but if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. I can tell she’s worried by the line between her auburn brows, but I know she’ll wait for me to open up to her, whether that’s today, tomorrow, or next week. Brenna doesn’t push me. She waits, and it’s a good thing she’s willing to, because I wouldn’t know where to start.
I feel fragile. Like those cracks from earlier are yawning through my limbs and heart. Something changed between Jake and me last night, even if it was only on my part. I wasn’t just flirting to keep up our cover. I didn’t kiss him for the audience. I wanted to flirt. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to stay out late after the movie, because I didn’t want the night to end. All this began as a safe way of getting out of Mama’s matchmaking, but after talking with Sloane, I can’t deny what I’ve been hiding: I want this to be real.
More than anything.
And that scares the hell out of me.
I’m shaking when I take my break. I tear a napkin to shreds while I sit perched on the edge of a booth. I’m scared Jake will come out and talk to me. I’m scared he won’t. Finally, my break ends, and I rush back. At least when I’m working, I can take my mind off of everything. If I stay busy e
nough, I won’t think about how I’m setting myself up for heartbreak. And how I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Hey slacker.”
I jump when I realize I’ve just been staring into space between customers, during the first lull in about two hours. I open my mouth to apologize, but then I recognize the teasing tone.
“Cassidy!” I haven’t seen my sister since our family dinner. I’m working and staying so busy that I’ve…well, I’ve neglected her and the rest of my family. And my songwriting. And everything that isn’t Jake.
My little sister smiles at me, her blue eyes warm. “I figured I’d come see you when I got out of school. Mama said I could hang out here and do some homework…” Her gaze slides to the side, and I follow it. There’s a very cute teenage boy sitting all alone at a table for two.
“Why Cassidy Adele Wright,” I say, pitching my voice low. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” she hisses at me. Two bright splotches of color flare up in her cheeks. “Not yet at least.” She shifts her weight. “Besides, Sophie, I’m seventeen now.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were just a toddler yesterday, and I bet this boy would love to hear some of those stories.”
Cassidy leans over the counter. “Nooooo.” She lets out a low moan, while I laugh. Slowly, the color fades from her face. “You’re just teasing me.”
Nodding, I kiss her cheek. “Of course I’m teasing you. Now what do you want to drink?”
She orders a hot chocolate and I hum to myself as I make it. Being around my sister always cheers me up. She’s such a force to be reckoned with that I can’t help but be happy around her.
“Here you go.” I hand Cassidy her drink. “I’m really glad you came by, Cass. Now that I’m home, I want us to hang out at least once a week…but for now, go ‘study’,” I say.
Cassidy walks to The Boy's table, but then winks at me. I watch them talk for a moment before I get back to work. I’ve visited as much as I could over the last few years, but most of Cassidy’s teenage years, it was just her, Mama, and Dad. Mama sheltered her because Cassidy was her last daughter, but I’m really proud of my sister. She’s a great kid, and I envy her. Her first big crush. Maybe her first boyfriend and first love.
I hope she has a lot of huge crushes, a lot of boyfriends, or boys who are friends, and kisses, and confidence. I wouldn’t change my life for anything, but giving Jake my heart at an early age and never getting it back definitely changed my teenager years. Now this situation has spun me again.
I don’t know what to do, but I know myself well enough to realize I was honest this morning with Sloane. However this ends, I’m all in from now to the finish.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m happy we did this. Seeing you at Freshly Ground isn’t enough.” Jake grins at me.
Am I still anchored to the ground? Or am I floating toward the ceiling, drunk on his words? I want to tell him I live for our stolen glances at work, our nightly text conversations, the words I say, and the ones I don’t. I feel like I’m barely breathing tonight, except for the seconds I steal when he isn’t looking at me. The rest of the time, I’m too caught up in drinking in Jake: his smiles, his laugh, his words. I’m toeing the edge of a precipice, staring over the drop and not really caring if I fall.
Instead, I only say, “It isn’t enough for me either.”
I accidentally clank the silverware together before I finally set it on his table. It’s been a little over two weeks since the bonfire at the Hay Loft—or, as I keep thinking about it, the night I completely embarrassed myself. Knowing he took care of me changed something. Since then, Jake’s been seeking me out after work at night, and I’ve been leaving to avoid him. Mina has covered for me, making up excuses, but word is starting to spread about us being a couple, and I know she thinks I’m acting insane.
And I am. Texting Jake, talking to him until one in the morning most nights, and then refusing to set a time for a date. I haven’t even broached the topic of a “break up” with him, even though I keep telling myself I will. Mama asked me to invite him over for dinner again this weekend, and I’m torn. On one hand, I can’t refuse to invite him, because she’ll want to know why. On the other hand, I’m not sure it’s safe to let her, Dad, and Cassidy grow any more enchanted with the idea of us together when I know there’s an expiration date on our relationship.
“You’re too serious, Claire.”
I raise my head to speak, but close my mouth, because how the hell am I supposed to even begin to say what’s on my mind? I like you for real. I want to be with you for real. Yes, I realize it’s totally one-sided.
Jake’s eyes narrow. He turns away long enough to stir something on the stove, but his voice reaches me. “You know, you can tell me if something is wrong. I want to know. I want you to trust me enough to tell me.”
While I’m setting the table, I sigh slowly. “I do trust you.”
“Then what? Is it work? No one’s bothering you, are they?” He faces me, his face darkening.
Waving my hands in front of my face, I shake my head. “No, no. I love everyone. Mina and Brenna are awesome, and the rest of the staff is good, too. Those are just the ones I’ve gotten close to.” I take a gulp of my water. “Work is fine.”
“So…” He frowns.
He’s being completely genuine, which hits me hard. He really does care what goes on in my life. I matter to him, so I can’t shut him out. Even though losing this will hurt, I do want to preserve our friendship. I have to trust him.
Suddenly, tears flood my eyes. “I just have a lot on my mind. I’m really happy here, but I miss living in Nashville. I miss—” I fumble for words. “I miss walking on Broadway at night. I miss going to a different restaurant every night. I miss having songwriting partners. And I’m worried that being here…that I’ll get stuck, and forget to follow my dreams.”
I’m being honest with him. Each word is a battle, because I do miss Nashville. It’s a city so alive, that people who haven’t been there can’t even imagine. Sure, there are bad elements, but I loved living there. I felt electric most nights. Leaving has been good for me in away, but it’s also heartbreaking. I don’t miss some things—Gideon, Mara, being flat broke—but I miss the rush of sharing a new song with my writing group. I miss getting together in Brandon’s tiny apartment and sewing words together into a chorus or a bridge. I miss having so much at my fingertips.
I keep thinking I’ll simply wake up and find the answers staring me in the face. Instead, I end up more confused each day. I’ve never been happier in some aspects, but I’ve never been more mixed up in others.
“Hey,” Jake says. I glance at him. “Remember Mrs. Moore’s class, eighth grade? Remember when she had us all write a short essay on what we wanted to be when we grew up?”
I snort. “I remember. I think I wrote yours.”
“Not the point.” He sprinkles some pepper in his sauce. “I think I said doctor, or traveler, or astronaut. I was obviously undecided. But you wrote that you wanted to be a songwriter. You said…” He squints at me, thinking, then smiles. “You said you wanted to sing and write songs people would remember. Songs that would touch hearts and lives.”
I can’t help but gasp. “You remember something I wrote when I was thirteen?”
He stares at me for a long moment, but I can’t read his eyes. They’re intense, but the emotions are too numbered to pinpoint. “I remember everything about you, Claire.” Jake waves away his words as if they’re pesky flies, but I’m trying to hold back more tears. “Point is, you already knew what you wanted to be, and you’ve never wavered. I think you’re the last person to worry that you won’t follow your dreams. You’ll chase them until they fall over from exhaustion and come true.”
My I hiccup turns into a laugh. My carefully locked away tears escape, trickling slowly toward freedom, but before they can go far, Jake leans toward me. I take a hitching breath as he uses his thumbs to slowly wipe away
my tears. He smiles at me, so I smile in return, and that causes a few more to fall. He doesn’t leave, just flicks the wetness away like it’s something he’ll always be here to do.
“There.” He moves his hands away and only then do I realize he was cupping my face. His warmth lingers on my skin. “You should never cry. I mean, it brings out your eyes, but I can’t stand to see you sad, sweetheart.”
Since I don’t know how to react, or how to even speak, I just sit there silently. He washes his hands and then goes back to cooking. I’m glad he offered to make dinner tonight, because I am not skilled in the kitchen.
I sit awkwardly at the table for a few minutes until he asks me to check on the garlic bread. I’m glad for something to do, even if it’s just taking bread out of the oven. I’m not sure how to follow his speech, or if I even can. Knowing he believes in me that much is astounding. I’ve always had my family’s support, and my friends, but for a huge part of my life, Jake was one of my best friends. There was a part of me he just got, without it ever having to be said. Before I ever loved him, he was the boy who taught me how to play football with the guys, who helped me rehearse lines when I wanted to try out for the school play.
“So,” I say finally, “how are you parents?”
Smiling, Jake dishes pasta onto our plates. He’s made homemade spaghetti using fresh ingredients, and it smells amazing. “They’re good. We all have dinner together once a week or so. Last time, even Graham showed.” Jake’s smile deepens and his dimples appear. “After dinner, we all played basketball. Logan and I teamed up against Nolan and Graham, and as predicted, they beat us.”
“I bet you guys were great.”
“I don’t know about great, but we did okay. Logan and I are more suited for football or baseball. Graham and Nolan have a few inches on us, so they can make those shots I can’t.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, thoroughly mussing it. “I’m just so damn lucky they’ll all have anything to do with me.”
