Chapter 10
ten
Absentmindedly, I reach for the front door and quickly realize it’s already unlocked.
Panic runs through my body because I distinctly remember locking it this morning.
Or, at least, I thought I did. I grab my pepper spray out of my bag before slowly opening the door, preparing to use the skills I learned in my self-defense class on any potential intruder.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, surprised to see Jake sprawled out on the couch, napping.
“Hmm...” He squints, slowly sitting up before glancing in my direction. “You’re home. I didn’t know how long you might be gone.” He drags a hand across his face, trying to wake up from whatever restless sleep he was getting.
“How did you get here? How did you get in the house?”
“Took a rideshare. And your mom keeps a key hidden in the same place she did when we were kids.”
“You remembered?” My brow furrows as my mouth opens slightly. It’s been too long. There’s no way… My mom must have told him about the key. He couldn’t have actually remembered.
Jake crosses the room with his eyes locked on mine. “I remember everything about growing up with you,” he says, flashing a grin that steals my breath away. Warmth spreads through my chest as he gently strokes my cheek. “You’re unforgettable.”
All the warmth I was feeling vanishes, and whatever nostalgic spell he cast over me is gone.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask exasperatedly, causing him to take a step back. “You can’t seriously stand here and call me unforgettable after not speaking to me for fifteen years.”
“I’d never joke about how I feel about you,” he replies, opening and closing his fists slowly.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snap, storming from the living room into the kitchen. “This is typical Jake behavior.”
He follows me into the kitchen and leans against the counter, his arms crossed. “What the hell does that mean?”
I groan in frustration. “You don’t show up for the people who should matter most. And when you finally grace us with your presence, you act like nothing has happened.
Like you weren’t gone for more than a fucking decade,” I shout angrily, my hands shaking as I pace the kitchen.
Suddenly, this house feels too small for the two of us and my deeply buried emotions that refuse to be contained any longer.
He grimaces and inhales sharply. “I know exactly how long I’ve been gone. How long it’s been since we last talked. I remember. All. Of. It.” His jaw clenches as he adjusts his stance, standing ramrod straight with his eyes focused on me. “I know what I did. To you. My mom. Everyone.”
I shake my head, stopping in the middle of the kitchen to look at him.
Trying to reconcile the man I used to know with the one in front of me.
This version of him looks out of place in my mom’s mid-sized kitchen, with its oak cabinets, white appliances, and apple decor, including the oh-so-popular apple border wallpaper.
He’s not meant to be in this small town, not anymore. His life and dreams are too big for it.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I wasn’t planning on playing hostess tonight.” I want to take a shower, order dinner, and get shit done. Jake being here makes that difficult and unbelievably awkward.
He gulps, his head dropping slightly. “We have things to talk about. The funeral. Estate,” he replies, exhaling a long breath.
“And I…I don’t have anywhere else to go.
I can’t stomach the thought of going into my mom’s house, knowing she’s not there.
You and your mom are the only family I have left.
I can find a hotel room nearby if you need me out of your hair.
” His downcast eyes focus on the beige kitchen tile rather than on me.
Unbelievable shame barrels through me. How could I be so careless with my words and let my anger get the best of me?
This isn’t like me. I don’t understand why I’m behaving this way.
His presence makes me feel all of these odd emotions that don’t make sense.
It has to be a combination of exhaustion, grief, nostalgia, and deep-rooted anger.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it,” I say, my hand flying to my mouth as my heart races.
“Yes, you did. I definitely deserve some of it.”
“You don’t.”
“Don’t lie to me. You were never very good at it.” He gives me a sly grin as his eyes meet mine.
“I know. You always said I had the worst poker face.”
“Still do,” he replies, bracing his hands on the counter and looking out the window above the sink.
“I don’t want to complicate your life or cause you any more pain.
If it’s too hard having me here, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.
” He sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair before turning to look at me with incredible pain in his eyes.
“You’re always welcome here,” I reply, stepping forward to reduce the distance between us. “You can stay for as long as you need. We’ll figure it out together.”
He nods solemnly. “I’d like that. I want to help you. It doesn’t all need to fall on your shoulders.” He grabs my hands and squeezes. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Give me a chance to prove you can trust me again.”
“Okay,” I whisper, leaning against his chest as his arms wrap tightly around me.
He slowly rubs my back like he used to when we were younger.
It was one of his surefire ways to comfort me whenever I fought with my mom or my anxiety became overwhelming.
And it has the same effect now. My apprehension about him leaving starts to fade, and my worries about tackling the never-ending to-do list diminish.
All I feel is peace…and an electric charge that’s never been there before, making me instantly nervous about what it means.