7
Jett
I’m not sure how long I walk through town. The moisture in the air teases snow flurries, and my lungs finally take in a full breath. I need more layers. My toes are freezing through my sneakers, and my fingertips may never return from their current purple color. It is too cold to wander these streets, but returning to Reece’s or my house in Covington seems terrible. I try to push the thoughts of coldness away and appreciate my surroundings.
Havenwood is beautiful year-round, but the winter months are my favorite. Even just this slight bit removed from the center of the small town, the open fields and rolling hills are still green with tall fescue. Most of the trees are bare, but it just adds to the beauty, in my opinion. Preparing for a new season of life.
Further down the road, I can see the outline of River Haven Ranch. Back in the day, it was a functional cattle ranch, but now the Flynn brothers just train horses out of it. The classic red barn would make a gorgeous backdrop for someone’s cover design.
Along the other side of the road is house after house, though they all have a decent amount of space between them and all have large backyards. It always amazes me how this town exists between some of the most popular tourist-attracting cities but never seems to have anyone out of the ordinary.
Everyone is always overly friendly. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. And yet, out here, away from the bustle of Covington, away from the prying eyes of the citizens of Havenwood, I feel more at peace than I have in weeks. I know it’ll be short lived, but I enjoy it while it lasts.
As I come upon a bench along the sidewalk on my way back toward town, I take a seat, letting my head drop into my hands, knee already bouncing. My mind spins from wanting to talk to Joey because I miss him, to going back to Riley’s and giving Reece and McKenna my real thoughts on what they say and do, to wanting to cry because my life has fallen apart, to kicking myself for not getting my shit together, to the sexy, dark-haired man who saved me. The same one I told not to waste his time.
Why did I tell Noah that? Oh, right. Because it will save everyone from any disastrous outcome. Still, I continue to think about our encounters, the warmth of his hands, the light in his eyes. The way it felt like he actually saw me and not just my flaws. I have to be naive to think that, right? Is it possible for Noah—a guy I met by chance—to truly see me without knowing me?
Reece doesn’t like him. Though, quite honestly, I’m not sure why I care what my brother thinks. I’ve always taken his opinion seriously. Growing up, the worst thing in life was when I would do something that affected Reece negatively. It always ate away at me.
His opinion still matters, but why should it hold more weight than my own? Especially when he still sees me as the teenager who couldn’t stay out of detention instead of the twenty-seven-year-old who has excelled in a challenging career field.
I’m a big girl. I can hold my own against snarky clients. I pay my bills—mostly—on time. I have no student loan debt, and I paid cash for my little Ford Taurus. So, why am I still desperately trying to placate my big brother with my taste in men?
It ends today. No more people pleasing. It’s time to do something that benefits me and me alone.
As I return to thinking about Noah’s deep, rumbly voice and calloused hands, I swear his voice fills my ears. My head tilts, ears listening to figure out if I’m hallucinating or not. A hand on my shoulder has me jumping from the bench and cursing.
“Holy crap on a cracker. What the hell was that for? Can’t you see I was in the middle of daydreaming? Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to interrupt a girl when she’s firmly in the land of fiction?”
As my tangent comes to an end, it clicks that Noah Slater—the star of my fantasies as of late—is standing in front of me with an adorable Australian Shepherd puppy at his side. Puppy may be an exaggeration. It’s probably closer to two or three years old.
“You look troubled,” he says. That damnable smile is still in place, but a hint of concern taints it just a bit. “You okay, chaos?”
Just like that, the walls around my heart reenforce themselves with steel plates at the use of a nickname that has haunted me most of my life.
“Don’t call me that.” I want my words to express the anguish that the term brings me because of how many times it’s been used to describe every negative aspect of my personality, my habits, my life.
Instead, they come out in a rushed whisper, one I’m not even sure he can hear until he tilts his head in question, his eyes studying me a little too intently. The pup steps forward and nuzzles my hand, licking my fingertips. I welcome the distraction, scratching the top of the red merle’s head.
“What’s her name?” I ask with only a slight wobble in my voice.
“Sadie. What about what I just said caused you to clam up so fast?”
Shaking my head, I groan. “No one wants chaos in their life. Trust me, I’d know.” I can’t name the look that flashes over his face, but suddenly our bodies are much closer, Noah’s chest nearly brushing mine. His hand glides up, thumb and forefinger gently gripping my chin.
“Whoever said they don’t want you is full of shit and doesn’t know a good thing when they see it.”
For the first time in weeks, my mind is quiet. Noah’s chocolate-colored eyes bore into me, not giving me a chance to argue back. Not that I could form the words right now anyway. Because when he looks at me like this, it feels possible. Like maybe he means it. Maybe someone—Noah—could accept all the crazy that comes with me. The little voice in the dark corner of my mind whines that if my own brother and best friend can’t handle it, there is no way some random mechanic can.
He must sense the hint of hesitation, because as his hand slips away, his words allay my fears. “There’s nothing negative about my nickname for you. My life is all about order. Numbers make sense. Machines work a certain way. There’s nothing to question. But the second I saw you and you opened your mouth, I was hooked. You were frazzled and ticked off but still had enough fire to spit back sarcasm.”
Slipping back onto the bench and letting Sadie settle between my legs with her big boxy head on my thigh, I take a breath and look back to Noah. “It’s never held a positive connotation.”
One of his large hands reaches out again to slip a loose tendril of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek. I’ve imagined him touching me since our romance-worthy meet-cute.
My breath catches in my throat. Surely, this is a dream. Just another part of my overactive imagination fantasizing about the perfect man. His eyes search mine for a moment before a different grin graces his features. This one is softer, full of understanding.
“Something about you calls to a piece of me that I swore was dead and buried. I know you said you weren’t interested, but I’d still like to know you. Even if just as friends.”
I watch this man, trying to figure out if he’s toying with me or not. When I can’t decide and start squirming under his scrutiny, I turn away, effectively removing his hand from my skin, and I want to whimper at the loss of contact. Both times, his touch has quieted the fifty thousand open tabs in my head. Something only alcohol and the worst of medications have ever done. Except this time, the quiet isn’t numbing. It’s peaceful.
“Are you a superhero?” I ask, my lips quirking up. Sure, it’s cheesy. But something tells me he will appreciate the childish humor.
“Why?” he asks, his eyes alight with curiosity.
“Because you saved me from a tin can death trap, and now you’re calming me down by calling me chaotic. And something about that sentence is very, very wrong.”
He laughs a deep guttural laugh, startling Sadie, who had dozed off between us.
“First of all, you were never in any danger in that elevator. The power just went out. Like I told you then, the generator didn’t do its job. But you were safe.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Maybe I just see you, Jett Taylor. Even though you try your best to hide.” He goes to stand, triggering Sadie to do the same, and says, “The next time we run into each other—and there will be a next time—I plan to convince you that you are worth my time. See ya later, Chaos.”
And with that, he and Sadie resume their walk down the sidewalk toward town.
***
I don’t know how long I remain on the bench, but at some point, my phone vibrates. I answer without checking, assuming it is my brother. “No need to worry. I’m still alive.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but I’ll always worry about my daughter.” The voice on the other end has me pulling the phone away to check the caller ID.
The emotions swell up, clogging my throat. I bite my lip hard to silence the sob that wants to escape before responding. “Daddy.”
“Everything okay, sweetheart? Trouble with your brother?”
“Nothing out of the norm. I stormed out on him when he said something I didn’t agree with.”
“Now, Jetpack, how are we supposed to address big feelings?” he asks, using my nickname and one of the first tactics he’d taught me growing up when I couldn’t handle my emotions.
My shoulders slump as his worry seeps through the phone. “I should’ve talked to him. And I will. Too many big feelings this month.”
“I get that, sweetheart. I do. But if you keep shutting everyone out when you’re hurting, who is going to be there to take care of you?”
That’s the problem , I mutter to myself. To my dad I say, “Reece and McKenna won’t get along, and it makes it difficult to tell them anything. I don’t have anyone else.”
“You have your old man. Tell me what’s going on. Is this still about Joey? We have plenty of land. No one would ever find the body. And since we used Lyme on the field this year, no one would question another purchase.”
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of my daddy murdering my ex. “I don’t hate him, Daddy. I’m just still hurting.”
“You’re always welcome to come up to Kentucky for a bit if you need to get away. No heads up needed.”
“Thanks, Dad.” My voice cracks, so I clear my throat before continuing. “I’m just trying to convince everyone that I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Even if it isn’t true.
“I’m always here for you, baby girl. But I think you should go talk to your brother and make him see your side of whatever is eating at you. He’s stubborn, but you’re strong.”
“Thanks, Dad. Were you calling for anything specific? I kind of snapped at you, thinking you were Reece and all.”
“No, Jetpack. I just wanted to check in since I hadn’t talked to you in a few days.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, too. Call me soon, yeah?”
“Yes, sir.”