22. Melissa
22
MELISSA
“ I t’s not funny,” I snapped, glaring at Jason as he backed the truck out of his parking space and circled the lot in front of my apartment building.
He stretched his arm across the back of my seat and did that infuriatingly sexy thing where he draped his stupid hand over the top of the steering wheel. All relaxed and annoyingly cool. He stopped, waiting for traffic to clear so he could pull out and head—well—wherever he was taking me for this best date of my life .
“It’s a little funny,” Jase snickered. “I mean, who else can say that a drug dealer called the cops on his own guy because of how he treated the girl he was on a date with?”
I buried my head in my hands, groaning. “I should’ve just gone on a date with the drug dealer. At least he had manners.”
Jase’s hand slipped from the back of my seat. His fingertips brushed my neck, trailing up into my hair, then down between my shoulder blades. It felt so damn good. I almost relaxed and leaned into him, but I jerked back, keeping my spine ramrod straight .
He did not deserve my affection.
Jason was the only damn reason I’d gone through with that stupid date. The date that involved my Tinder match swinging by his dealer’s house to grab some “product” to move while we were out .
Drinks and dinner never happened. Instead, my night turned into a three-hour ordeal when the drug dealer lost his shit after his guy— my date —brought a girl— me —into the stash house.
That’s the last time I go out with someone who describes his career as being a “freelance entrepreneur.”
Turns out, the dealer and I went to high school together. I didn’t remember that, but he remembered me patching him up in the ER after an altercation not too long ago.
The dealer’s goodwill ended when my date asked me to store some baggies of coke in my shoes.
Apparently, that’s how he planned on paying for dinner .
I kept my mouth shut and planned on ditching my shoes and running like hell the first chance I got.
We pulled away from the stash house and blue lights were on us faster than Maddie getting on the bar during girls’ night. I was fucked. I didn’t even have time to mentally plan out how I was going to convince Jase to go into witness protection with me.
I knew I was even more fucked when I saw that the blue lights were coming from Steve’s car.
To my surprise, he showed up with a pair of shoes for me. Erica’s .
They were a size too big, but at least they were controlled substance-free. My shoes were now evidence in a drug bust.
According to Steve, the dealer called the cops on his guy for being a dumbass, and cut him loose from the ring.
Chase perp-walked my date to his unmarked car, and Steve drove me to the bar .
He even paid for my drinks.
When I finally got home, I was filled with righteous indignation, ready to rip Jase a new one.
Jason thought my date story was fucking hilarious. Still did, that asshole . But he steered my furious ass straight to my bedroom as soon as I got home and told me to get some sleep.
I was about to offer him the other half of my mattress, but he proceeded to inform me about my four AM wake-up call. So, I banished him to the couch for another night just because of that. The fact that he was making me get up this fucking early for a date on a Saturday really made me want to choke him.
Jase dragged his lower lip between his teeth, smirking as he cruised toward Beaufort. “Admit it. It’s pretty funny.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t have even gone on that stupid date if you didn’t decide to play hard to get.”
“What can I say? I like playing hard to get. Sometimes it’s nice to be wooed.” He grinned from ear to ear and shot me an infuriating wink.
“So,” I huffed, slinking down into the seat and propping my feet up on the dash. “Why are we up at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday? You know, normal people are still asleep at this hour.”
The sun wasn’t even up yet, but Jase insisted we get an early start for this mystery date. The date he promised would crush every other date I’d ever been on.
The odds were in his favor. My bar for good dates was buried deep underground in one of those impenetrable doomsday bunkers.
“It’s a surprise,” he said casually. Absolutely nothing in his voice gave away what we were going to do.
“But this is a date ,” I asked.
I wasn’t trying to be needy, but I liked knowing where I stood. I like labels. Sure, I kind of hated the boyfriend and girlfriend labels— they seemed childish—but at least I knew where I stood with someone. The expectations were relatively clear.
With Jase, the expectations were about as clear as mud.
We flirted, we made out, we spent every free moment together, and then he basically forced me into going on a date with someone else. Now, he was claiming that he was going to set the standard for all future dates with this one day.
Skeptical was an understatement.
Jason nodded. “This is a date.” To make his point clear, he reached across the dark cab and found my hand. Jase laced his fingers with mine as we passed the port and crossed the bridge from Morehead City to Radio Island.
“Are we gonna eat breakfast?” I asked, shifting my wrist around until the handhold was comfortable.
The truck bumped and bobbed as we zipped down the empty road. One more bridge, then Jase took a right at the airfield, turning toward downtown Beaufort.
“Fair warning,” I yawned. “If I don’t get food within a half-hour of waking up, my mood takes a swift dive. I’m just warning you that I’ll go from pleasant to hangry in a split second.”
Jase snickered as he gave my hand a squeeze and rubbed his thumb across my skin. “Don’t worry, Goose. I’m gonna feed you.”
As if to prove his point, he pulled into the only joint in Beaufort that was open at this ungodly hour. Ed’s Diner.
In spite of the early wake-up call, breakfast was delicious. Ethel brought us platters piled high with pancakes, toast, eggs, hash browns, and a whole pig’s worth of bacon and sausage.
I argued with Jason for a solid ten minutes that it was too much food. It was all in one ear and out the other. He told me to eat up because I needed a big breakfast for what he had planned. And that was that.
Thoroughly stuffed, we piled back in his truck and headed down Highway 101. Pops had a few lights on at the airfield. A plane sat on the tarmac. It looked like Isaac’s, and I wondered if he was coming or going.
Hannah Jane and Isaac’s wedding was coming up soon. Jase had been given a last-minute invite since he was new to the poker club. He assured them that he didn’t need an invitation considering he hadn’t known HJ and Isaac prior to a few weeks ago, but Hannah Jane insisted.
No one dared cross her, especially now that she was in wedding planner mode for her own nuptials
“So,” I said, scooting a little closer across the cracked vinyl bench seat. “Where ya taking me, flyboy?”
Jason’s smile split across his face. He’d been borderline giddy all through breakfast. His knee kept shaking the booth from the way he was bouncing it. “I told you. It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Well, that’s just too damn bad, baby girl.” He winked, and it sent electricity zipping straight from my nipples to my clit.
Jason had me on a goddamn hair trigger from two little words.
“Did I dress okay?”
He looked down at my denim shorts, loose tank top, and black-and-white Converse. “I brought you clothes for what we’re doing first, but that’s perfect for later.”
I wrinkled my nose as he took a wide curve into Havelock. “You brought me clothes?”
Jase shrugged, “Well, I actually had Bee help me. I didn’t wanna snoop through your shit and piss you off.”
“Now I’m seriously confused about what we’re going to do today,” I yawned.
We rode in silence the rest of the way. The road noise as we bounced down Highway 101 made Jason’s beloved truck feel more like a jalopy. Occasionally, he would unlace our fingers and cover my fist with his hand. Other times, he would drape his arm across my shoulders and trace listless shapes on my bicep.
It felt so right. Natural.
I’d never felt this kind of comfortable with anyone else. Not even Steve.
I wanted to crawl across the bench seat and curl up beside Jase. Let him tuck me under his arm. Part of me chalked it up to us having known each other forever, but that wasn’t all it boiled down to.
He and I were just right for each other.
It was like the moment I saw him sitting in the hospital bed. Two puzzle pieces clicked, finishing a picture.
Maybe what I thought wasn’t in the cards for me, was after all.
“You’ll need to get your driver’s license out,” Jason said as he dropped my hand. He eased his ass off the seat so he could get his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.
“Why?” I asked, grabbing my purse out of the floorboard and finishing around for my wallet.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Before I could get a word in, Jason pulled up to the main gate to the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point.
“Morning,” Jason said as he rolled down his window. He handed our IDs to the military police officer who came up to his window and swept a flashlight across the interior. Another MP stood by my window.
I’d gone in and out of these gates more times than I could count as a kid. I used to know this base like the back of my hand. We didn’t live on base when my dad was stationed here, but I spent every free hour that I wasn’t at home or at school here.
“Air show don’t start for a few hours,” the MP grunted. “Too early to come on base. ”
Jason wasn’t fazed. “We’re on the visitor’s list. Lieutenant Commander Garcia is sponsoring Miss Jacobsen and me.”
The MP who had been at Jason’s window grunted as he plodded back to the guard booth. The one at my window kept a tight grip on his service weapon.
I was tempted to ask Jase what the hell we were doing at the base to begin with, but I didn’t want to spook the MPs. Even if Jase had arranged a sponsor for us to be able to get on base for whatever reason he’d cooked up, the MPs could still hold us at the gate until the sponsor got there.
I didn’t know a Lieutenant Commander Garcia. I assumed he was a friend of Jason’s, though that was weird, too. Cherry Point was a Marine base. Lieutenant Commander was a Naval rank. So, his guy was a Naval officer hanging out with a bunch of Crayon-eaters?
The swish of a flashlight cutting through the darkness grabbed my attention. The MP stuck his hand through the window and handed Jase our IDs. “You’re clear. Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yes, sir. Thanks,” Jase said. “Y’all have a good one.”
The gates parted, and Jase eased the truck through. As soon as he had his window up, I grabbed my driver’s license and stuffed it back in my wallet.
“Wanna tell me what the hell we’re doing on base?” I looked around. There were a few Marines milling around, most likely on duty, working the graveyard shift, but most of the base was still asleep.
Jase turned into the visitor parking lot and cut the engine. There was that stupid I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin on his face again. If he didn’t start giving me answers, I was going to smack that look clean off .
Instead of giving me an answer, he hopped out and reached into the bed of the truck.
“So help me, Jase, if you don’t start telling me what’s going on—” I hopped out of my seat and slammed the door “I’m going to?—”
He shut me up with a kiss. It was nothing obscene, just fast and hard enough to temporarily paralyze me.
“Arms.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Jason sighed and then gave me that slow, pretty boy smile he used to use to get his way back in high school. “Please hold your arms out.”
Arguing was useless, so I just did as I was told. Huffing, I held my arms out like a toddler waiting for help with a jacket.
Jason slipped one strap around my right arm, then the other. The backpack wasn’t too heavy. I assumed it had the aforementioned clothes in it.
“That’s yours,” he said, looking around. I didn’t know what he was looking for until a shadow appeared at the far end of the sidewalk.
Jason lifted a hand to whoever was walking toward us.
Turning to me, he said, “In forty years when we’re old and gray, and neither of us can even recall what we ate for breakfast that morning, I want you to remember this moment.”
“Why?” I whispered. Jason had completely knocked the wind out of me, talking about us spending our elderly years together like he and I were inevitable.
“Remember that I will always listen to you. Always do everything I can to make you happy.” He reached down and slipped my hand into his. “And I promise to always fill your life with adventure.”
The air felt heavy around us. It wasn’t just the sweltering summer humidity. It was the fact that everything he was saying sounded like vows. Like this wasn’t just a first date. It was the first and last date. That whatever happened after this exact moment was going to change us for the rest of our lives.
“Casper.” The man called down the sidewalk as he neared us.
I stifled a giggle at hearing someone actually use Jason’s call sign, but he acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was dark, so I couldn’t get a good look at his uniform, but it looked like a flight suit.
“Bugs,” Jason laughed as he shook the guy’s hand. “Thanks for making this happen.” He let go of my hand and placed his palm on my back. “This is my girl, Melissa.”
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Bugs said, extending his hand to me. “Casper’s told me a lot about you. Lieutenant Commander Conner Garcia.”
I raised an eyebrow at Jason. “Please,” I said as I shook Garcia’s hand. “Call me Mel. Did you serve with Jase?”
Jason chuckled. “It’s been a while. What? Since Djibouti when we flew all those interdictions?”
Garcia nodded. “I think so. Camp Lemonnier. 2015?”
“Ah, yeah—that targeting agent from the CIA was there on base with us. What was her name?” Jason smirked. “Man, you had the hots for that girl. I wonder what happened to her.”
He snickered under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Shelby. Still don’t know if that was her first name or last name. Damn, that woman…” His voice trailed off. “She was something else. The one that got away.”
“Pshhh—I bet you’re drowning in ladies now that you’re with the Angels.”
Angels?
Garcia clapped his hands together. “Life’s pretty good, but let’s cut the reunion short and get this show on the road. We’re burning daylight.”
It was definitely still pitch black outside.
“She got a call sign yet?” he asked, pointing at me.
Jason grinned as he looked down at me. “Yep. Goose.”
Garcia laughed. “Well, Goose,” he said as he stepped into the glow of the street lamp. His blue and gold uniform came into view. “Welcome to the Blue Angels.”