3. Now
Chapter 3
Now
M ost of the ride home is a blur of highway and oak, maple, and dogwood trees. I fade in and out of a restless sleep, mostly replaying memories I thought I’d buried deep: of ‘No. I can’t do this … us’ and ‘No wonder he ended things with you’ spinning over and over in my mind.
I blow out a breath and open my eyes.
Amy keeps her gaze on the road. “Oh hey, how’re you feeling?”
I grumble.
“It’s going to be hard to see your dad after all these years, but Hyla and I are here for you—no matter what happens.”
Hyla stretches in the backseat, and I extend my hand to give her head scritches. She leans into me, far too good for this world. “I know. I honestly can’t believe you picked me up and split a fourteen-hour drive to Sloane, of all places. I don’t deserve you.”
Amy smacks her lips. “Would you stop already? There’s no way I was going to let you do this alone, and Hyla would not have put up with you leaving her for a month or boarding her on the back of a plane.”
Amy’s right. My precious, spoiled girl, who’s currently curling up into a husky ball, would not have stood for airplane shenanigans.
Amy flicks the turn signal and shifts into the right lane. “Besides, we lucked out with Reese being the next cover. Convincing Lucy to come to Tennessee and wrap up the January article here was the easy part.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Oh please, saving the mag money was all she needed to hear … and I may have bribed her with a few bottles of bourbon we’ll need to pick up on our way home.”
I pat her right hand. “Thank you.”
She grins. “You’re welcome.”
The clock on the dash reads eleven thirty a.m. right as we pass a sign saying Sloane, TN - 1 mile.
“Speaking of bourbon …”
Amy finishes my sentence. “Way ahead of you.”
My gaze wanders to the backseat. Hyla’s awake and ready for a Tennessee pitstop. The one thing I’ve missed: while New York has plenty of it places, few of them will tolerate pets, while the Nashville area is full of dogs—everywhere. It’s almost rude if you leave your dog at home.
Amy turns onto Main Street, trying to avoid a few runners in marathon training mode. “When’s Sloane’s 5K again?”
“In a few weeks, I think.”
She clicks her tongue. “I don’t think I could ever take up running, you know, because I like food and hate exercise.”
“Says my size two friend.”
“That shit is all genetics. Skinny doesn’t mean healthy.”
“Okay, make a left at the light. We’ll see what Fran’s Diner has on spec—wait, what happened to Fran’s Diner? What’s Firefly Lounge?”
Amy pulls into a parking spot and shrugs. “Well, I have no idea. Are you sure it was here?”
“Positive.” With its vintage trolley car design, bright colors, and cheerful owner, Fran’s Diner had been a staple of Calhoun County since … well, forever, and the burgers were the one thing I was looking forward to while in town.
We unbuckle, get out of the car, and walk up the stone path. Amy runs inside for drinks while Hyla and I look for a table.
The new, modern wooden building has a large, shaded patio with white string lights hanging overhead. It’s like a weird déjà vu, and I absentmindedly touch my wrist with my thumb.
Amy exits the bar, two Old Fashioneds in hand. She hands me one and lifts the other. “A toast to you facing the past.”
I clink my glass to hers. “With help.”
She sips her cocktail, sets it on the table, and glances around at the décor. “I know this place has new ownership, but it’s exactly like you described …”
My gaze goes back to the Firefly Lounge sign. There’s something about it.
“Kay, is that you?”
Kay. My breath hitches in my throat. There’s only one person who used to call me that, but I couldn’t be that unlucky to see him within the first five seconds I’m in Sloane, could I?
“Kay?” His deep voice swirls in my ears again. Dammit.
I release my breath, close and re-open my eyes, stand, and turn around. Sure enough, I’m face-to-face with the man I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget: Jason Cole.
It should be freaking illegal for your ex to look as good as Jase looks now. I’d know his stormy green eyes and buzz cut anywhere. His arms look like they’ve doubled in muscle mass, and now he has a little scruff on his face. It’s not unruly … just enough to be hot as hell. Screw him. How does he get to shatter my heart and look like … like … a damn model?
“I didn’t realize you were in town.” I catch the drop in his voice. Is he concerned?
“I didn’t realize you never left.” I snap back at him, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.
He doesn’t wince, but Amy does.
“Okay.” She steps in between us. “Well, this has been fun, but we still have a full day ahead of us and have to get going.”
Jase looks down. “Who’s this?” He crouches to say give Hyla pets.
She wags her tail and leans into Jase. Judas.
“This is Hyla,” I grumble.
“Hey, Hyla, you’re such a cutie.”
She rolls over for a belly rub, and he complies with a smile.
I roll my eyes—hard—and grip the edge of the table. My deeply ingrained Southern manners begin piecing together polite reasons to leave, but my inner New Yorker doesn’t have the time or patience for small talk with Jase.
He shifts his gaze up to meet mine, green eyes pleading. “Kay—we should talk.”
My traitorous heart skips a beat. “We have to see my mama.”
Jase stands and puts his hands in his pocket. If there’s one thing he understands, it’s that family comes first.
Hyla glares at me, knowing full well I made the petting stop, and she is not happy.
I gather our things and walk to the car.
Amy leans in and mutters, “You did great, girlfriend.”
“Hey, Kay,” Jase calls after me.
I pivot to face him.
“The red suits you.”
Out of instinct, I reach for my hair and focus on inhaling and exhaling.
Amy leans in again. “He got to you, huh?”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Amy knows as well as I do that it was more than what he said. It’s as much what he didn’t say. We have history, and sooner or later, we’re going to need to talk about it—but that day is not today.
I huff to the car before she catches me.
“I knew it,” she exclaims. “You still have feelings for him.”
“I do not,” I lift my fingers for air quotes, “have feelings for him.”
“No?” She puts her seatbelt on and pokes my leg.
“No. Jase is locked in my past, thank you.”
Amy gives me a hard stare. “Far be it for me to state the obvious here, but he doesn’t appear to be locked anywhere. Nor does he want to be.”
I grunt as she puts the car into gear. “It doesn’t matter what he wants.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s not acknowledge the ‘do me’ eyes you were both giving each other in between giving Hyla love, which I know is your weakness—a hot man who loves your dog.”
A deep groan escapes my throat. “He is hot, isn’t he? It’s not fair. I mean, how does that even happen?”
“I hate to break it to you, love, but I did some Insta-stalking, and Jase has always been fine. But yeah, in person, he is a lot hotter.”
“Why are you Insta-stalking him? And how?” I fling my arms outward and grunt. “Aren’t there rules in a breakup? Something like the heartbreaker gets old and ugly and the person broken up with gets to … to win . It’s not hard.”
Amy nods in agreement, but her lips curl into a sly smile. She doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
We ride the last few blocks in silence until we pull into my parents’ driveway.
I adjust the seat back and sink into it.
She puts her hand on top of mine. “The sooner we go in, the sooner we have answers and can start working on healing that broken heart of yours.”
Taking a deep breath, I open the passenger side door, climb out of the car, and turn to face the life I left behind. Mama comes running from the house, the worn screen door slamming behind her.
“Hey, Mama.”
She pulls me into a long, loving hug as if no time has passed.
I lean in and inhale the floral, citrusy punch of her Sweet Magnolias perfume. It’s one of my favorite scents in the world because it reminds me of her. I gulp and get the courage to ask the question I’ve been avoiding but know she’s been waiting to hear. “How’s Dad doing?”
She responds by pulling me into a deeper hug, sobbing.
I hold onto her frail frame as she cries for hours or minutes; I don’t know. Sloane is a complete time blob. “Mama?”
She sniffles. “He’s not doing well, baby.”
Amy pats my back and excuses herself to get Hyla and the bags out of the car.
“Come on. Let’s head inside. We don’t need a busybody seeing us out here and adding whatever they please to the rumor mill.”
She sniffles again and walks us to the front door. Stepping foot into the living room brings back a carousel of memories: the back of the big, gray sectional in front of me, ready for company. The twice recycled coffee table, where Nana swindled us in rounds of Rummy. The thirty-two-inch TV, as dusty as it was six years ago, and the same old area rug we rolled in one cool, fall day, and the carpeted wraparound staircase off to the side, leading to rooms full of secrets and pain. Six years away doesn’t ease the sting of heartbreak or make the wounds any less deep.
“Kate.” Mama’s brows furrow as she looks around the room and back at me. “Would you like some tea?”
Mama’s sweet tea is unlike anything else around. I gather my thoughts and follow her into the kitchen.
The 90’s checkered tile floor is sparkling, the faint scent of lemons still lingering in the air.
Mama fills three glasses and gestures for Amy and me to sit at the old oak table.
Amy pulls out the captain’s chair, and Mama and I both scream, “Not that one!” right as the front left leg crashes onto the floor.
“What the hell?” Amy jumps back in the nick of time.
“It needs to get fixed,” Mama offers, tilting her head off to the side.
I pull out the other end chair as Amy slides into the table’s side bench. “It’s been needing to get fixed for fifteen years, Mama.”
She waves her arm in my direction. Hush.
“Mama, what happened?”
She cries again.
I rub circles into her back. “It’s okay, take your time.”
“I don’t know what happened. Your daddy collapsed, sweetie. He was lying on the kitchen floor when I found him. He says he got dizzy, but when he sat down, he missed the chair.”
“What happened next?”
Her breath slows. “He went to the hospital, and they found the tumor.”
“How bad is it?”
“I don’t know. I kind of blocked everything out after they said—” She breaks off into more tears. “The ‘c’ word.”
Shifting my chair closer to hers, I pull Mama into my arms and close my eyes to brace for the tears. We stay like this for a matter of minutes before the front door swings open, jolting us apart.
“Lizzie! Katie girl! Ame!” Nana calls our names one by one, then heads into the kitchen, squinting. “Oh, there y’all are. Len, they’re in here!” she shouts back at Pop as he steps foot in the house, paper bags in hand.
He follows Nana into the kitchen, sets the groceries down, and extends his arms as his face lights up.
I jump into my grandpop’s warm embrace and squeeze.
He holds on for a moment before patting my back twice and pulling back to study me. “Well, look at you.”
“Look at you, ” I counter. “Have you gotten stronger since your visit this summer?”
Pop’s smile reaches his eyes. “I’ve been trying but had a little help … but you—you’re as pretty as ever, Katie girl.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
“Hey, Kate, why don’t you and Amy go unpack and wash up upstairs, and we can let you know when it’s time for dinner,” Mama offers.
“Oh, Mrs. Dailey, we can help with dinner,” Amy counters.
Mama puts her hand up in objection, and we silently agree and take our luggage upstairs.
After showing Amy to the guest room at the end of the hall, I tiptoe to my old bedroom out of habit. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before turning the brass knob.
Nothing’s moved since I left, except the overturned dresser that’s made its way upright again. The queen bed my parents put in here when I turned sixteen still sits in the middle of the room, a fluffy, green comforter not a bit out of place. Four pillows rest on the bed, two on each side. The small closet is inches away, with a floor-length mirror hanging over the doorway, and my desk is to the side of it, followed by a bench at the bedroom window. The wooden window frame holds hundreds of scrape marks, years of pebble-throwing leaving their mark. The same ol’ Magnolia tree is still standing tall in the sideyard, waiting for me to climb down her on my way to meet up with the boy next door. The boy who changed everything.
I wish I could blink away the memories, but instead of fading away, they get stronger and stronger, until they’re all I see.
Until he’s all I see.