Darlin’

13. Heat Wave

Heat Wave

Savannah:

Caroline, I will be spending the summer with Beau. He told me everything last night. Do not call me. Do not text me. Don't even think about me. And no, I will NOT be doing Miss USA. I will call you when I'm ready to talk. Have a splendid summer.

Clear teal pool water splashes against my ankles as I wiggle my toes, staring at the read notification that appeared over two hours ago. She hasn't called. She hasn't replied. For the first time in forever, Caroline Kingsley's got nothing to say.

I thought that I'd have to chuck my newly working phone back into the tub again to avoid her bombardment, but it's been quiet.

No word. That's because she knows. She knows the only words that would be acceptable are I'm sorry .

And she's not ready to say 'em. And I'm sure as hell not ready to listen.

Closing my eyes, I soak in the gentle rays of the early morning California sun. California. What am I doing here? I don't belong in California. Especially not in this town. But where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?

A part of me thinks Beau asked me to stay because he felt bad. He's lived three years without me and managed just fine. He doesn't need me right now. Maybe he knows. Maybe he asked me to stay because he knows that I need him . I need some semblance of a home.

I sigh, looking around Jesse's backyard. This isn't home, though. Sure, I eat, sleep, and bathe here, but this ain't home.

I'm just a guest. An unwelcome one at that.

I know Jesse doesn't want me here. He's been rather vocal about it.

Last night I overheard Jesse and Beau arguing.

What if I wanna bring a chick home? Jesse had asked Beau.

My brother laughed at him. Dude, you haven't hooked up with a girl since —Jesse stormed out before Beau could finish his sentence.

I'm glad he didn't finish. For some reason, that's one tidbit of information I don't want to hear.

"Good morning, my little nuisance." Jesse's groggy morning voice startles me as he saunters into the backyard with a piping hot cup of coffee in his hand.

Speak of the devil. I narrow my eyes at him, jealous of his ability to look so damn good in the morning.

"You're up early." He cocks his head, blowing into the mug as he scans my jammies. "Going for a swim?"

"Oh joy, you're awake," I mumble, slumping my shoulders. Let the daily games begin. "And here I thought I'd have a few more hours of peace." I check the time on my phone. "Why are you awake anyway? It's only seven. "

"I got woken up by some annoying chick crying uncontrollably," he replies, raising an accusatory brow. "What? Break a nail this morning?"

"I am so sorry," I jeer, kicking my feet in the water, hoping it'll release some of the pent-up anger I appear to be harboring. "The next time that my world crumbles 'round me, I'll be sure to keep the crying to a minimum so as not to wake his royal highness."

"So, not a broken nail?" Jesse asks, rolling up his grey joggers and sitting down beside me on the edge of the pool. I roll my eyes, and he sighs, nudging me with his elbow. "Come on. I know you want to talk about it." In a sweet—disingenuous—tone, he asks, "What happened?"

Jesse's like one of them emergency ice/heat packs.

He can swing in either direction at a moment's notice.

Daddy had a few of those packs stored away in case of natural disasters.

And that's what Jesse is. My own personal natural disaster.

At least I know how to deal with Ice Age Jesse.

That's easy. It's heat wave Jesse that concerns me.

"Like you care," I mutter, discreetly inching away from him as our thighs graze for a millisecond. He's like a dang furnace. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"You're right," he hums, staring out into his lush yard. "I don't care, but"—he casts me an amused grin—"I quite enjoy sleeping past nine on Sundays, so on the off chance that talking about it will prevent you from waking me before my alarm, I'm all ears."

"Wow," I muse, voice dripping in sarcasm. "You're real good at helping people open up. It's like you have this wild ability to create such a safe space for dialogue. If being a criminal doesn't pan out, you should try your hand at counseling. I think it's your true calling."

"Nice." Jesse presses his lips into an unimpressed, thin line. "Glad to see that the world crumbling hasn't hindered your ability to act like an absolute brat. There's still hope for you after all."

I scowl at him. "You're real charming in the morning; anybody ever tell you that?"

"Babe, I'm charming all the time," Jesse says, proudly placing an exaggerated hand on his chest, "You just haven't been privy to said charm."

"Right," I snort. "You're about as charming as a tick on a ballsack." Jesse blinks, and I make a threatening pinching motion with my fingertips. "Chomp chomp."

"Damn girl." Jesse winces, adjusting his dick, which, for the record, I only noticed because he moved, not cause grey fabric leaves little to the imagination. "Who pissed in your cornflakes today?"

"Everyone," I grunt out in frustration. "Every single person I thought I could trust has gone and pissed me off, okay? So you might wanna tread lightly."

"Come on, tell me," Jesse probes again, nodding with a cheeky smile. "I know you wanna..."

He's right. I do want to talk to someone about it. If I keep talking to myself, I might just become Bertha after all.

"Fine."

Verbal vomit spews from my lips as I recount all the shady lies and secrets my family hid from me over the years.

I tell him about Beau and Momma and Daddy.

Hell, I even toss in a tangent about Felicity, who stole my locker in senior year; it was related somehow.

..I think. By the time I'm done venting, my mouth is dry, and Jesse's coffee is ice cold.

"Shit," Jesse hums, scratching his beard. "That's tough, babe."

"I know!" I groan as I take a deep breath that fills my lungs with ease. "And to top it all off, I got a roommate who can't stand me. Ain't that just peachy?"

"Well, maybe that's a sign it's finally time to accept the fact that you're the problem," Jesse jokes, attempting to lighten the conversation. It doesn't work, and I elbow him in the ribs. "Fucking hell, woman. Sense the tone! I was kidding, for God's sake."

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes right now?" I ask, scowling. "Read the room, Paxton."

"I would, but"—he smirks—"we're outside."

My eyes narrow. "I find you incredibly annoying right now."

"I find you incredibly annoying all the time," Jesse retorts with a smug smile.

"Just go away. I knew you didn't care." I turn away from him, sighing. "Let me sulk in peace."

"Oh, come on, Sav, I was kidding." Jesse gives my thigh a gentle squeeze.

"Listen, I know you're bummed that your parents are shitheads, okay?

I get it. It sucks that they lied to you but look, you're here now.

" I nibble on my bottom lip as he continues, "So fuck 'em.

Don't even think about them. Enjoy the time you have with your brother.

" His voice softens and cracks as he adds, "You never know how much time you've got left with the people you love. "

Dang it. There it is again. In between the ice and heat, there's this little smidgen of neutral territory that frightens me beyond belief.

It's a place that's raw and honest. It's a place he hides real well.

Maybe he doesn't even know it's there. No one's welcome inside.

Certainly not me. But I've seen it a couple of times.

Only for a second. But it's there...just tempting me to step inside.

I swallow, bracing myself as I try to penetrate the walls. "She's still with you."

Jesse frowns, shifting uncomfortably beside me. "Who?"

"Your momma. She's still with you." I reach over and gently poke Jesse's firm chest. "Right there."

"In my lung?" Jesse asks, brushing off my comment. It was worth a shot. "Shit." He looks down as he says, "'Sup, Mom. Sorry for all the smoke."

I roll my eyes. "I meant your heart, you jackass."

"That's where you think your heart's located? Damn, someone skipped Anatomy 101," Jesse jokes, steering us back to chartered grounds. "Hope you're not in med school."

"You're impossible to talk to," I note in a grumble. "Is everything a joke to you?"

Jesse grins. "Yes."

"Lovely," I mutter. "I'm living with Krusty the Clown."

Jesse snorts. "Which makes you Sideshow Bob. Sure you wanna wear that title?"

"Can't be worse than Bertha ." I scowl. "Just add it to the list of offensive and inaccurate nicknames."

"And a cartoon clown isn't offensive?" Jesse chuckles. " You really do live in your own little lalaland, don't you?" He snaps his fingers. "It's time to wake up, Dorothy."

"Oh, another one, great," I say, playfully shoving him.

As much as I hate to admit it, I don't feel as sad now as I did a couple of hours ago.

Maybe this is okay. Maybe rolling the dice daily won't be that bad.

At least I'm entertained. "By the end of the summer, I'll have enough aliases to be a full-fledged member of your little club. "

"Yeah?" Jesse grins. "You wanna wear the cut, princess?"

"I mean, I do look great in leather," I reply in a flirty tone. Lord, help me. "But I think my presence might distract all the boys. Wouldn't want that, would we?"

"You're already distracting the boys," Jesse admits, quickly adding, "Hard to focus when there's glass smashing all the time."

My jaw drops. "One time. I dropped the tray one time. And it wasn't even my fault. Ask Jiggs. He was stumbling around like a sleepy toddler. A cat wouldn't have been able to dodge him."

"Excuses, excuses," Jesse sings. "Always putting the blame on someone else. See? If you're gonna be a part of The Sons, accountability is important, so"—he shrugs—"guess you're shit out of luck."

"Oh, how will I ever recover from this?" I ask, pushing myself up to my feet. "All my hopes and dreams ripped away." I toss him a cheeky smile. "I might just cry from the heartbreak."

"One of these days, princess, that well's gonna dry up," he notes, standing up. "What're you gonna do then? Got any other hobbies other than sobbing and being annoying?"

"If only," I say, feigning a sigh. "That would surely make the next few weeks more bearable for you, but alas, I'm very two-dimensional.

" I cast him a sassy side-eye. "How are you ever gonna be able to survive the whole summer with me, Jesse?

I know how badly you've been itching to bring some chicks over. "

Jesse perks an amused brow. "You been spying on me, babe?"

"Just happened to be walking by while you were airing your woes," I reply innocently.

"But honestly, Jesse, don't mind me. I wouldn't be offended if you needed the company of some professional females.

Just let me know how they like their coffee in the morning.

Oh, and don't forget to leave 'em a little tip. "

"A tip?" Jesse asks with an edge. "Really?"

"Surely no woman would want to spend time with you willingly ." My phone vibrates in my hand. A text from Marlow. "I guess I'm going for lunch with the love birds today."

"Oh yeah?" Jesse smirks at me, a devious glimmer in his eyes as I search the restaurant location on my phone. "Where?"

Before I can show Jesse the map, he snatches the phone from my hand and shoves me full force back into the deep end of the pool.

No! My pulse quickens as I splash around, gasping for air between shrieks.

"Jesse...I can't—" His muffled laughter fills my ears as I struggle to breathe. "I can't swim?—"

"Oh, shit..." The water bubbles and swirls around me as Jesse dives into the pool. "I got you, Savannah. I got you." Jesse wraps his arms around my waist as my head breaks the water, and I suck in a long breath, coughing as he lifts me out of the pool. "You're okay. You're fine. I got you.”

I continue coughing, my heart beating frantically in my chest as I recover from a near-death experience. Aren't near-death experiences supposed to be scary? Shouldn't I be more afraid? More shaken?

"Hey," he whispers, hovering over me as he brushes wet strands of hair away from my face. Droplets of pool water drip off his beard as he strokes my cheek. "Are you okay? Just breathe." I cough again, wiping my nose. "Shit, Savannah. I'm sorry I?—"

"I know..." I clear my throat, voice hoarse. "I know you don't like me...but killing me?" I prop myself up on my elbows, scanning Jesse's distraught features. "I think that's going a little too far."

"Fuck..." Jesse's posture relaxes as he rests his forearm on his knee and peers down at me. His jaw tenses. "Why didn't you tell me you can't swim, Savannah?"

"Didn't really come up," I say, blowing pool water out of my nose as my breathing stabilizes. "Plus"—I glare up at him—"didn't think I'd be pushed into a pool by a grown-ass man."

Jesse shakes his head, whispering, "Don't do that again."

I blink at him. "Me? I didn't throw myself in, did it?"

"We'll start next week," Jesse says, abruptly standing up. His wet clothes stick to his sculpted body in the most mesmerizing of ways. He's like a statue in the Museum of the Hot and Bothered. What a beautiful natural disaster. "I'll leave you money on the counter. Buy a swimsuit."

"Huh?" Licking my lips, I frown in confusion as I glance up at him. "What?"

"You need to learn how to swim," he says, holding out his hand. I hesitate before taking it, and he pulls me to my feet. "There won't always be a lifeguard on duty."

"Just don't push me in again, and we'll be fine," I say, giggling nervously like a schoolgirl. "Problem solved."

"It's non-negotiable," he states, dropping my hand quickly. "Can't have you dying on me." He nods at the pool. "And sit further back next time, okay? Jesus."

"You're seriously mad at me right now?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Jesse swallows, gaze flitting across my thin, wet jammies. A bolt of bravado rushes through me. "What? See something you like there, Paxton?"

Jesse grunts under his breath, removing his soaked shirt and joggers as he storms back inside.

I bite my lip, tilting my head as he turns the corner, and I catch a glimpse of his bare ass.

Damn heat wave.