Chapter 8 #2
A droplet slid down from his short mustache and onto his plump top lip. He must not have noticed it as it clung there, begging me to lick it dry for him.
I forced my gaze back to Karla and Lily. My eyes shifted between the two playing and Jones. It was hard not to take him in when I was missing a decade of summer’s worth of seeing him.
He must have noticed me looking his way as he shifted and turned my way. “Hey you,” he said in a teasing tone with a curl to his lips.
I managed a stammered greeting in return. Jones wasn’t fazed by my sudden lack of words and only smiled wider.
“Let’s get your stuff inside. Did you and Karla eat yet?” Jones asked and gestured for me to open the trunk.
“We did. I can take that,” I said and tried to grab the heavy duffel bag out of his hands, but he merely smiled and kept his hold on it tight, leaving me to grab my computer bag and the pie dish.
I called to Karla to stay in the front and told her we’d be right back before following Jones inside the cabin.
He showed me the room Karla and I would be staying for the night, and we dropped off our bags.
“Oooh, is that pie?” Jones asked back in the kitchen. I placed the dish on the island, and he was quick to open the lid to take a peek.
“I made my grandma’s Concord grape pie. I remember it used to be your favorite. Grandma always had to make two pies when you were over since you’d try to hog it all for yourself,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Jones said softly. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes as he stared hard at the pie. Finally, he said, “I didn’t know you knew how to make it.”
“I asked her for the recipe a few years back. It might not be as good as hers, but I think I make a pretty good replica,” I replied with an awkward chuckle.
His hard gaze moved from the pie and landed on me. His brow was furrowed and pain was clearly written in his eyes.
“But why? You don’t even like pie. ”
The question came out raw, his voice hoarse with emotion and his eyes searching mine. It stopped me in my tracks, leaving me unable to voice a reply.
We stayed like that for a second, just staring at each other, silent with only the sound of Karla’s laughs echoing from the open front door.
Jones snorted, then answered himself. “Well, I guess your tastes could have changed. It’s been a decade, after all,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m sorr?—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off and sighed. He faced the open door, where we could see Karla and Lily still chasing each other outside. This time, Karla was the chaser.
“We should head back out there,” he said and placed the lid back on the pie.
I nodded and followed him outside. It was a stupid idea to bring him a pie. Like he’d said, a decade had passed, which was more than enough time for tastes to change. Why didn’t I even consider that maybe his had as well? Maybe he now hated Concord grape pie, since it might remind him of me.
Could someone go from loving something to hating it? Or someone ?
I was still contemplating the thought when I took a seat in the rocking chair beside Jones. The chairs were so close that our arms brushed with each rocking motion.
Karla was still playing with Lily out on the front lawn, but she must have gotten tired from all the running since she was sitting on the grass now. She’d found a ball somewhere and threw it while Lily fetched it for her.
We watched them play for a few minutes. It was then that I noticed we had a perfect view of the slowly setting sun from our seats. It was a familiar view I’d witnessed over countless summers on the hill behind Jones’ cabin, with him by my side.
Even after a decade, some things never changed.
I peeked a glance at Jones. He was smiling as he watched Karla and Lily play, then his gaze shifted to the sunset, and a gentle expression settled on his face.
“I asked for the recipe because I missed you,” I managed to find the courage to say.
Jones’ head spun toward me, eyes comically wide before narrowing with suspicion.
“You could have answered my calls or replied to the dozens of messages I sent you. Hell, I even emailed you,” he replied, sounding more sad than angry.
“I was right here, waiting for you like I did every summer. You’d go back to the city, and I’d count down the days until the following summer when you’d return.
Just like we’d promised. I was always here, and you just threw me away like you didn’t need me anymore. ”
His voice cracked, and my heart ached at the pain I’d caused him.
“I know and I’m sorry?—”
“Stop apologizing to me!” he yelled loud enough for both Karla and Lily to turn our way. Jones took a calming breath, forced a smile on his face, and waved to them. I did the same, and they went back to their playing.
As soon as they stopped looking our way, Jones dropped his smile.
“Just tell me why you never reached back out to me. Was it because I kissed you?” he asked, and the kiss in question replayed in my mind.
I could still remember how soft his lips had been when he kissed me on our hill, under the setting sun that painted the entire world in a cozy, hazy yellow. I’d gasped, surprised at the action, and clumsy, it being my first kiss and all.
Jones licked his lips as if remembering the kiss, too, which had me focusing on them. They were probably just as soft as they were in my dreams. Though his cheeks had been smooth and free of a beard back then. I wondered how those curly strands would scratch me now if we kissed.
I forced my eyes away yet again and looked at my lap. The man must have placed a spell on me to keep focusing on that specific part of his anatomy.
“It was a part of it,” I admitted. “The kiss confused me. I’d never even thought of you that way, and then you kissed me and suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about you that way.”
It took him a second for my words to sink in, then a sweet smile appeared on his face, and he tentatively reached for my hand that was clutching the rocking chair’s armrest. It brought me back to the first time we met.
It was the first summer I’d visited Grandma’s winery, and I’d gone to play by myself. I’d gotten lost by some river and was crying since I couldn’t find my way home, when a boy crept up beside me and reached for my hand.
I still remember how soft they were as he pulled me to play with him, then guided me back to my family. Now, Jones’ hand was rough when it landed on the back of mine. I flipped my palm up to twine our fingers together and gripped him tightly.
“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have talked through whatever worries you had and worked it out together. I wouldn’t have held it against you, even if you hated the kiss.”
I laughed. “I didn’t hate the kiss,” I replied softly.
What looked like hope rose in his eyes. “You didn’t?”
I shook my head to confirm. “I think that’s part of the reason I was so confused. I shouldn’t have liked kissing a man. It’s not the norm, you know?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied instantly. “I’m gay.”
“Oh, I’m—” I stopped myself before I could apologize again, but Jones’ smile told me he was fucking with me. “Afterkissing you and a lot of overthinking, I realized I’m demisexual. ”
“Yeah? You just weren’t attracted to me then?” he asked, the teasing smile still on his face.
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth now,” I joked back. His hand still gripping mine gave me the courage, so I sucked in a deep breath and continued, “My dad got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer right after we returned to the city.”
“Shit.” He squeezed my hand.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was late stage, so everything happened way too quickly.”
His grip tightened, and I shot him a grateful look. “I’m not trying to use my dad dying as an excuse for ghosting you,” I said.
“I know,” he replied and held my hand impossibly tighter. The heat of it was soothing something inside of me. “You were going through a lot.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a lie that I ran away.
From you. I was so confused, and I wanted to take my time to organize my thoughts before contacting you again.
Then I learned I only had a couple of months left with my dad, and I couldn’t just call you out of nowhere to tell you that my dad was dying while leaving everything unsettled between us. ”
“You could have. I would have understood,” was his reply, but he laughed when he saw the expression on my face.
“I would have felt even shittier than I do now,” I explained.
“So I was going to wait until everything was over to contact you, but I kept second-guessing myself. What was I going to say when I messaged you? How was I going to apologize? So I kept delaying it, and as time passed, I felt stupid for overthinking it in the first place. Then summer came and went, and I stayed in the city…I thought it might be better if I just stayed out of your life.”
“It wasn’t. I went by Granny Lottie’s winery every day that summer to look for you. Then again over the next summer, even though she’d already sold the place and it was unlikely you’d be there.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I really am.”
“I don’t accept your apology,” he replied firmly.
My mouth dropped to the ground. His not forgiving me had always been a possibility, but maybe because I’d taken Jones’ kindness for granted, I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for him actually rejecting my apology. What was I supposed to do now?
Jones took one more look at my expression, then laughed.
Gently, he used his free hand to close my mouth, his thumb softly sweeping over my cheek along the way.
My lids fluttered closed at the gentle action, and my mind raced, wondering if this was the last time he’d touch me like this.
For him to not forgive me, he must hate me so much now…
“I won’t forgive you,” he repeated, probably just to jab the knife deeper into my heart. “I won’t let you think you can just apologize, then run away again.”
“That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind!” I insisted. He merely smiled and used his thumb to swipe the area under my eye again.
“It doesn’t matter if it had. I’m not letting you run again. Instead, you can make it up to me by staying here, by my side. Can you do that?”
A laugh choked out of me. “It’s not just me anymore. I have Karla to think about. She’ll always come first.”
He shrugged. “And I have Lily, and I think they love each other more than they do us,” he said, gesturing to where they were now napping under the shade of a tree. Karla was using Lily as a pillow, looking so adorable as they snuggled up together.
It was impossible not to smile at the sight. I refocused on Jones and said a little helplessly, “You know that’s not the same thing.”
“I know, but I’m not asking for a commitment or anything.
I’ll be happy with both of you around. And if you really have to go, all I ask is that you tell me this time and don’t disappear again.
You can even write a letter if you can’t do it in person, just don’t ghost me again.
Please,” he said, sounding a little desperate.
I hated knowing I was the one who made him like this, but if my staying could help mend a bit of the trust I’d broken, then there was no way I’d refuse.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful and uncertain.
I smiled, and, embodying the brave boy who’d filled my summers, I mustered up my courage and did what I’d been thinking about for way too long .
I kissed him.
This time, Jones was the one gasping with surprise. His lips were as soft as they were in my dreams, but dreams could never compare to the real thing. His beard scratched my smooth cheeks as he parted my lips for more, making not only my skin tingle, but my heart as well.
And just like that, under the same lazy haze of the sunset over a decade later, all was right again.