Chapter 38 #3
He smiles. With dimples. And then he rounds the car and opens the passenger door and gestures.
I put my keys into my bag and head that way.
I’m about to get into the car, but he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close, whispering against my temple. “Hey. You look beautiful. And you smell like hot apple pie.”
He lets out a little growl which instantly saturates my undies.
I wonder how muted my scent is.
He then lets out a not-so-little rakish laugh. He knows exactly what he just did to me.
“Hey,” I whisper and force down a swallow, because I could say something about the way he smells, too, but I’m trying to play it off like I didn’t just embarrass myself.
I’m just… stunned right now.
He closes the door, rounds the hood and gets in.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he starts up the car.
“Taking you to a carnival where we’ll pig out and I’ll win you a new stuffed animal.”
“Huh?”
“That stuffed wolf on your dresser is getting a little long in the tooth,” he says. “When did I win that for you?”
My heart skips a beat because he remembered my wolf that he won at a pack carnival when I was fifteen. “Ten years ago,” I tell him.
He continues. “After that, we’re going to a vintage drive-in that’s been doing a John Hughes marathon. Tonight it’s not Sixteen Candles, unfortunately. That was last night.”
So, this was intentionally a Sixteen Candles theme.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Double bill. The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. You like those?”
I nod a little, getting my seatbelt fastened. “Yep. Sure do.”
“Drive’s about two hours, though. Can you wait or are you starvin’? We could hit a drive thru, but I know how much you like carnival corndogs and deep-fried cheesecake.”
“I can wait,” I say, a memory assaulting my senses where I was maybe six years old and had a glob of ketchup and mustard swirl on my nose while eating a giant corndog. Jase wiped it off with a napkin after his sister teased me for it.
I was crying because I didn’t know why Sherry was so mean to me.
Telling me I smelled gross, because I’m half human.
Then teasing me about following her brother around all the time.
I wanted to be her friend. I thought she was pretty.
I wanted to be everyone’s friend, but when I asked if I could come over and play Barbies with her just before that carnival, she accused me of just wanting to get close to Jase.
And Jase dabbed the napkin on my nose, flashed his dimples at me, and told me he loved corndogs with ketchup and mustard, too.
But that’s why I ate it that way, because I’d watched Jase pour ketchup and mustard on a paper plate and mix the sauce together with the tip of his corndog. To this day, on the rare occasion I eat one, I still eat it that way.
Not fixing things with Jase would mean I’d have far too many daily reminders of him.
Because a whole lot of who I am comes from him, my source material, the blueprint for everything I wanted my life to be about.
I followed him around so much that memories of him are woven into the fabric of pretty close to my entire life.
“How was your day?” I ask, a moment later, when we’re out of the village.
He gives me a funny look. “My day?”
“Did you have a good day?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s better now.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a phony baloney.”
He looks indignant. “I’ll have you know I’m never, not ever a phony.”
It’s a little windy with the top down, so I reach into my bag for a hair tie and wind my hair into a bun at the back of my head.
I catch Jase’s gaze on me, so I look and I’m pretty sure he’s looking at my now exposed neck, exactly where he’d bite.
And we’re swerving now as he just about crossed the center line and a little green hatchback is laying on the horn.
“Fuck,” he mutters, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
I just did that? I just nearly made Jase crash the car because he got fixated on my neck?
“Imagine if I flashed my boobs,” I mutter aloud, by complete accident.
His jaw tightens. “You’re gonna pay for that, Bay,” he warns, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
I’ve got my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that outside my head.”
“What else aren’t you sayin’?” he asks, his tone dangerous.
“None of your bee’s wax,” I reply haughtily.
“When you let me off this leash, you’re in big trouble, baby. That’s all I’m sayin’. Don’t wanna scare you off. Now, let’s change the subject before you send me into the rut. Tell me about your day.”
“How can you drop comments like that and expect me not to be scared? That’s terrifying.”
His expression relaxes. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, babe.”
But he does terrify me. He has the power to obliterate me over and over, the way he already has, and what can I do about it?
“Good day or bad day?” he asks.
“Uh… um… it… it was… long.”
“Was it ever…” he mutters.
“You and Linc had a fight?” I blurt.
His expression hardens. “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be,” he assures.
“Is Linc okay?” I ask.
“Linc is Linc,” he says.
Not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I drop it.
I marinate on the fact that Jase is taking me to a carnival for corndogs and to a John Hughes movie marathon.
Mom got me hooked on those movies years ago.
We do a marathon every few years for all those movies.
And I often put on Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, or Pretty in Pink just as background noise when I can’t sleep, like the other night.
Mom and I rotate through our marathons. A Julia Roberts marathon. One of all the Twilight movies. Every spring we pick a theme for a rainy weekend. This year it was two days of Elvis Presley movies.
“Did Grey give you the lowdown on all this stuff about me?” I ask.
“What?” He laughs. “I’ve known you your whole life, Bailey. I think I know stuff about you, too.”
“I didn’t think you paid attention to stuff about me.”
“I probably didn’t,” he admits. “Not really. But I told you… I’ve been reflecting.”
After a few minutes of silence, I ask, “Have you talked to anyone in your family since that meeting?”
He shakes his head. “Just texts in the family group chat. They wanna add you when I manage to win you over.”
My heart skips another beat. Part of the Creed family group chat.
“Who’s in that chat?”
“If you’re wondering about Sher, she’s in it but we’re all convinced she’s got it on mute most of the time.”
“I wonder how she’s doing,” I say.
“She’s pregnant. Did a test,” he says.
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling a pang of sadness. A baby born without a father. But it sounds like that baby will be better off without that particular dad. Though, Sherry as a mother?
“She’s not allowed to terminate. Heard earlier today that the coven got word to Cat Savage and the council’s getting involved to make the point.
We’re meeting with her tomorrow to let her know.
She thinks she’s coming in to talk to Cat about a termination.
Bitched Cat out on the phone for not getting her in immediately. Same old Sherry.”
“Oh no,” I whisper. “She’ll be forced to carry a baby that she doesn’t want? That’s just… it’s not good.”
“It’s not. But that baby she’s carrying is an alpha.”
I want to be angry. Because what’s about to happen to Sherry is basically what’s happening to me.
I’m being forced to be in a relationship to facilitate the birth of a child that’s been deemed important.
A child that doesn’t exist yet. But Sherry’s child already exists.
And it’s making me sad. Because she doesn’t want it.
It doesn’t have a father. And that baby did nothing to deserve the hate it’s going to get.
What’s she going to do when she gets this news?
“You comparing her situation to ours?” he asks, sounding angry.
“How can I not?” I whisper, staring ahead.
“It’s not the same,” he says aggressively. “And our kids aren’t the only reason we’re fated mates. Our kids are one of the reasons, but not all of them.”
I bite my lip and fight tears.
“I’m not Wyatt Meadows. You’re not Sherry. And we’re fated mates because you’re gonna give me what I failed to realize I needed until now. My reward for being part of the council.”
“Jase, don’t.”