5. Now
Chapter 5
Now
I lace up my old, black running shoes and reach for Hyla’s leash, ready to sneak out into the darkness before the rest of the house—and the sun—wake up. We slink out the kitchen door, and the cool breeze hits my back as I stretch. I steal a glance at the house next door: there’s a minivan in the driveway and a new swing set in the backyard where the old treehouse used to be. I didn’t expect the wood to last forever, but the sight of the new plastic one doesn’t sit right.
Hyla and I take off into a slow jog, absorbing Sloane—much like the neighbor’s house, it’s familiar but not the same as when I left. The decorative lights at the start of every driveway, kids running around, and the leaves, as bright and brilliant as they can be in the fall, are as I left them. There are Jack-O’-Lanterns on porches, fried cooking on the air, even early in the morning, and the score of the latest home game is shown on the marquee at the high school. The Farmers Market is still held every Wednesday through Saturday, festivals once a month, and exactly one of everything. The church across from the elementary school still has the same sign it’s had for the last twenty years. There’s a lot that remains the same, but it feels distant now like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Like I don’t belong here anymore.
We make a left on Main Street and run right by Firefly Lounge. The lights are off, but I don’t want to stop. Jase had dreams of being an artist, and he was a damn good one. Now, he works at a bar of all places. What happened? Would he have told me if I'd made a trip back down?
The front door opens, and Hyla and I pick up the pace, staring straight ahead, hoping if it is Jase, he doesn’t see me, yet still kind of hoping he does. What’s wrong with me? I turn up the volume on my earbuds to try and drown out the thoughts in my head, but it doesn’t work. All I can think about is him.
When we get back to Mama’s house, I open the side kitchen door, pour crunchies for Hyla and a glass of water for myself, and gulp it down in three sips. Putting my hands on each side of the sink, I gaze out the side window. Four kids run around the old Magnolia tree between our yards, screaming and playing like we used to do. Dandelions are growing, waiting to be trampled on by a stampede of young feet or plucked by me. I used to twist their stems in between my fingers when there were door slams, screeches, and glass that shattered into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. I’d cringe and flinch and tremble, and Jase would wrap his long limbs around me to keep me safe and warm. He’d rock with me, back and forth, back and forth, until the noise would plummet into a deafening silence we couldn’t ignore.
“Thinking about the boy next door?” Nana enters the kitchen behind me.
I snap out of the haunted memory and turn around. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
Nana is in a bright pink, fluffy prom dress. My prom dress, frills and all.
“I found this in the attic. Isn’t it great?” She twirls.
“It’s something. ” I try to keep my shock in check.
With this, Amy comes trotting into the kitchen in a tight, yellow, floor-length number I wore to freshman formal.
I check my watch. “Did I miss last call for prom, or what is going on here?”
“Oh, we thought it would be fun to spend the day like this.”
“Are you kidding? You’re going to end up in Matilda’s column faster than you can click your clunky heels together.”
Amy shrugs. “So? From what I hear, she’s a gossip columnist who will write about us anyway. Might as well be for something fun.”
I cough. “Something fun is relative.”
Amy puts her right hand on mine. “Relax, it’s for a quick photo shoot to fill in the New Year’s issue before I meet up with Reese’s team on Monday.”
Nana tries to sit, but the chiffon does not cooperate. She gives up and leans against the kitchen counter. “Do you want to come with us, Katie girl? I think I saw another dress up there.”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you, though.”
“Suit yourself,” Nana replies, heading out of the kitchen as quickly as she swished in.
Amy kneels to give Hyla ear scratches. “Hey, ever hear anything from Nick?”
I sigh. “No, but not exactly surprising, I guess.”
“Maybe he’s waiting a few days.”
“Maybe. What’s going on with your work flirtmance?” I counter.
Her eyes narrow. “We’re not talking about me and Leo.”
“Oh, so there is you and Leo?” My phone buzzes. iMessage from Nick. “When did you get a crystal ball?”
She stands. “What?”
I hold up my phone. “He texted me.”
“Maybe I should play the lottery. What did he say?”
NICK SCOTT: “Good morning, beautiful. Is the three-day rule still a thing? It seemed like forever. Can we rule it out next time?”
Amy squeals. “See, I told you he was probably waiting it out. The rule is outdated.”
I can’t help grinning. “He seems pretty old-fashioned.”
“Kind of cute. He did say next time. I think it’s worth a reply.”
Pacing my fingers across the screen, I pause. “And say what? I’d love for there to be a next time … at some point, when my life isn’t falling apart, states away?”
“Come on, Ame,” Nana calls from the other room. “We should get going!”
My best friend shifts. “I mean, maybe start with what’s going on.”
“Would you stick around waiting for someone you went on one date with?”
She puts her hands up in surrender. “He may surprise you. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“Definitely not on a town photo shoot, but I could use some coffee.”
Amy points in my direction. “Deal. But go shower first.”
An hour later, we’re in line outside Java House, enjoying the brisk fall breeze and watching the candy apple leaves sway on the trees. There are six people ahead of us, but with each order, the door opens, and I can catch a whiff of rich espresso brewing a few feet away.
Amy is explaining the difference between a caramel latte and a caramel macchiato to Nana when a familiar, deep voice calls out, “I hear the maple latte is pretty good here.”
My breath catches in my throat, but I don’t turn around. I act like I don’t hear him. When the next group moves forward, we do, too.
Amy and Nana are too deep in their conversation about all the things caramel to notice Jase’s presence.
“Although, it is Pumpkin Spice season,” Jase whispers, his breath cool near my ear.
I close my eyes and try not to inhale his husky cologne. Go away.
“Unless you want to go with old faithful.”
I grit my teeth. “What do you want, Jase?”
“A vanilla latte, then? Borrrr-ing. You should at least go with something apple cidery.” I open my eyes and turn to find his smile as annoyingly perfect as I remember.
Don’t let him break you down, Kate. “Were you always this obnoxious? Or is this a new thing?”
“Oh, come on, Kay. You used to find me endearing.” He’s teasing, but he’s right: I did.
I scoff. “ Used to is the key phrase there.”
Our former elementary gym teacher taps his foot behind Jase, as impatient as he’s always been.
When I turn back around, there’s an open space in line. Okay, maybe the foot tap was warranted. We inch forward.
“Katie girl, what’re you gonna get?” Nana’s attention shifts. “Oh, hello, Jason. Isn’t there anywhere else you could be this morning?”
“Nana …” I warn.
She doubles down. “Well, isn’t there?”
“Wasn’t there another bar y’all could’ve visited yesterday? It’s the charm of a small town.” He shrugs, unbothered.
The door opens, and we walk inside. A brief break from Jase.
Before I know it, he’s inside behind us. “Kay, can we talk a sec?”
“No.” I refuse to look his way.
The barista asks for our order, and Nana and Amy order caramel macchiatos while I ask for a vanilla latte, even though the voice in my head is screaming at me that it’s boring. I don’t care. ‘Boring’ is exactly what I need right now.
“Here, I’ve got this.” Jase holds his card out to the barista. I push his hand into his chest.
“No, thank you.” I tap Apple Pay at the register. His quickened pulse reminds me my left hand is still holding Jase’s, and I recoil. The loss hits me as soon as I let go.
Jase stares at the floor. “You know, you can hold my hand. It doesn’t have to mean something.”
My heart pangs. “Not in this town. I hold your hand once, and everyone will be talking about it.” I mumble, but it’s loud enough for him and me.
He winces, and we look around, seeing the patrons staring and pointing at us.
“Oh, great. Matilda,” I groan.
“Screw her. Screw all of them.” He raises his voice.
The barista calls our order. Nana and Amy grab the coffees and wave me over.
“I have to go.” I brush past him.
“I miss you!” Jase all but shouts as I near the door.
The entire world freezes for a moment.
Matilda is staring at me, phone in hand, ready to print this entire interaction in her weekly column and spread it to any and everyone who will listen … which, for a town this small, is still somehow a lot.
“Good.” I turn my back and walk out of the door.
“Ooh, girl, I am proud of you!” Amy says. “How do you feel?”
The adrenaline from the moment is still going strong. “Energized, but I have more to say.” I backstep to the coffeehouse.
Amy yanks my arm.
“Oh no. If you go in there, it’s going to minimize the power of the whole interaction.”
“But…”
“I know.” Amy pats my back.
We walk past a few businesses and further into town before stopping at the outdoor Farmer’s Market between Main and Broad streets to pick up fresh produce and surprise Mama with dinner.
“This is … busy.” Amy steps back as a postal worker comes rushing by.
“It is.” I take in the crowd of people throughout the lot.
“Of course it is; it’s gorgeous out,” Nana acknowledges and takes off for the jam stand in the middle of the setup.
“The jam booth looks popular.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I roll my eyes. “Jam is probably the thing people in this town fight over the most.”
“I don’t …” Amy trails off as Nana and another older woman grab hold of a jar of Apple Pie spread, each pulling, refusing to give in. “Okkkkkkay. I’m gonna turn around and pretend I don’t see the whole thing happening.” She moves her hand in the air, gesturing to the scene about to go down.
“Told ya,” I say. “Come on, let’s go pick out some fresh bread.”
Amy’s eyes light up. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
We’re a few feet away from Jackie’s Bread Stand when there’s a tap on my shoulder.
I all but jump. “Jase, I thought I told you—” My voice drops as I turn around and stare into the daunting, chocolate brown eyes of the fiery, sixty-year-old, ice blonde in front of me. “Oh Matilda, hi.”
“Hello, Kate. Welcome back.” Her shrill voice hasn’t changed in the years I’ve been away.
My grin freezes in place.
“I’m sorry to hear about your daddy.”
“Thank you.” Despite her genuine tone, I can’t help a chill from running up my spine. She wants something.
Amy must sense trouble because she puts on her professional editor face, complete with a soft smile, and extends her hand. “Hi there, I’m Amy Park, a friend of Kate’s.”
Matilda’s right eye twitches for a brief second before she recovers and shakes Amy’s hand. “Matilda Grey, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
The two women are stuck in a staring contest, trying to out-smile each other.
I interrupt, “Lovely of you to come over, Matilda, but we should get back to shopping for dinner.”
“Oh, sure.” She blinks. “Just a reminder about the Annual Pumpkin Festival tomorrow night.”
“Right … the second Friday in October.”
“Every year,” Matilda sings. “And as you know, everyone … and I mean everyone will be there, if you catch my drift.” She winks.
I sneak away. “Yes, I hear you. Well, as I said, we should get our groceries.”
A scream rings out from the jam stand, causing Matilda to put her right hand to her heart. “Oh, is that Maggie? Bless her heart. See y’all tomorrow.” She princess waves and walks away.
The smile I forgot I was holding drops from my face when I hear her fake-ass bless her heart.
Nana runs over, face flushed. She puts her hands on her knees and leans over to try and catch her breath. “We have to go.”
There’s an older woman with gray hair, small wire glasses, an embroidered scarf, and a leaf-patterned dress hot on our tails. “Maggie Dailey, get your ass back here with my jam.”
Nana spins around to stick her tongue out and blow a raspberry at the woman before picking up speed. “Come on, girls, make a right down this alley.”
We pick up our pace to match Nana and dart down the alley in question. We hide behind a big, blue dumpster and wait for the woman chasing Nana to pass. She steps into the backstreet, and I peek behind the dumpster to see this poor woman who has been chasing us in a dress and heels. What did Nana do? The woman scrutinizes her surroundings, but she doesn’t seem to see us. Her heels click as she runs past us. We collapse on the ground in relief.
Amy grabs hold of her nose. “What died?”
I pat the dumpster. “This.”
Nana laughs erratically.
Amy and I catch each other’s gaze above Nana’s head. She raises her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes all the way back.
“What’s so funny?” I don’t hide the snark in my voice.
“I won.” Nana cackles. “I can’t believe I won.”
“Nan, did you steal the jam?”
“Oh, hell no. I threw a twenty down on the table at the same time Thea did, but the poor girl behind the table said it’s up to us to decide who gets it since it was her last jar. Thea always looks put together, no matter the day, time, or place, and it’s annoying. Plus, we needed a win, so I ran like hell.”
My head sinks into my hands.
Amy’s laughter roars.
I tilt my head a full forty-five degrees.
“Seventy-year-old Mags ran down Main Street like she stole jam when she probably overpaid for it.”
“It was worth it,” Nana counters.
Amy chuckles. “Seriously, Kate, chicken legs over here ran down the street … for jam. ”
I can’t help my belly laugh. Okay, she’s right. Nana, who makes fun of me for running for fun, flew down the street like her life depended on it “for jam.” I say the last part out loud, which starts a new laugh cycle between the three of us.
The Emergency Exit door next to us flings open. Jase exits with an empty keg over his shoulder. He sets it down when he clocks us and puts both arms on his waist. His blue jeans and dark Firefly Lounge tee are both snug in all the right places, and my mind goes a mile a minute. Did his arms get more toned since the coffee house?
He catches me staring and plants his hands on his hips. “See something you like, Kay?”
I fake gag. “Do you always come barreling out of doors like a hurricane?”
He smiles, slow and knowing. “Sweet girl, if I knew it was you on the other side of this door, I may have come barreling out a bit faster.”
I growl.
Nana mumbles, “Hot damn.”
“Amy, Maggie. If not to gawk at the town bartender, is there any other reason you’re hiding behind a dumpster on this fine day?”
Nana stands, straightening her sundress. “This was a pit stop.”
“To?” Jase holds out his hand.
I say, “We were just leaving.”
But Nana counters with, “Panty shopping.”
Jase raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting Nan’s answer. “Oh, really?”
“Katie needed some hot lingerie for her new fella.”
Jase coughs as my cheeks suddenly feel warm, “Well, all right then.” He moves around us to dispose of the keg. “Y’all let me know when my alley is clear again. I don’t want people thinking they can hide out here instead of coming into the bar.”
Jase’s hand connects with the handle, and he turns the knob. The door creeks open, and I think he’s going to go back to work without another word, but he turns around, his green eyes on fire. “Hey, Kay … good luck finding that lingerie.” He winks and disappears into the building.
Jase’s snarky laugh and wink break into my thoughts. When did he become a guy who winks? Nick’s a guy who winks, not Jase.
“Okay … I know it was a joke at first, but I really could use some panties. Your pop and I have had a long, successful marriage, thanks to that store.” Nana points to the Victoria’s Secret knock-off a few doors down.
Even Amy cringes at that one. “I can’t believe Sloane doesn’t have a Target but has an entire store in the middle of town dedicated to lingerie.”
“We’ve got priorities,” Nana quips.
Amy pulls my hand along. “Come on, who knows what Nana has up her sleeve for Pantyland.”
I wince. “Oh, God, can we not call it that?”
“No promises.” She smirks.
While Amy swears by “no promises” when she doesn’t want to break her word, my gaze drifts back to the bar’s back door, to a time and a man who promised everything—and then took it away. I know I’ve needed to let him go for far too long, but what if I can’t? What if I’m incapable of it, because he never let go of his hold on me? First loves aren’t meant to be your last … are they?