12. Then Nine Years Ago
Chapter 12
Then: Nine Years Ago
"N o, no, no, what are you doing?” From the passenger seat, Jase throws his hand onto the worn dashboard of my old Plymouth Sundance.
“Stopping at the stop sign.” I take my right hand off the wheel to gesture to the bright red hexagon we’re approaching.
“You can’t stop in second gear. Shift to neutral.”
“It’s stopping.”
He sighs. “You’re going to stall.”
“No, I’m not.” But sure enough, the car stalls, and I can’t get it to move at all. “What’s happening?”
“You stalled.” He brings his hands to his face. “Okay. Okay, foot on the clutch, and move the car into neutral.”
“It shut off?” I bring my ear down to the dash to see if I can hear anything.
“Mhmm.”
Panic floods my mind. “Is it safe? Oak’s kind of busy for there to be cars hanging out in the middle of the road.”
Jase runs his left hand through his buzzcut. “Trust me, Kay, no one’s gonna miss you in this.”
My jaw drops open. “I knew you had a problem with teal! Why do you hate it so much?”
“I don’t ‘hate it,’” he says with air quotes. “I just think this particular color belongs on a Peacock and not a car.”
“Rude!” I swat at his basketball shorts.
“Kay … can you please put your car in neutral?”
“Lily,” I reply.
Jase twists to face me. “What?”
“Her name is Lily.”
The back of Jase’s head hits the seat rest. “Okay. Can you please put Lily in neutral?”
I reach my left foot over the clutch pedal and adjust the shifter to neutral. “Okay.”
“Keep your left foot on the clutch, move your right foot to the break, and turn the key.”
“Okay.”
“Put it back into first.” He shakes his head. “Why did we think you were ready for the road?”
“Um, you thought . I was ready to go to bed, but you insisted I ‘was ready for the road.’”
“Are you kidding me? Are you messing with me right now?” he scolds me.
I tilt my head ninety degrees. “What?”
“I’m the one who pushed you on the road? You haven’t been asking me for the last week?”
I turn the car off and cross my arms, anger seeping from my pores. “Fuck you!”
Jase blinks three times rapidly. “What?”
I arch my brow and hold my ground. “You heard me. You’re not the only one who can be a dick.”
“You’re frustrating. I’m trying to help you.”
“Please take me home, Jase. If I’m going to be hollered at, I’d rather be at home.” Where I can hide and be alone.
These words nullify his anger instantly, like rain to a flame.
Jase reaches his hand out, but I ignore it. “Come on, Kay. You don’t mean it. I’m sorry—I’m tired.”
I open the driver’s side door and storm to the passenger’s side. “Switch with me. Please. I want to go home.”
He locks his door and shakes his head. “Can we try again?”
I turn away from him, not entertaining his pleading green eyes.
“Okay. We can go home, but you can drive.”
“No. Switch with me.”
“Kay,” he begs.
It’s too late for soft. There’s heat rushing through my body, and I’d rather be anywhere but here. “Jase, get in the driver’s seat.”
Rain seems to come out of nowhere, cascading to the ground and bouncing back up. A late summer storm. Cursing, I stomp down the road.
Jase hops out of the passenger seat and slams the door closed. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“What? Kay, come on, get back here.”
I turn around, sure that the mascara on my face is running with the rain. “No.”
“Come on, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, now I’m ridiculous? Got it.”
He waves his arms in the air. “Kay.”
I keep walking, but Jase runs to catch up to me and pulls my arm back. “Hey, please talk to me.”
I blink to hide the tears.
“Kay, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go home.”
I study the raindrops. “And you’ll drive?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I got frustrated. I know you’re learning, and the weather sucks.”
I nod.
He pets my hand. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to do that again.” Jase pulls me in close. He holds me while it rains. The tears fall, and I can feel the hollow ache in my heart and the simultaneous beating.
Clink. Clink.
By the time the second pebble hits my bedroom window, I almost have it open.
Jase is standing by the base of the Magnolia tree, holding a handful of dandelions out toward me, his grin wide, even in the pouring rain.
“Please don’t think cheesin’ it down there with a pile of wilting weeds is gonna get me to climb down this tree again today.”
“Oh, come on, Kay,” he calls up. “I said I was sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
“How?” I cross my arms.
“I have ways.” He wiggles his eyebrows up at me.
“No, thanks.” I pull at the window.
“Would you rather I go around front and ask your parents to see you?”
Nope. I push my legs out the window and grab the nearest branch to help wrap my body around the tree on my way down. “Now, why would you go and involve them?”
Jase extends his arms. “If you want to drop, I can catch you.”
I roll my eyes, but in the rain, my footing isn’t as stable as it normally is. “I might drop.”
“I’ve got you.”
And he does. He catches me with ease and pauses for a few seconds before helping me put my feet on the cold, wet ground.
“It’s a little muddy.” Jase’s eyes look a little wilder with every flash of lightning. He’s soaking wet, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles, and I feel my anger fade. “What?”
You’re perfect, I want to say, but I shake it off.
He tilts his head to the side. “Really, what?”
“I—um, nothing.”
The light switch outside my kitchen door flips open, and Mama brings out an old bag of trash. We stay still, feeling every pulse as we try not to get caught. Mama doesn’t seem to notice, and she’s back inside quickly.
“So…” Jase extends his arm and spins me. “I have big plans for us tonight.”
“Cause the first plan turned out so well?”
“I’ve revised a bit.”
I plant my hand on my hip. “In the last couple of hours?”
“Mhmm.” He pulls me close as he moves us into a slow dance, and my anger dissolves like sugar in water. As much as I want to go inside, away from the rain, I don’t want to leave this either. I’ve always thought things like dancing in the August rain were tacky in the movies, but somehow, when I’m with him, nothing seems tacky. Everything feels right .
I rest my head on his chest, which is getting noticeably more muscular from playing football but is still soft enough for me to lean on.
I lose track of time dancing with him, my clothes sticking to my skin more and more by the minute, but when the rain lets up a bit, I pull away and wring out my hair. I sling it up into a bun at the top of my head. When I catch him staring at my lips, I tilt them into a smile.
“You’re beautiful, Kay.” He steps closer.
His magnetic field pulls me in, and I can’t help reaching for him. My arms wrap around his neck, and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist.
Jase backs up until he bumps into the old Magnolia behind him, holding us. “I love you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and rests his palm on my cheek.
“I love you, too,” I reply.
Jase moves his head down to mine and grabs my lips with his. The kiss starts sweet. Then, I can’t get enough. I move my hands to either side of his face and pull him closer; the kiss deepens. I moan and hear him curse under his breath when he pulls away for a brief second before kissing me again.
There’s a quick flash of light in front of me, causing my eyes to blink open.
“Police! Hands where I can see ‘em!” a deep voice bellows out of the woods. The light becomes steadier as it gets closer, and Jase puts me on the ground. We put our hands up in the air right as the officer approaches. Instead of arresting us, he laughs.
“Son of a—Jack.” Jase throws his arm right into Jack’s crotch.
Jack doubles over and exhales. “I really had you two going there for a minute.” He points back and forth between us.
Jase glares at his brother. “You know damn well Dad would beat the crap out of us if we were arrested.”
Jack chuckles. “Yeah, if you guys were dumb enough to start humping by a wet tree when there are two houses you could go into to be warm and have privacy, then it’d be your fault.”
Shifting my left hand to Jase’s mouth, I stick my right pointer finger at Jack. “Okay, first, we weren’t ‘humping.’” I raise my middle finger to join in and continue, “Second, please don’t ever say humping again.”
He snorts.
I flip him the bird.
Jack raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. All I’m saying is you guys should probably move inside before it’s more than me walking up on you.”
I roll my eyes and remove my hand from Jase’s mouth, but Jack has a point. I’d go to my grave before telling him that, though.
Jase shoves his hands into his jeans. “Do you want to come inside?”
I should head home before they notice I’m gone … but then the fighting starts inside. By the quick escalation, I can tell Dad’s in one of his moods. Mama’s gonna give him a run for his money before he ends up falling asleep, and he won’t remember it in the morning … but I will.
Jase gestures to my kitchen. “Are Nana and Pop home?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He tugs at my hand. “Come on.”
“Jade left a ton of clothes this semester. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind loaning you something dry,” Jack suggests.
“Thank you.” I follow the brothers inside.
I expect to see their parents in the living room when we walk in, but to my surprise, they’re not home. Jack runs upstairs. I twirl to inhale the scent of vanilla. It doesn’t matter if anything’s in the oven; the Cole household always smells like vanilla. Handmade artwork decorates the sky-blue walls—artwork their kids made growing up—the kind most parents hide after their kids get to high school. Hand turkeys and house sketches adorn the room, like they always do. I admire them like I always do. The space feels so … loving. I turn and smack Jase in the stomach.
“Ugh.” He doubles over when I connect.
“Excuse you—your parents aren’t even home, and we were outside in the rain?”
He shrugs. “Like you didn’t like it?”
The blush rises to my face.
He points at my cheeks. “See, I knew it.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure your parents are gonna love it when I leave a trail of water through the house.” I walk around the steps to the downstairs bedrooms, turning right to head into Jade’s room.
“How many times have you heard my mama say she’d rather the house be lived in than clean?”
I bite my lip. “At least a dozen … but I still don’t want your parents to come home to a mess.”
Jase catches me in a few quick strides and twirls me around, pinning me against the bedroom door. “I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about us .” His voice is low and slow.
I spin out of his grasp and step into Jade’s room. “I’m getting some dry clothes.”
His hand caresses the door. “Oh, Kay Dailey, you’re in trouble.”
After I find a button-down flannel shirt and pair of leggings to replace my wet clothes, I open the door to Jase leaning against the wall. “What was it you said about trouble?” I bat my eyelashes.
“You are trouble.” He swats my butt as I walk past.
“Now, now,” I tsk. “That’s not the way to get what you want.”
“I want you ,” he says.
“I want dinner,” I counter.
“Happy wife, happy life.” He says it so casually I almost miss it.
I pause on my way to the bright yellow kitchen, full of joy and sunshine—when there isn’t a storm outside, anyway. “Happy what?”
He shrugs. “Something my dad always says, ‘Happy wife, happy life.’ It means if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Wife. It’s intoxicating and leaves me breathless.
Jase opens the pantry and pulls out a box of pasta. He shakes it toward me like he didn’t just say the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. “How about mac and cheese?”
“Are those spirals?” I strain my neck to read the box.
“Nope. Shells.”
“Do you have spirals?”
“What, are you five?” He pulls out a pot and fills it with water.
I dance around the counter and sit on the tall stool at the kitchen bar, but his comment almost stops me in my tracks more than the wife comment. “Um, no. Spirals are the best.”
“Are you kidding?” He whips around, pot in hand. “Shells are the pasta for mac and cheese. The shape holds little pockets of cheese.”
“Shells are okay, but spirals are the best, hands down.”
“Okay, I take back ‘happy wife, happy life.’”
“No.” I put my hands on the counter in front of me. “You can’t take it back.”
“Oh yes, I can. Spirals over shells is a deal breaker.” He salts the water and reads the cooking time on the box of noodles. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you after all these years.”
I shrug. “It’s not new.”
“Yeah, but mac and cheese is your favorite. How did I not know you despise the perfect shell when it’s done nothing to you?”
“Okay, I never said I ‘despise’ shells. I think they’re fine . They’re just not better than spirals.”
“Uh huh, well, tonight dinner will be served with shells. You’re welcome.”
I roll my eyes. Hard. But when the mac is done, and we sit back on his familiar, comfy couch and take a bite, I stifle a moan. I shove another bite in my mouth before he notices. Maybe the shells weren’t bad after all.
“What do you think?” He reaches for the remote and loads Netflix.
“It’s … all right.” I hold my pride close. “What’re you putting on?”
Jase sighs and hands the remote over. “What do you want to watch, Kay?”
Smiling, I put on my favorite Nicholas Sparks adaptation, The Longest Ride , and lean into him, the bowl of mac in my lap. “Happy wife, happy life, right?”
He places a sweet kiss on the top of my head and holds me close with his left arm, reaching for his mac with his right. “Someday.”
While we watch one of my favorite movies, eating my favorite meal with my favorite guy, all I can think about is: Someday.