by Barbara Gee
I sent my answer.
Me: I’d like that. I think.
He sent a smiley face, then told me he’d be working at the company’s Hidden Creek office in the morning and would swing by my house at one o’clock to pick me up.
Me: OK. See you then.
I sat there by the window second-guessing myself for half an hour, then realized I would’ve done that either way. If I had told JP no, I’d no doubt be kicking myself hard for passing up the chance to see him again.
I got up and took my empty mug to the kitchen. Dread warred with excitement as I turned off the lights and dragged my weary self to bed.
So long, Christmas Day. It’s been good. Maybe…just maybe, tomorrow will be even better.
Chapter 9
“W
hat do you mean you’re going to Caldwell with JP today?” Ava asked when I called her after breakfast and blurted it out. “How in the world did that happen?”
“We were texting last night and he asked—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted. “What do you mean you were texting? Since when do you and JP text?”
“We only have a couple times.”
“A couple times? You’ve been texting JP and haven’t told me?”
“It was just one text way back before your party, and then last night I wished him Merry Christmas, and out of the blue he asked if I’d go along to Caldwell to see the house that was donated to Jenna’s organization.”
“Oh my word, I don’t believe this. You do realize this means you’re going to be with him for a minimum of a few hours, right? And there will be a lot of driving time with just him and you. You’re going to have to talk to him, you can’t just sit there in silence.”
“Yes, I do realize that, and I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I said bluntly.
“No, no, no, this is a good thing,” Ava said, warming to the idea now that the shock had worn off. “I’ve been telling you for months that you two need to have a heart-to-heart, and this could be the time. I’m shocked that you agreed to go, but I’m so proud of you. You’re finally facing him and that’s exactly what needs to happen.”
“Actually I’m thinking of cancelling,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I can do this. Besides, we already talked once. I told you about that. Maybe that’s enough.”
“Pretty sure it wasn’t enough, but it obviously made you want to see him again, so it was a good start. Now spend some time with him and see what happens. Even if you don’t end up talking about the baggage you’re both lugging around, just being together for a while might do you good.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know, Ava. I feel myself getting pulled right back into the JP Keller vortex. I barely survived the first time, and now here I go again, setting myself up for another wild, painful ride. How stupid is that?”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” she said soothingly. “You’re only testing the waters, not diving in. You’re wiser this time. You can escape the vortex if you need to.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Just take it slow. Be cautious, but don’t pull back completely. I mean, if nothing else, maybe you two can at least bury the hatchet enough to be friends. Even that would be an improvement, right?”
I gave a humorless laugh. “I’m afraid JP and I can never be just friends. He’s got this hold on me, you know? I can’t even look at him without wishing he was mine again. Being in the friends-only zone would be too painful if I’m always going to want him like that.”
Ava chuckled. “You basically just admitted you think there’s a chance you can have him…. like that.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said, confused.
“Oh but you did. You said you have no interest in being casual friends with him, and yet you willingly agreed to ride along to Caldwell. In other words, you hope spending time with JP leads to something else.”
Her knowing words made me wince. “Well, whatever I’m doing, I’m most likely setting myself up for a huge letdown. It’s stupid. I need you to tell me not to go.”
Her voice softened, the teasing note gone. “If I thought it was stupid I’d beg you to cancel. I’d do anything to protect you from getting hurt all over again. But JP is a good man. He is. He made a mistake and he’s owned it, but I truly believe he’s never stopped loving you.”
“That’s a stretch,” I said quickly, because I was trying to temper my expectations, not grow them. “Besides, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe he doesn’t remember sleeping with Haley. It seems way too convenient.”
“Okay, let me ask you this, Myla. When you were together, did you have any doubts whatsoever about how JP felt? Did you have a single reason to question whether he loved you as much as you loved him?”
“No.” I didn’t even have to think about my answer. Up until the very end, I’d felt completely secure in our relationship.
“Then here’s my next question. What’s harder to believe…that the man who loved you like that—your soulmate—would go out and make a conscious decision to cheat on you, or that he was out drinking with his high school buddies and had a drunken one-night stand that he doesn’t even remember?”
When I didn’t respond, she gently added, “Taking everything into consideration, I think he got drunk and made a huge mistake. And if he says he doesn’t remember it, I believe him.”
***
If anything, my talk with Ava made me feel more stressed about going to Caldwell with JP in a few hours, not less. Slowly but surely I was opening myself up to the possibility of reviving our relationship, but that made me feel vulnerable. Scared. What if that wasn’t what JP wanted at all? What if his end goal was as simple as us getting used to being around each other so it wouldn’t be awkward when we attended the same events?
But, if that was all he wanted, would he have checked his phone fifty times yesterday hoping to hear from me?
As the morning passed I felt hope growing fast and unstoppable. My caution evaporated and all I could think about was being with JP again. Was there really a chance he still wanted me after all this time? After I’d run away and refused to hear him out? After I believed everything Haley said without even getting his side of it?
Could he forgive me for that?
I tried to think of what we could do better this time around—if it came to that. Had our love flamed up too hot and too fast last time? There had certainly been points in the relationship when I’d feared it was all too good to be true. We met, felt an instant attraction, had our first date, and spent pretty much every free waking hour together from that day on. Our love had developed fast—we couldn’t stop it or slow it down and we didn’t want to. JP had told me he loved me three weeks and three days after we met, and I hadn’t questioned it because I felt exactly the same way.
Even our skeptical families were won over because it was so obvious what we had was the real thing. Not because we indulged in PDA and fawned over each other, because we didn’t. We kept the physical part of our relationship to ourselves. But it was like my mom told me once, shortly before we broke up. She said if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought JP and I had been together for years rather than months. She’d never seen a young couple so completely attuned to each other after such a short time.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that JP could always make her laugh and treated us both like queens. His mother had raised a gentleman, that was for sure. He was also great with my dad. They’d go out to Dad’s wood shop and mess around for hours. Together, they’d made a fancy set of bookshelves for me and a big wall organizer for Mom’s sewing room. Dad had enjoyed teaching JP the finer points of woodworking, especially because my brother had never shown any interest.
Looking back, I felt so bad about my selfish reaction to our breakup. I’d been so consumed with my own pain I’d been incapable of seeing theirs. I didn’t even tell them what happened. All I could think about was running away so I could rebuild my life around more than a fantasy. Be
cause surely that’s all it had been. If JP had loved me like I’d thought, he would’ve never done something so vile.
I chose the army as my escape route, and in the end, my parents had lost me and a man they’d grown to care about.
I poured a cup of coffee and went to my desk in the back room, intending to sort through my mail and pay some bills. But thanks to Ava’s phone call and the things she’d said, I couldn’t seem to draw my mind out of the past. It all weighed so heavily, diverting my focus from the mundane tasks.
With a resigned sigh I sat back in my chair, hesitantly opening myself to the memories I’d spent years suppressing. If I was going to learn from my mistakes, I had to go back to those memories. Especially to the worst one—the day of Haley’s visit. Which had ended up being the last day I’d spoken to JP.
I’d gone to him right after she left my office, a triumphant smirk on her red lips. I’d told Maxine I was taking the rest of the day off and I’d driven straight to the Owens Construction office building to confront JP with what Haley had said. I couldn’t wait for him to tell me she was spouting lies.
He’d looked shocked, then he’d gone pale. I waited for him to deny it. I was desperate for him to do so. But he didn’t. He tried to explain it, which I had no interest in hearing…but he didn’t deny it.
Guilty. That was my judgment, and just like that I was done. I’d left his office as abruptly as I’d appeared and right then I’d begun making plans to flee. I didn’t want to be in the same town as JP Keller, or even the same state.
Three days later I’d gone to the nearest recruiting office and set things in motion.
JP tried to get me to talk to him but I refused to answer his calls and deleted his texts without reading them. That’s how furious I was. Finally, I blocked his number. He probably thought he’d eventually wear me down, but that was before I’d surprised him by leaving town.
After I finished boot camp, he’d tracked me down and flown to my base in Arizona. Twice. Both times he’d somehow gotten the soldiers on duty at the gate to call and tell me he was there, but I refused to go sign him in. How long had he waited, hoping I’d change my mind?
All these years later, regret hit me hard. Why hadn’t I let him tell his side of the story? If I’d known the night with Haley was a total blank for him, maybe I could’ve gotten past it. He’d tried so hard to tell me, but my pride had sent him away. It was tough to admit, but the truth was, our years apart were as much my fault as his.
Ava claimed that JP and I were lugging baggage around—and that was an understatement. We’d loved hard and hurt each other harder. Was there any coming back from that?
I didn’t know, I honestly didn’t, and sorrow overwhelmed me. I hunched over my desk, buried my face in my arms, and cried. I cried for my own stubbornness. I cried for JP’s mistake. I cried for what we’d lost and might not be able to get back. And when the tears finally dried up, I whispered the first prayer I’d said in years.
Please, Lord, help me. Guide me. Show me what to do and give me the courage to do it.
Then I went upstairs, took a shower, and prepared to spend the afternoon with JP Keller.
Chapter 10
J
P drove a big charcoal gray pickup truck. It rumbled loudly when he pulled in, and although I’m not especially mechanically inclined, I was pretty sure that meant it had a diesel engine. Which wasn’t surprising, as I remembered him talking about how he wanted to get one of those someday.
I put on my coat, grabbed my purse, and went to the door, opening it just as he was about to push the doorbell.
He looked surprised, then a little sheepish. “You heard me pull in?” he asked.
I chuckled. “Kinda hard not to. I guess you finally got your dream truck.”
“Uh, yeah, this is actually the second one,” he said as we walked across the porch. “The first one had a run-in with a semi. The semi won.”
He opened the passenger door for me and I looked up at him before I got in. “Ava told me about your accident. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He shrugged. “I’m good now, thanks to a few metal pieces.”
“I’m glad. I can only imagine how hard it was for you to be off your feet for so long.”
“I’ve done my best to block it from my memory.”
Our eyes held for a moment before I turned and climbed into his truck, grateful for the big running board to step onto so I didn’t need his help. When I was settled in the seat he shut the door and came around to slide behind the wheel. He snapped his seatbelt before flashing me a smile.
“You look good in my truck, Myla,” he said.
I gave him a curious look as my pulse rate ratcheted up. “What determines whether a person looks good in a truck?” I asked, sounding far calmer than I felt.
He shrugged one shoulder. “They just have to be you.”
My mouth went dry, my cheeks got warm, and I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything to say.
He just grinned and started the truck, then backed out onto the road and accelerated away from the house. At the first stop sign he glanced over at me.
“So…what’d you get for Christmas?”
Glad for the easy question, I swiveled in the seat and held my right hand out for him to see. “Mom gave me my grandma’s ring. I totally wasn’t expecting it, but it’s the best thing she could have given me. I remember Grandmom wearing it.”
He reached out and grabbed my fingers, angling my hand so he could get a better look at the ring. I knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but the feel of his fingers holding mine made my heart jump into my throat.
“It suits you,” he said, smiling at me before releasing my hand. “I can see why Tammy wanted you to have it.”
“And Dad made me a jewelry box,” I said, hoping he hadn’t noticed my reaction to his touch.
“Does he still spend a lot of time in his shop?”
I nodded. “Whenever I go over there in the evenings he’s in his shop and Mom’s in her sewing room. I got him a new router for Christmas. The kind for woodworking, not computers. Don’t ask me what it does, I just bought it because Mom said he wanted one.”
“I know what a router is. If your jewelry box has any fancy grooves on it, he probably used a router.”
“It does, actually.” I glanced over at him. “So what did you get?”
“Would you believe I got a stove?” he asked, laughing.
“Really? Why a stove?”
“Because the one in the house I bought doesn’t work, and Mom said I can’t have a house without a stove.”
“You’ve been without one ever since you moved?”
He shrugged. “I have a microwave.”
“You never cook?”
“Not really. I usually stop in town and pick food up on my way home.”
“You should definitely use your new stove,” I declared. “I’m with your mom on that one. Home-cooked food is better for you and a lot less expensive. You just need a cookbook with really easy, basic recipes to start with. Make out a grocery list at the beginning of the week, do your shopping all at once, then throw something together when you get home from work. It’s pretty easy.”
He grunted. “For you maybe.”
“Is it gas or electric?”
“Gas.”
“Perfect. Those are the best.”
“If you say so.”
I looked out my window, trying to come up with another topic of conversation. He beat me to it.
“Tell me about the army.”
The question took me off guard and I gave him a sideways look. “That was four years of my life—where do I even begin?”
“At the beginning?” he suggested wryly.
I gave a little huff. “Right. Okay, well, I got assigned to the intelligence field after going through the enlistment process. After boot camp I went to a base in Arizona for training and ended up being stationed there.”
He raised a brow in my direction.
“Yeah, I went to that base, remember? Twice.”
I winced. “Yeah. Sorry.”
After a short pause, he said, “It looked like a nice place.”
I gratefully took the pass he was offering. “It wasn’t bad. I was there the whole time except for two deployments and some extended TDYs. Those are short-term assignments, usually training. Both deployments were to Afghanistan. One was four months and one was six. But since I worked intel I can’t tell you much of what I did while I was there.”
“Was it dangerous?”
I shrugged. “There’s always danger over there, but I stayed on some pretty well-protected installations. It was stressful but not especially dangerous.”
“Stressful how?”
I turned toward him, tucking one foot up under me. “I was an intelligence analyst. We worked directly with mission command, and they relied on the information we provided about enemies in the region and what they were up to. If we missed something, people could get hurt. Or killed. That’s about all I can say.”
“I’m sure you were good at it.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugged, his wrist propped on the top of the steering wheel. “You’re detailed and logical. Observant. Careful. Not to mention smart as they come.”
I laughed. “That might be debatable. I had to call Chase the other day to come over and show me how to adjust the temperature on my hot water heater. Because I somehow missed the big red dial that said warm and hot. That doesn’t scream smart to me.”
He grinned. “Mechanics might not be your thing, but that doesn’t indicate intelligence.”
“At least I can cook,” I teased.
“There is that. I remember the fantastic meals you used to make.”
I looked away and rolled my lips together, not sure how to respond.
“Sorry, Myla,” he said after a moment. “I’m trying not to say things that make you uncomfortable, but there’s a lot of forbidden territory. It’s hard to know where it all is.”
