28. Jake
28
JAKE
I haven’t seen or spoken to Iris since Sunday. Our flirty texts have almost kept my need for her at bay. Almost, but not quite.
By the time she walks into the dance studio for the next dance class, it’s all I can do not to rush forward and gather her in my arms. Sure, our physical connection is undeniable and the sex was mind-blowing, but at this point, I want to breathe her in. Drown in that sweet and citrusy scent that is uniquely hers. Revel in the way her body tenses for a quick second before she relaxes into me.
My girl doesn’t let just anyone in, so the fact that I’ve breached her defenses at any level makes me feel ridiculously self-satisfied. It feels like the room shifts to accommodate her presence–just like my stupid heart shifted to let her in fully.
She gathers with Char, Gloria, and the other women in the class at the far end of the studio. They’re clearly talking about the mayoral race, which has turned into a heated battle—or as heated as things get in Skylark—with Joey Moore’s influx of cash. I understand why Cy is bankrolling him, but hate that Iris is being negatively impacted by the mistakes Nick and I made as teenagers.
I made peace years ago with the fact that she blamed me, but I want the past to stay where it belongs—behind us.
Tom Baker sidles up to me. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”
I cross my arms over my chest and give the old man some wicked side-eye. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
My grandfather appears on my other side and elbows me in the ribs. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Jakey.” He turns to Tom. “I wasted three summers pretending I didn’t notice my Sylvia at summer camp. Finally pulled the ol’ head out of my arse when Bobby Park put his arm around her at one of the bonfires. It takes a minute for us Byrne boys to sort out matters of the heart.”
I turn to face my grandpa. “I thought you and Gram were high school sweethearts.”
“We were summer camp sweethearts.” His smile is wistful. “Why do you think we came back here and bought the camp when I retired?”
“But you’ve never done anything with it,” I say.
“It’s part of the foundation’s land trust,” he answers with a shrug. “That’s something.”
“Damn shame it’s not being used,” Tom says. “We had a lot of fun times out on Echoveil Lake.”
“It’s where I asked your grandmother to marry me,” Grandpa says. “Have you been up there since you came home?”
I smile at his use of the word home. Other than the summer after Mikey’s accident, I never lived in Colorado. Even now, I’m only here temporarily. He still doesn’t know that, though.
“Not yet.”
He pats my shoulder. “You should get up there before the first snowfall. The roads get nasty with the ice.”
I can’t help that my gaze drifts to Iris.
“It’s pretty this time of year.” Tom gives me a pointed look. “Romantic, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, but it’s not like that.”
Tom snorts. “A man of your age and good looks should have more game, Jake, but we’ll get you straightened out.”
“Somebody needs to,” Grandpa mutters.
“Iris and I are just friends,” I tell the two octogenarian matchmakers. Friends who have sex, I add silently.
“I’ve seen the way you two move.” Tom shimmies his hips, and I try not to cringe outright. “Based on how it started and how it’s going, I’d say a trip to Echoveil Lake might be just the thing to seal the deal.”
I’m saved from responding when Char claps her hands and indicates class is starting. “The Fun Fest showcase will be here before we know it,” she reminds us. “I want to see you all giving it everything you have during each dance.”
Grandpa winks at me. “Give her everything you have, son.”
“Why are your grandfather and Tom giggling like a couple of schoolgirls?” Iris asks as she takes her place next to me.
“Probably laced their Metamucil with something,” I answer.
It’s clear my grandpa hears, because he laughs harder.
He takes Gloria’s hand and bends over it in a gallant bow, kissing her knuckles and making her laugh softly. “See how it’s done?” he calls out.
Iris stares wide-eyed at me. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” I lie as Char starts the music.
We begin the steps of our first dance, a waltz. “I missed you,” I whisper into her hair.
“We were together a few days ago.”
“It’s not enough,” I say, letting my hand drift lower on her hip.
“Jake, position, please,” Char admonishes me, her voice laced with humor, and I raise my hand to the small of Iris’s back.
“That’s another thing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about,” I say against her ear as we take our first turn. “All the different positions I want you in.”
She misses a step, but I twirl her so no one in the class notices. If she falters, I want to be the one who catches her.
“You have to stop. I’m barely holding it together as it is.”
“Let me do the holding, Iris. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“Jake, you’ve seen the signs Joey put around town. If I’m going to have a chance, I need to dedicate myself to work.”
“We’ll strategize while we eat,” I tell her. “You owe me a date.”
“Your version of fun is dinner and campaign strategies?”
“I’d prefer you and me in bed, but I’ll take what I can get.”
The song comes to an end, and Char gives us a few tips for the salsa, which is up next.
Only three couples are part of this number: Iris and me, my grandfather and Gloria, and Louis and his aide.
I glance down at Iris, expecting to see her exasperated by my teasing—instead, her bottom lip trembles.
“Oh, shit. Are you crying?”
“I don’t cry,” she insists, even as her dark eyes shimmer with tears. “At least I didn’t before Monday night. But I’m not going to cry in the middle of dance class.” Her voice catches on the last word, and one plump tear streaks down her cheek before she can wipe it away.
“We need five minutes,” I call as I take Iris’s elbow and lead her toward the back of the studio. “I’ve got a cramp, and Iris is going to help me work it out.”
“That’s a good one,” Tom shouts with a hearty laugh. “The ole ‘I need you to rub my?—”
“Hush, Thomas,” Janie commands.
“We’re good.” Iris raises her hand, but the fact that she doesn’t argue or pull away tells me everything I need to know.
I lead her to Charlotte’s tiny office and close the door behind us. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes are brimming with tears that she’s trying hard to blink back.
“I really am not a crier.”
“Iris, you can cry all damn day if you need to. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “You don’t mind my tears?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I hate that you’re upset, but tears don’t bother me. How much of a jackass do you think I am?”
She gives a shaky laugh, then grabs a tissue from the box on Char’s desk and swipes it under her eyes.
“I’ll be fine. Really. We should head back and?—”
“Tell me what’s going on.” I place my hands on her shoulders and crouch so we’re at eye level. “Is it the bullshit with the election?”
“It’s you,” she whispers.
Shit. I draw back like she’s slapped me. How did I screw this up so quickly? “What did I do?”
“Not what I thought.” She swallows hard. “Jake, I owe you an apology.”
That’s a shocker. Definitely filing that under things I never expected to hear. Her delicate brows draw together, and I can’t help but reach out to smooth the furrow that appears between them.
“I blamed you for the accident,” she continues, voice steady, eyes fixed on mine. “But I know Nick was driving that night. It wasn’t your fault.”
Every muscle in my body tenses, her words hitting harder than I could have imagined. “Don’t paint me as a hero, Iris.”
I’ve been carrying the weight of that summer for so long. And it’s more than just everything that happened with Nick. Losing Mikey in the boating accident and then the wreck months later—two things I couldn’t control, but I still believe are my fault.
“I shouldn’t have let him get behind the wheel and?—”
She places a finger over my lips.
“I painted you as the villain for so long. Why didn’t you call out my mom on her lie?”
The question hangs in the air between us. I look away, unsure how to answer without revealing too much—more than I’ve ever let anyone see. “You were going through enough already. There was no reason for me to deny what you thought of me when I deserved it. Nick and I were both responsible. It could have just as easily been me.”
“But it wasn’t.” She takes my hand, her eyes filled with a forgiveness I didn’t ask for but somehow need like my next breath. I don’t know if I deserve her, but I want to try to be the man who does. “You also weren’t driving the boat the night your brother died.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” She’s peeling back the layers I’ve spent years building, walls that keep the guilt contained, leaving me raw. “I should have done something. Been stronger or faster. I should have saved?—”
“No.” She cuts me off, cupping my face between her soft hands. “You couldn’t have stopped either accident, Jake.”
I don’t pull away even though I want to. The intimacy of this moment is almost too much, and I’m sure she can feel the way my heart is pounding. For the first time since that summer, I allow myself to wonder if she’s right.
The guilt doesn’t vanish, but her words change something inside me—allowing the faintest whisper of hope to shine through. I told Iris she deserves more than she gives herself credit for, but maybe she’s not the only one. Maybe it’s time to stop punishing myself.
And if I’m going to try to build something new, I want to do it with her, even though it scares the hell out of me.
The thought of building anything new terrifies me—not just with Iris, but in general. I've spent so long defining myself by what I've lost, by the rubble of my past mistakes. The idea of clearing that wreckage away and starting fresh feels like a betrayal of everything that's happened, everything I've done. It's easier to exist in the ruins than to risk constructing something that could collapse all over again.
But staying in this holding pattern isn't living—it's just surviving. And somehow, despite all my defenses, Iris has made me wonder if I'm ready to try something more than just getting through each day. If I'm ready to hope again, to plan again, to believe that I might deserve more than this purgatory I've built for myself. I might just be ready for more.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask as I press my forehead to hers like it’s just the two of us in the world right now.
She laughs softly. “Uh, working? Being the mayor and campaigning to continue being the mayor.”
I pull back and grin down at her. “Even the mayor deserves to play hooky every once in a while.”
She looks affronted. “I’ve never played hooky from anything. Not a day in my life.”
“Let tomorrow be another first.” I kiss the edge of her full mouth. “One day, Iris. No schedules, no responsibilities—just you, me, and the mountains. It’ll be fun.” And possibly the promise of something more.
Her laugh is soft and feels like a victory. “A half-day,” she concedes. “You can pick me up at noon. But if the town falls apart, it’s on you.” It feels like she’s handing me the key to a door we’ve both been afraid to open.
“I don’t want secrets between us,” I say, even as a flicker of guilt sparks across my skin. Spencer Charles isn’t a negative, but it’s still a lie and I need to tell her.
She jerks back at the same time there’s a knock at the door.
“Is everything okay?” Char asks as she peeks her head in.
“Yep,” Iris says brightly and spins on her heel like she hasn’t spent the past five minutes peering into my deepest soul. “We’re ready for our solo.”
Maybe she was reacting to the knock, or perhaps she heard the click of Char’s heels, but something tells me she pulled away for a different reason. There’s no time to question her as we head back into the studio with everyone’s eyes on us.
We take our places, and when her hand settles into mine, I can tell she’s as happy to be in my arms as I am to have her there. I guide us into the first steps, forcing myself to put aside the sliver of doubt that there’s more to her tears than she’s letting on.
As the last notes of the song fade, I hold her gaze for a moment, our connection buzzing in my chest.
“Very good,” Char says as the rest of the class applauds.
Iris steps back and gives the instructor a thumbs up. “We’re getting better.” Her voice is light, and she avoids my eyes. “And we owe it all to you.”
“You okay?” I ask as we line up for the next number.
Her smile is so thin I can practically see through it. “Fine. All good.”
When Char finally claps to signal the end of class, Iris pulls away like the floor’s on fire. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, already heading for the door. Her voice is strained, and she doesn’t wait for a reply.
I glance at the clock, considering whether to follow her or let it go. Pushing doesn’t work with my gorgeous, prickly girl, and I’ll have all afternoon with her tomorrow to coax out whatever she’s hiding. And hopefully find the courage to tell her about my secret.
I’m going to get it right this time—the dancing, my future with the foundation. And, most importantly, Iris.