This Kind of Love

14. Then Eight Years Ago

Chapter 14

Then: Eight Years Ago

T he chimes ring out from the steeple, and the eggshell white church doors peel open at the end of service. Neighbors take turns stepping out of pews, talking to the pastor, and walking past the windows of stained glass. Mamas and daddies step foot into the spring air with children hand-in-hand.

Mama and I usually sneak out the backdoor and wait for the Coles to join us for our walk home together. Today is no exception.

Carrie Cole departs first and winks at Mama. “No questions today.”

Mama closes her eyes. “Thank you. It’s embarrassing enough Andy doesn’t come to Sunday service anymore, but to have to explain it …” She shakes her head.

Carrie puts her hand on top of Mama’s and squeezes.

Eric Cole strides onto the blacktop, grinning ear to ear. Jack and Jase are behind him, arguing about who gets their dad’s car today.

Carrie rolls her eyes. “Boys, can we not fight on church grounds? And what’s gotten into you?” she asks her husband, hand on her hip.

Eric chuckles and reaches for her hand, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “It’s a beautiful day, we had a great mass, and we’re healthy—it’s all I could ask for.”

She sighs. “You’re right.”

“I could always hear it more,” he teases.

She doesn’t argue, just raises her gaze to Mama in a way only another wife could understand. Men.

Jase bumps his hip into mine and interlaces our fingers on the walk home. “Hey.”’

“Hey.” I study him.

“What?”

My eyes narrow. “You’re up to something.”

Jase winks. “Maybe.”

Mama and Carrie laugh up ahead while Jack and his dad discuss who’s going to put new breaks on the family car.

I bump into him. “Well?”

He moves behind me and loops his arms around my chest. Lowering his voice down to a hushed tone, he says, “I don’t know, it seems like everyone would be a little distracted if you get my drift.” His lips lightly graze my neck and cause a shiver down my spine.

“I wanted to write today, but …” I spin around and almost lose my breath when I see the heat in his eyes—and it’s all for me.

“But what?” His brow arches.

A shiver runs down my spine, and it takes all my self-control not to jump into his arms right there.

“Are you kids coming?” Mama calls.

“Not yet ,” Jase mumbles, only loud enough for me to hear.

“Jason Cole!” I exclaim, but when everyone turns around to see what caused my outburst, Jase holds his arms up innocently. My cheeks burn. Guilty.

“All right, come on inside and wash up before lunch,” Carrie says to her kids.

Jase turns around and smiles, causing a blush to rise to my cheeks.

Nana opens our side kitchen door and whistles for help getting the food outside.

Jack hustles over and picks up the breakfast casserole and fruit. Pop follows him outside with a thermos of coffee and an armful of cups and creamers. Mama and Nana set the table, and Carrie brings out banana bread.

Minutes later, everyone but Dad sits, and our picnic is underway.

Laughter fills the air. Jase runs his hand up my leg as he leans forward and picks up his glass of tea with his other hand. His musky and sweet cologne fills my lungs. Biting down on my lip, I come-to, but when he squeezes my thigh, I almost scream.

“Want to get out of here?”

I push my chair back.

Jase stands. “Can Kay and I be excused? We should practice for our group presentation tomorrow.”

“What group pres—” Jack asks but stops when I shoot daggers in his direction. “Oh, right, the history thing you guys were talking about.”

“Yes!” Jase and I say in unison.

“Can you help us clean up first, Kate?” Mama’s voice drips in disappointment.

“I’ll help you, Mrs. Dailey,” Jack offers.

“Sure, thank you, Jack,” she replies, satisfied.

I mouth. “Thanks, Jacky.”

As Jase and I step foot in his house, his hands dive into my hair and he pulls me toward him.

“Jase, they could see—window. Upstairs,” I say incoherently.

Taking my hand, he leads me up the stairs, into his back bedroom, and shuts the door with his leg.

When his lips crash over mine, a moan escapes my lips.

He curses under his breath. Fuck.

Jase moves in closer, minimizing the space between us. He dips his head, and his lips are at my ear. He nips it slowly, methodically, and I melt as my head tilts back. Stifling another moan, I whisper a curse.

He chuckles.

I run my fingers down his back, scratching enough to make him squirm.

“ Fuck, Kay.”

I kiss the nape of his neck, the place that’s meant just for me. I know what to do with it.

He groans and pushes my hands up, over my head, taking control once again. Moving us toward the bed, he sits me down and takes off his shirt before joining me.

There’s a crash downstairs, and it jolts us apart. When everything quiets, Jase reaches for me again.

“Your mama could be downstairs,” I object.

“Yeah …” His voice is deeper than it was moments before. “She’ll probably do the dishes and watch something on HGTV.”

“Your dad and Jack?”

“Will be working on the car … and we can be quiet, can’t we?” His eyes dip to my chest, and my heart skips a beat.

“I mean, I can, but I don’t think you can be,” I tease and flip the lock on his bedroom door.

His mouth drops. “Me?”

“You.” I double down.

“We’ll see about that.”

Turns out, we were both right. His Mama did watch HGTV— loudly —and neither of us was able to be quiet. Thank God for Property Brothers .

Lying naked in bed, snuggling Jase, I feel myself fading off to dreamland, but I can’t let go completely. “I have to get home soon.”

“You are home.” Jase hangs on tight.

The pang in my heart grows stronger than I think is possible. I kiss his chest and snuggle into him.

“I love you.” He pets my hair, and I close my eyes, savoring every second.

“I love you , Jason Cole.”

“Goodnight, Kay.”

“Good—It’s still morning.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

I yawn. “I’ll see you in dreamland.”

And I do. In dreamland, all I see is him.

It feels like hours pass before I blink my eyes open and find Jase sitting at his wooden desk only wearing a pair of basketball shorts, sketching.

“Oh hey, Sleepyhead.”

“Hey.” I pull the covers up to my shoulders. “What’re you working on over there?”

He flips it face down onto his desk. “Nothing.”

I scootch out of bed and pull his sheet along to wrap around me. “Oh, nothing, huh?”

“Nope, nothing to see here.”

I reach for his sketchbook, but Jase puts his hand over mine, stopping me.

My eyes narrow. “What is this secret you’re keeping?”

He sighs. “It’s not a secret. It’s a surprise. You won’t leave it, will you?”

“Not a chance.” My hand calls it over.

Jase pats his lap for me to sit, and I do. He turns the pad, and I stare, mouth falling open.

“You drew this?”

“I am trying for art school, you know?” His voice cracks.

“No, no, Jase, I know you can draw. I meant you drew this for us?”

He bows his head.

I study the 3D house in front of me. It has big, open French doors and a prominent view of the sunset. The open-concept first floor has wide windows in the living room and kitchen, with beautifully shaded cabinets atop a detailed marble countertop. There’s a kitchen bar off to the side, with two stools and a dog bowl right next to them.

“Jase, this is …”

He gulps. “You hate it.”

I turn toward him, putting the picture in my lap. I place a hand on either side of his face. “I love it.” I place a kiss on his forehead. “What does the upstairs look like?”

He turns the page and gently moves his fingers around, almost bringing the house to life. “The main bedroom is here, big enough for four to five dogs and space for the en suite bathroom.”

“Four to five dogs, huh? You slipped that in casually.”

“Oh yeah, I figured at least four, but six could be a lot. We’ll have to draw the line somewhere.” I chuckle, and he keeps going. “Kids’ rooms here and here.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Kids?”

He looks at me pointedly. “Can you let me finish?”

I wave him on.

“Guest room there, creative room down the hall—half art studio, half writing cave.”

I lift his chin and stare into his blue-green eyes, mist coming out of my own. “It’s perfect.”

There’s a tap on the door, followed by a loud bellow. “Yoo, bro, how’s your history project coming?”

“ Shit.” I climb off Jase and reach for my shorts and T-shirt by his nightstand.

“Yeah, one sec,” Jase replies.

I toss him his shirt, which he throws over his head with ease before smoothing out his shortcut and opening the door a crack to peek an eye out. “What?”

“Mama is looking for you, and you’re welcome for saving your asses,” Jack argues.

“Whatever.” Jase closes the door. He hustles around his room, making sure it’s normal messy and not we-had-sex-under-our-parents’-noses messy, all the same.

“I should go ...” I straighten to kiss his lips. “But I don’t want to leave.”

Jase reaches for my hand. “Stay.”

I bow my head. “It’ll be worse if I don’t go home.”

He shifts my chin up for his pleading eyes to look into mine. “I know, but the time we spend apart now is a drop in the bucket compared to our next chapter.”

Closing my eyes, I breathe him in, slow and deep enough to get me through the next few hours. “I hate goodbyes.”

“Our spot tonight?”

“Our spot tonight.”

Carrie knocks on the bedroom door and twists the knob open. “Kate, are you staying for dinner?”

“Thank you, but I should head home.”

She smiles and pulls me in for a hug goodbye, and I wish I could take her kindness with me to save me from the storm surely happening next door.

It doesn’t work. The dark cloud is everywhere.

Mama’s putting a casserole in the oven, and Dad’s already on his big plans of screaming at her for who knows what.

I pop in my earbuds and turn Taylor on high, trying to block out the noise. Nana’s reading in the living room, trying to block out the screams.

Pop’s touching Dad on the shoulder and whispering, trying to get him to calm down, but he either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care because he keeps ranting.

I thought after Nana and Pop moved in, it would calm down, and some days, it seems like it has, but on Sundays, when the bar closes early, he comes home and lets it out on Mama. I wish she would get up and leave, to learn her worth, and that she doesn’t need him or this. Some days, I tell her. She never answers me, but she does pull me in close for a hug and holds on for dear life.

I look over again, and this time Pop’s helping Dad sit down, which seems to lower his voice a bit.

Mama exhales as she sets the timer for dinner.

Removing my left earbud, I hear her humming, and I know music is how she’s surviving this moment. Me too, Mama. Me too.

“Go on.” Nana waves toward the stairs. “You better get in the shower before he escalates again.”

I slip up the stairs, taking the quickest shower of my life. I’m nearly dressed before Mama knocks on my door and enters without waiting for an answer.

“Hey.” She takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey ...” I pick up a pair of boots from my closet.

“Can we talk for a second?” Mama asks, then adds, “About earlier.”

“Sure.” I join her on the bed.

“I, uh, know you don’t have a history report due tomorrow.” She looks down at her hands.

I look away. This is as awkward for her as it is for me.

“Mama, I—”

“No,” she interrupts. “I know why you go to the Coles.” Mama’s breath catches in her throat, and I turn to see her eyes blinking back tears. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry you don’t feel safe here.”

I want to disagree with her, but she’s right. Even though it’s not why I went today, it’s why I didn’t want to come home. I don’t feel safe here. This house, this room, feels more like a prison than a home.

Mama sniffles.

I put my hand on hers. I’m sorry, too.

“I want you to feel safe, sweetie.”

I want that, too, but more than that, I want Mama to be free. Dad hasn’t hit her. He wouldn’t because then he’d have to admit he’s an abuser, and he thinks he’s above all of it—like an abuser can only be someone who hits someone else. He refuses to acknowledge verbal, mental, and emotional abuse is abuse. The anger boils inside of me, and I can’t help lashing out at Mama for helping prolong the pain.

“Why haven’t you left him? Why don’t you leave? Why don’t we leave?”

“Your daddy’s a good man, Kate.”

I recoil as if her words physically burn through my skin. “That’s something a victim would say.”

This time, there’s no holding back Mama’s tears. “He’s a good man with a drinking problem. He needs me. He needs us to get help getting sober, getting better.”

“How would you know your leaving wouldn’t be the push he needs?” I fire back.

She sighs through the tears. “I just know, okay? I’m going to help him get through this, like …” She shakes her head. “You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“What were you gonna say, Mama?”

“Nothing. I didn’t come up here to fight with you. I want you to know I’m sorry, and I love you.”

If you loved me, you would leave. I don’t say it out loud this time, but from the way she squeezes her eyes shut, I know she hears it, anyway.

When she exits, I can’t stop my jaw from tightening and fists from clenching. Why didn’t I say something sooner? Maybe if I had said something more direct years ago, she would’ve left by now. Maybe not. I can’t wait until something worse happens.

Tossing on my shoes, I throw my hair into a long ponytail and pull up the notes app on my phone. I scribble a quick list, letting my words come out as fragmented thoughts. I hear a familiar clink as I finish writing it out.

Plucking open my window, I lob my legs out and almost miss my footing.

“Woah, what’s gotten into you?” Jase asks as I pull him from his spot by the Magnolia tree and move into the woods behind our houses.

“Don’t ask.” I brush him off.

“Kay, seriously, what’s going on?”

I continue to drag him along behind me. “Want to run? I want to run.”

“Kay.” He yanks his arm back and dead stops in between a couple of trees that must have had their branches snapped during last night’s storm.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I outstretch my arms.

“Do what?” He raises his eyebrows.

“This. Sloane. My parents. It’s too much.” My voice is squeaky and higher than I intend it to be. Feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, I collapse onto the ground, still wet and muddy from the storm. “Ugh.” I rest my head in my hands.

Jase walks over and sits down on the mud right beside me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I look up, and my blue gaze locks with his bright green one. I do want to talk about it because he’s the one person in the world who could understand. He’s been here through all of it.

“I—sometimes it’s too much. Dad’s bad days are outnumbering the good ones. Mama puts up with it. Nana and Pop try to intervene, but it only stalls him—it doesn’t stop him.”

Jase nods, listening.

“Last night was scary, and I couldn’t take what he was doing and Mama not saying anything. She raised me to be strong, and yet when it comes to him, she doesn’t leave. I don’t get it. This afternoon, she apologized for me not feeling safe, but even knowing all of it, she couldn’t entertain the thought, not even for me.”

I sniffle through the brain dump, and Jase lets me ramble, his hand holding mine, giving me the strength to let it out.

“She says it’s his addiction, and I think it is, but do you know when he started drinking like this? Why he started drinking like this?”

Jase shakes his head.

“When I was born.” My gaze drops to a shadow on my boot. I mentally trace the mud on the side of it as I vent. “Which is great to know, by the way. Highly recommend telling your teenage daughter her very existence caused you to go into a tailspin with fucking cheap ass beer. It’s trash. This whole thing is trash.”

Jase places a kiss on the top of my head.

I wipe my eyes with my shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry. I ...”

“Hey,” he whispers. “Come here..” Jase places a finger under my chin and lifts it up. He adjusts his position to put a leg on either side of me and pulls me back into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, right under my chest. “You have nothing to apologize for. Okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to keep talking?”

“Not about them.” I shift my head from side to side, stretching out my neck.

He starts massaging my shoulders to help me relax. “Okay. You said you have a plan. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yes, but … promise to hear me out.” I extend my pinkie.

Jase loops his with mine. “Promise.”

I open the notes app and clear my throat. “I want to move to New York.”

Jase shifts his legs. “You want to what?”

“You promised to hear me out.” I look over my shoulder at him, moving my own legs in closer, pushing my knees up with my feet pushing firmly into the wet ground.

“All right. What else is a part of this plan?”

I shrug. “I haven’t thought it all through yet, but I know I can’t be here much longer. New York has all these amazing opportunities for colleges and writing, it’s the art capital of the world, and there’s a lot of great running trails from what I’ve seen, and I … could see us starting this great life there.”

“Us?” Jase stirs.

“Yes, us.” I rest my arms on his.

He shakes his head. “I, um, I don’t know what I’d even do in New York City.”

“Art.”

He blinks at me. “You say it like it’s easy. Moving states away without any money or a support system, to try and make it in two creative fields … Kay, I …”

I interject before he can fully turn me down. “Listen, I know it would be a shock, but you know I can’t be here. I also don’t want to be anywhere without you. It doesn’t have to be New York. It could be somewhere else. We could do some thing else. Whatever you want, as long as it’s you and me.”

He’s quiet for a long while, and I study him. Please say something.

“Oh, what the hell. Okay.”

“Okay?” I sit up. “Really? Do you want to think about it?”

“I want to be with you. I want you to be happy, and if New York is going to make you happy, then I want to go, too.”

“Ooohh!” I squeal and give him a fierce kiss on the lips. “I can’t wait. It’s going to be amazing. You can do anything in New York.”

“We can do anything in New York. I can do anything with you.” He smiles.

I grin back and place my hands on either side of his face. “Are we really doing this?”

“We’re really doing this.” He opens his arms, and I climb right back in.

Sitting there in his arms, I feel the lightest I’ve felt in months.

We’re getting out.

Together.