Chapter Thirty-Six Damion
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Nebraska feels good on the skin, like the slow lick of warm afternoon sun when it crawls all over the planes of your face.”
—Remington
Damion
“So why are you here?”
I looked at Julia’s cousin and respected the way she wasn’t wasting any time. It kind of reminded me of Liam and his assholery when he found out I was taking his sister to the season.
“On earth?” I quipped as I followed her around to the backyard.
I still couldn’t believe I was here. In Nebraska.
Holy shit, what am I even doing?
I’d been so shaken up by her texts and the momentary panic of thinking she was gone forever that I’d knee-jerked and bought a plane ticket.
I’d told my parents I was going with Beckett to Aspen for the weekend and they didn’t even blink; they just reminded me to have Donna overnight my skis to the condo so I wouldn’t have to bother with them at the airport.
Such concerned parents.
But I wasn’t going to overthink my Julia issues anymore because I was getting sick of trying to figure out what the hell was going on with me when it came to her.
I’d hopped on a plane out of concern for a fellow human, and now I was going to check out this insanely small town before heading back to the hotel for a day of relaxation.
That was it.
Nothing to figure out.
“No, seriously, why are you in Springfield? I’m just curious,” Lauren asked as she unlatched the fence gate and pushed it open. “Jules looked shocked to see you.”
“Julia texted me last night,” I admitted. “And I… misunderstood.”
That earned me a raised eyebrow from Lauren as I followed her into the backyard, and into—wow—a yard just as small-town charming as the house itself.
A big grassy rectangle with bushes on its border and party lights draped across a few trees.
Looking around, I had the fleeting thought that it’d probably been nice to grow up here.
And just as I thought that, two golden retrievers came running at us.
“Meet Bo and Bobo,” Lauren said.
“Julia named them, didn’t she?” I said as the dogs started happy barking.
“Duh,” Lauren said, smiling at the dogs. “And yeah—Jules texted me last night, too, panicking that my meds were going to kill her. She’s got no chill about pills, I swear to God.”
“So she accidentally took your medicine?” I asked. “Is that what happened?”
“Pretty much, but in her defense, she’s allergic to like everything, so she’s smart to be paranoid.
” Lauren knelt down to scratch the bigger of the two dogs, the fluffier of the two.
“One time they gave her Benadryl for a mosquito bite and she ended up with a head-to-toe rash. Resulted in the unfortunate nickname of Pink Julia.”
“When was that?” I asked, dropping to a sit on the grass as the smaller dog approached me.
“She was in third grade,” she replied, then added, “I remember because Will got a time-out for pushing CJ McCallum because CJ made her cry. Little Will took him down good.”
Will. Will. Will.
She laughed at the memory, but it was like his name was being hammered into my brain on repeat.
With a really painful nail.
“Is that the same Will…?” I said, acting as if I knew something about that guy.
I knew nothing, of course, other than the fact that he had an ugly wallet that Julia was still using.
And that he was her ex.
And that he didn’t look close to being in her league with that stupid hair and even stupider ’stache.
“The one and only Will Malone,” she said, nodding.
One and only. You have got to be kidding.
The one and only douchebag, maybe. The one and only asshole who broke her heart.
Fucking one and only my ass.
Sticking to the whole what am I even doing theme of the day, I asked, “So things with Will are over but also…?”
“Complicated,” Lauren said with a smile, nodding like we agreed on something. “I’m pretty sure she’s over him but would still like to punch him in the face if she ever saw him again.”
“Ah,” I said. “So what happened?”
Lauren said, “He and Jules were together since like seventh grade.”
Seventh grade! That was like five fucking years.
Christ. I’d barely dated anyone for five months.
“But then last year he started texting the new girl, like all the time, but he told Jules it was no big deal. That they were just friends.”
Classic asshole.
“He made Julia feel like she was being paranoid, like she was the one out of line whenever she brought up how much it was bothering her. But then two days after they had a little argument and ‘took a break,’ he started seeing the new girl. Literally two days later. And then we started hearing all sorts of rumors that he’d been cheating on her for weeks.
We still have no idea if it’s true or not. ”
“So she was gaslit and blindsided,” I said, bothered way more than I should be over the thought of Julia brokenhearted. “What a dick.”
“Who’s a dick?” I heard, and when I looked up, there she was.
Julia stepped off the deck and started walking toward us, and dear God, she looked incredible. She was wearing faded jeans with holes all over the place and an oversized NU football jersey, her long curls were wet and wild, and a pair of black Converse high-tops covered her feet.
Somehow she looked fucking perfect.
Jesus, Nebraska looks good on her.
“Will,” Lauren replied.
Who were we talking about? Because only Julia existed right now. The clean smell of her—shampoo or soap or lotion—floated around me on the breeze as she stopped in front of us.
“Will?” Julia said, her eyes darting to me briefly before she said, “Why are you talking about him?”
“He asked,” Lauren said with a shrug.
“I was curious about Wallet Boy,” I said, feeling busted. “Your little mullet man sounded interesting.”
The Beckett thing still annoyed the shit out of me. Maybe that was why I was messing with her now.
“Oh my God, that’s right—the tutor was your pickpocket!” Lauren said with a grin.
“I’m not a pickpocket,” I said, wondering what else Julia had told her about me.
But also… she talked about me?
“And I heard she kicked your ass, too,” her cousin added in a singsong voice.
“Is that what she said?” I tilted my head and wanted to laugh as that little shit gave me the most unapologetic grin I’d ever seen.
A grin that was one hundred percent the version of Julia I’d had at Riverside Park.
Cake Julia.
Bodega Julia.
Julia with a wealth of smiles, all for me.
I wanted to step closer just to make her look up at me.
“Okay, I’m taking off,” Lauren said, pulling a set of keys out of her pocket. “You two have fun,” she shouted, walking toward the car. Leaving me and Julia—my little Nebraska—alone. Finally.
“So about that tour…?” I began, and I could tell Julia was nervous as she rocked on her feet. God, she was cute nervous.
“Uh, right. The tour.” She ran her hand through her hair, the movement giving me a strong hint of whatever the hell that shampoo was. Easy, honey. “Maybe we should take the golf cart.”
“Why would we take a golf cart to town?” I asked.
“Because it’s more fun to drive than a car, I guess.”
Oh, Nebraska.
“Is it legal to do that?”
She shrugged. Nibbled on that lower lip. “Everybody does it.”
“You’re telling me that everybody drives golf carts on city streets?” Somehow the image of her drifting in a golf cart, hair flying, just fit. But I leaned a little closer and said, “How about we walk instead?”
Julia toyed with that lip a little more, distracting me with the sight.
“I mean, I guess,” she said, looking so pouty I wanted to laugh. “Let’s go.”
We started down the sidewalk, the morning sun bright and warm, and I was a little surprised by how picturesque everything was.
Actually, I was shocked that I found it to be picturesque. Autumn yard decorations, the old houses lining the road, pumpkins everywhere.
And what was with the smell? I took a deep breath through my nose and smelled… nothing.
No food, no garbage, no exhaust fumes. It just smelled like… morning.
Grass, sunshine… air, maybe.
And it wasn’t like I’d never been outside the city; I’d communed with nature before. But this somehow felt… more pure.
Like I could take more oxygen into my lungs in this place. Breathe a little easier.
God, it makes perfect sense that Uncle Remi loved it here.
And there was something about knowing this was the town where he’d lived that made me feel… connected to it somehow, like this random town was something to me.
“Do you really want a tour?” Julia asked, pulling me out of my thoughts, and God—it was almost hard to look at her.
She was too gorgeous.
The freckles on her nose, the fire in her hair, the sheen of those glossy lips—too much. The football jersey, the worn jeans, the cheap sunglasses—MUCH too much.
I wanted to stare, to just look at Julia without stopping, because suddenly I couldn’t get enough.
“Hell yes, I do,” I said.
She nodded at me skeptically, her eyes glancing over me.
“So”—I cleared my throat—“tell me who lives there.”
I pointed to a big blue house with a white porch as we walked past. “The mayor?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “The mayor lives over in the Pines. Dr. Butters, the principal of the high school, lives here.”
“His name is seriously Dr. Butters.” I snorted. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s too outlandish to be a joke, right?” she said with a smile.
“And who lives there?”
“I don’t actually know every single person who lives in Springfield,” she said, her eyebrows pressing together. “You know that, right?”
“I doubt it, but okay, fine,” I said, wondering what it must’ve been like to grow up here, in all this quiet. “So tell me, Jules. What’s your favorite thing about this place?”
Her face turned warm, and for the first time since I’d come here, I noticed her guard drop. Just a little. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say because it’s just, you know… home.”
I was envious of the expression she wore, of the relaxed softness on her face as she reminisced about home. I loved the city, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever spoken about it with so much contentedness in my voice.
Although, shit—something about this place just coaxed out contentment.
Maybe it was the leisurely way the town was waking, like all its inhabitants were still lounging under their sun-warmed blankets. It felt like sleep as we strolled under the autumn sun, like languorous waking with zero alarms.
My father would hate it here.
When we passed Woodland Animal Hospital, I wondered if Rem had taken Mr. Dipshit there for shots, and I also wondered what life was like for the DVM who ran that clinic.
Did he make house calls and spend half his days looking in on sickly horses? All the times I’d imagined it, a career in animal medicine, I’d never considered that a part of the job.
What would that look like?
“Wait—is that the store?” I pointed at Lowell’s Market on the other side of the street. It was next door to a dentist’s office, and the exterior was everything I would’ve imagined after seeing their house. Brick facade, painted front window, piles of pumpkins.
“Yeah,” Julia said, shooting me a weird look. She almost looked nervous.
“Well, tour guide, let’s take a tour.”
“Wait—” she began, but my hand was on her arm and I was tugging her forward. “Please.”
“Fine,” she relented, nudging me with her elbow.
Yes, honey.
Julia waved at the man at the counter as we walked in. Carl Sr. or Kevin Jr. or something.
“So this is the store,” she said, holding out her arms.
“Aisle by aisle,” I demanded. “Don’t rush it.”
“You’re a real pain in the ass about this,” she said, a laugh in her voice.
There was something about the place that felt more personal than most of the markets in the city. Instead of a thousand products jammed onto the shelves, there were fewer selections, but set up in small displays that made it feel like it was curated for the townspeople.
Like specific townspeople, I realized when I noticed a big, handwritten sign taped to a display that read LOU’S SECTION.
The shelves of Lou’s section were covered with an array of products, none of them seemingly tied into the others. Cans of Campbell’s Chunky soup, spaghetti, Oreo cookies, Fancy Feast cat food—
“Who is Lou?” I asked.
“Our favorite customer,” Julia quickly said with a bright smile. “He was this old guy who lived in a fishing cabin outside of town. He had very specific tastes and always ordered the same exact things: soup, spaghetti, Oreos, and Fancy Feast.”
“Refined,” I teased, but I’d spent plenty of weekends devouring Oreos at my uncle’s. They were a fucking delicacy, if you asked me.
“Right?” she said. “After we found out he passed away, everyone at the store agreed that we had to put his favorite things in one section and make it a permanent display. Our town’s quirky little way of honoring him, I guess.”
My eyes slid over her face as she said this. Because even though she was smiling, her eyes shimmered with tears. Tears.
And that was when it hit me. When everything got messed up in my head as I looked at the display again.
Soup, spaghetti, Oreos, and Fancy Feast.
Suddenly it felt like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.
Soup, spaghetti, Oreos, and Fancy Feast.
Shit, shit, shit.
I was staring at a display of Remi’s favorite things.
Oreos, Barilla, Chunky, and Mr. Dipshit’s favorite, Fancy Feast.
And as my eyes dropped down to the bottom shelf, I saw the photo next to a can of clam chowder.
Before I could think better of it, the picture was in my hand. I felt almost dizzy as I looked down at his face.
It was Remi, sitting at a desk with a pen in his hand, smiling as Julia’s parents stood behind him.
Beaming, like they’d just accomplished something monumental.
“Lou had a great smile, right?” Julia said, stepping closer and looking down at the photo.
I nodded and wasn’t sure I could speak, but then I managed to say, “Tell me more about this Lou.”
That was when Julia stepped back, a beam of realization flooding her face, and said, “Actually, I have a better idea.”