Chapter 20 #2
The breath stops in my lungs, and the entire table goes absolutely silent. I assume the chaos of the bar continues to swirl around us, unaware of how my entire world is shifting on its axis, but my focus is laser sharp, looking straight at Jesse, who suddenly looks both crushed and furious.
“But what do I know, right? Fuck it. I shouldn’t be here. Have a great date, Kev. I wish you both the fucking best.” Then he stands, leaving his half-drunk beer on the table and walking out the door.
brEAKTK
Wren gives Kevin her profuse apologies for her brother, who, to his credit, doesn’t also storm out.
Instead, he finishes his drink before making his excuses, saying he has an early morning the next day and needs to get home.
I wish him a good night, and he gives me the world’s most awkward hug before heading out the door.
But when it’s over, and Wren tries to get my attention, giving me wary glances across the table, I know she probably wants to drag me to the bathroom and ask what happened and if I’m okay, but I ignore her.
Instead, I act as if everything is totally and completely normal as Madden, Wren, and Adam all try to pretend that wasn’t the weirdest exchange.
Thank God for good friends who know when you need to sit in your delusion.
When I finish my drink, I stand and let out the world’s fakest yawn ever. “I think I’m going to head out. I’m super tired. Madden, do you need a ride?”
He looks at me assessingly, checking his watch that shows it’s barely even nine, then shakes his head. “No, I’m okay, but let me walk you—”
I give him a firm shake of my head. “No need.”
He assesses me, reading me the way only a friend can, before he nods his acceptance with a defeated sigh.
“Text me when you get home,” he says, but I don’t answer, my mind long past what happened at the bar and turning into anger.
Quickly, I bid everyone goodbye and wave to my brother, who gives me a similarly confused look, before I nearly run to my car. I drive home with my mind in a daze. I don’t go to my place, though. I drive straight to Jesse’s, slamming my fist on the door as soon as I’m there.
Then I decide he doesn’t deserve the decency of my knocking, so I fling the door open, letting myself in and storming inside.
He’s on his way to me, his hair an absolute mess, irritation on his face, and dark circles under his eyes as we meet in the living room, where I push his chest as soon as I’m within touching distance, fighting the urge to slap him instead.
“What the fuck, Hallie?” he says, stumbling back, and his indignance stokes the flames of my anger.
“What the fuck? You’re asking me, what the fuck?”
“You just stormed into my house and pushed me? Yeah, I think I’m allowed to ask what the fuck.”
“What in the fuck was that, Jesse?”
“What was what?”
I step back, taking in a deep breath through my nose with my jaw so tight, my teeth grind.
“Don’t play stupid. What was that at The Mill? Interrogating Kevin like that?”
He rolls his eyes at me like I’m being dramatic. “That was me protecting you.”
I shake my head, jaw dropping as I let out a scoff of a laugh. “Protecting me? From what? A man not knowing my favorite drink on the second date? I didn’t realize that was a threat to my well-being.”
He shakes his head. “I was just trying to show you he doesn’t know anything about you! You shouldn’t be wasting your time with him.”
“We’ve been on two dates, Jesse! And even then, who cares?” My voice is taking on a frantic edge, and his face is taking on a similar one. Somehow, I know this tentative friendship we’ve formed is about to implode.
“He’s not good enough for you.”
“What do you know about good enough for me? He’s fine,” I say, and he shakes his head mournfully.
“You don’t deserve fine, Hallie. You deserve perfect.
You deserve spectacular. You deserve a man who knows you hate when ketchup touches your food.
You deserve a man who knows you would rather die than drink a beer and that you never wear the proper footwear because you’d rather be comfortable than safe.
And I don’t expect him to know all of that on the first or the second date, but at the very least, he should know your eyes are fucking green. ”
Something warm blooms in my chest, and I fight it back. Unfortunately for my sanity, he’s not done.
“I know your favorite color is robin’s egg blue and that you keep celery on hand even though you don’t eat it because you made friends with a deer.
I know you take too much fucking creamer in your coffee and that you have a freckle on your hip that I really can’t stop thinking about.
I know what it sounds like when you’re laughing because you feel like you’re supposed to, and what it sounds like when you’re laughing because you really thought a joke was funny. ”
His voice lowers, and my throat aches as he takes a small step closer.
“Jesse,” I say, my voice frail even to my own ears.
“He doesn’t know those things, but I do. I do, and it kills me to know you’ll give him a shot, but not me. Because what I know most of all is that you are meant to be mine.”
All of the fire I stormed in here with is gone, leaving smoldering embers in its wake.
He closes the gap between us, and my breathing halts, my heart beating so hard in my chest I’m shocked it’s not audible. He shifts his arm, sliding it along my lower back and pulling me into him, and against my better judgment, I let him.
“I can’t do it, Hallie,” he murmurs so low, but I hear him all the same.
“Do what?”
“Watch you fall in love with someone else, watch you let him in and give him a chance. I can’t do it.” From the look on his face, it’s a startling confession even to him, but he gives it to me nonetheless. “Not when I want that to be me.”
Everything in me comes crashing down.
Reality merges with girlish dreams and shatters into new understanding as panic fills me. “Jesse—”
“I know you said it was temporary, and I got it. I still do. I was all for it, but you and I both know that night wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just getting out of our systems, Hallie. It was more. It was us. It worked so well because we were always supposed to be that, and it terrifies you.”
My jaw slackens, and my breath comes in short, panicked breaths as I stare into his hazel eyes. I can’t help but recognize that he knows my eyes the same way I know his gold and green flecks, the tiny freckle beside his left eye, and the scar on his chin.
“You’re out of your mind,” I whisper.
“Fuck it. Then I’m out of my mind. That doesn’t change how I feel about you.” And then his head is dipping, his lips are on mine, and the world melts away.
It’s just as perfect as the first time in Vermont.
It’s as healing as it was on Saturday and filled with need and desire and adoration as it was that night.
Its lips and tongues and teeth, and my hands move up to cup his face, to hold him closer, to stop him from retreating.
I have no idea what will happen next, but in this moment, I need this. I need him.
We continue like this, his body pressed to mine, a hand in my hair holding me where he wants me, my hands on his jaw grounding me before he finally pulls back and looks down at me, pleading and need on his face.
“Please,” he murmurs against my lips. “Give this a shot, Hallie. You belong here. With me. With Emma. I know you see that.”
For a moment, I almost give in. I almost say fuck it, throw all my worries and concerns away, and do as he asks—as he pleads. Maybe I could be brave, maybe I could try this, maybe I could give in to what I’ve always wanted for more than just a night.
“Let’s see if we can make it work,” he adds, and the voice in my head whispers to me. See? Even he doesn’t think it could really work. Don’t be stupid. You’ll do something stupid, and he’ll leave you the first chance he gets, and then what will you have?
I’m fighting with myself, battling to try and convince myself it would be worth it, worth the risk, worth the heartache, when my phone dings with a new text in my pocket, followed by another, and then my phone rings with a call, and reality sets in.
It’s probably Madden checking to see if I got home or Wren calling to see if I’m okay.
Good people.
My friends.
The family I’ve forged for myself. And with those tiny mechanical sounds, reality comes in.
“I can’t,” I say, dropping my hands and stepping back. Resignation washes over his face, shoulders dropping with my words.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jesse asks softly, though he doesn’t stop me from moving away.
I shrug, my eyes stinging.
“Does it really matter?” I ask, my voice cracking as I take a step back. I need to go back to my place. I need to get out of here, out of this familiar place that feels too much like home for my sanity.
Again, he doesn’t stop me.
Instead, the look of confusion, hurt, and, strangely enough, determination crossing his face is the last thing I see before I turn and run out the door, get into my car, and drive the short way home.
I unlock the door with shaky hands, then lock it behind me and text Madden that I made it inside, adding some stupid GIF in hopes that he’ll think I’m fine.
Next, I quickly call Wren to tell her I’m okay, knowing if she doesn’t hear my voice, she’ll panic, and the last thing I need is her showing up at my front door.
I hold it together.
I assure everyone I love that I’m okay.
And then I lie in my bed and cry until I fall asleep.
brEAKtk
I bow out of family dinner on Sunday, citing a stomach ache, and no one questions it. Monday, I’ll deal with reality, but this weekend, I just want to wallow.
But when Monday comes, and I step out my front door for the first time since Friday night, there’s a box with a light blue bow on top. I look around, confused, before bending to lift the box and heading back inside to carefully inspect it. When I lifted the lid, though, a rock settled in my chest.
A pair of boots.
A note written on a slip of paper, like he tore it off the bottom of some paper Emma brought home from school. Stop being stubborn.
The boots fit perfectly, in case you were wondering.
I tried not to think about it too long, what he meant by 'stop being stubborn'.
The simple explanation was that he wanted me to stop being stubborn and wear boots acceptable for living on a farm in the middle of winter, so I wouldn’t slip on ice and fall on my ass and get hurt.
But another part of me thought he meant it differently: stop being stubborn and give us a chance.
Can’t or won’t—the answer is the same. Jesse and I can never happen.