16. Then Seven Years Ago
Chapter 16
Then: Seven Years Ago
O ne step in front of the other, I take off into a slow sprint in the middle of the storm to get away from everything at home. I travel as far as my feet will take me: past Sloane High, through Rose’s park, past the coffee shop, and all the way down Main Street. I run until my legs cramp.
I find myself in front of Jase’s window. Picking up a small rock, I toss it up—horribly—and it hits the siding between Jase and Jack’s rooms. I take another small pebble and try again, but this one hits the kitchen window. I duck behind the Magnolia tree.
Eric opens the kitchen door. “Come on in, Kate. The door’s probably easier than the window with all this rain.”
“Yes, sir.” I shuffle over.
He takes one look at me soaking wet, and a smile forms on his face. “You look like you ran into the storm.”
I don’t deny it.
“Well, come on in.” He calls Jase downstairs and tells him to bring a towel.
Jase appears, and everything else fades away. “Kay, is everything okay?”
I shake my head, and he comes over, wraps the towel around me, and pulls me in close.
“You’re going to get wet,” I tell him.
He pulls me impossibly tighter into his grasp. “I don’t care.”
I lose track of how long we stay like this, but it feels like forever. I wish it was forever.
A bolt of lightning flashes outside, and we jump apart.
Eric peaks out the kitchen window and winces. “It looks like it’s getting bad out there. Why don’t you kids go get warm?”
Jase puts his hand in mine and leads me to the sofa.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to get the couch soaked.”
Jase rolls his eyes. “My parents don’t care.”
Putting my hand on my hip, I tilt my drenched head toward my oblivious boyfriend.
“Kay, relax, we’re not at your house. My mama would rather have you get the seat a little wet than have my football pads stink up the room. Trust me.”
I close one eye. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” He pulls me onto the sofa.
“Hey, Kate. Are you hungry?” Eric calls from the kitchen.
“No, thank you. Do you need anything? I can help with dinner.”
He shakes his head from the kitchen. “Nah, this is my happy place. I’ve got it.”
Jase puts his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to be on edge, not here.”
“I know.” I brush my anxiety off a bit. “I can’t help it.”
He pulls me in to lean up against him. “What happened?”
I sniffle. “My dad found it.”
“Your notebook?”
“Mhm.”
“The one with—”
I shiver. “He found all the poems and songs about his drinking and … everything.”
Jase rests his hand on mine. “What can I do?”
“Distract me, please.”
Jase turns the remote on and flips through Netflix until he finds Friends , but I can’t help glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see my dad behind me.
“It’s okay.” He pets my hair. “It’s just us. You’re safe.”
I feel myself fading and give in to the deep pull of sleep in the place where I’m most comfortable in the world: Jase’s arms.
He places a light kiss on the top of my head and lays down, continuing to hold me. “Goodnight, Kay.”
“Goodnight, Jase,” I mumble as I fade in and out of consciousness.
“I love you.”
“Love you.”
“Sweet dreams, angel.”
His voice is the last thing I hear as I drift off to dreamland. I know he’ll keep me safe in real life and in my dreams—which sometimes is the most dangerous place of all.
It’s 4:02 p.m. when I clock out at Fran and Friends, toss my tips into the tiny pocket of my yoga pants, and throw my apron over my shoulder, “Bye, everyone. See y’all tomorrow.”
Swinging open the creaky door to Jase’s pickup truck he refuses to give a human name to, I hop into the passenger seat.
He leans in and gives me a kiss hello. “How was your shift?”
I collapse into the seat. “Exhausting. Breakfast was easy, but the church crowd was a lot today.”
Jase grumbles. Just because Sundays are his day off doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how the diner can get when it gets hectic. “I’m glad I get to cook and not deal with actual people.”
“You get to deal with me.” I rest my head on my hand and blink.
“Aren’t I lucky?” he jokes.
“Very.” I tap his wrist.
He shifts the truck into gear. “You didn’t text me when you got in last night. How were things at home? Did your dad calm down?”
I shudder. “No. I thought he would have fallen asleep early, but he stayed in the living room with all the lights off and scared the shit out of me when I walked inside. He tore all these pages out of the notebook, balled them up, and threw them at me one at a time until he ran out of ammo. And then, he picked up a bottle of whiskey. If Pop hadn’t come down at that exact moment, I don’t know what would have happened. Pop intervened so I could get upstairs—and then, out of nowhere, my dad was snoring.”
Jase shifts his left hand on the wheel and places his other hand in mine. “How was this morning?”
I face his profile. “Like nothing ever happened.”
He sighs. “I fucking hate that.”
Smacking my lips, I focus on the clouds slowly shifting in the rearview. “It makes me feel like I imagined it, but I know I didn’t. He just hates me so much.”
“Kay …”
Wiping my eyes, I change the subject. “Anyway, I think we’re doing well toward the New York fund.” I dig into my work apron and grab a large wad of cash.
“Holy shit.” His mouth falls open. “Maybe the church crowd is worth it.”
“Yeah. A few more shifts like this, and we’ll be able to rent a cardboard box in the city for a month or two.”
“There’s the positivity I love.”
I lean back into the seat, slide my non-slip shoes off, and stick my feet on the dashboard. Jase rolls the windows down and turns the dial up as Taylor Swift comes on the radio with “Our Song.”
I sing along with the radio while Jase pats the steering wheel in tune. When the song changes, he puts his right hand on the clutch and waves his fingers to me. Maybe I’m the lucky one.
“What’s on your mind?” He turns the wheel.
“I’m grateful for you and excited to start our new life together. It’s close.”
“It is.” He squeezes my hand.
Close, but it feels like forever when Dad’s drinking seems to be getting worse, and he’s picking fights with Mama more often than not.
Jase pulls into an abandoned lot and turns the car off.
I shift around, noticing the No Trespassing signs, but he waves them off and tells me not to worry. “What’s the first thing you want to do when we get to New York?” He wiggles his eyebrows, trying to distract me from where he knows my thoughts are heading.
“I think get a big ol’ slice of pizza.”
“Like Joe’s Pizza?”
“From what I’ve seen they’re well done and cheesy enough it almost comes off in one bite.”
“Like Joe’s Pizza,” he repeats and rubs his belly. “I could go for a slice of Joe’s.”
I laugh. “Later.”
“Don’t you think planning would be easier with some food?”
I roll my eyes. “Some of us ate lunch.”
“Some of us waited for our sweet girlfriends. Maybe we could …” his voice trails off, and he pulls me down in the seat with him, letting a cop car drive by, hopefully missing us.
“I thought you said this wasn’t trespassing?” I shift up in the seat to cock my head toward the back window.
“It’s not … exactly.”
I swerve toward him. “What do you mean not exactly?”
Jase shrugs. “Technically, we own the property; we just haven’t done all the paperwork yet.”
“Uh huh.” I drum my fingers on the dash. “Who’s we? ”
He runs his fingers through his hair and looks out the window one more time before opening the driver’s side door and stepping out.
“That’s not an answer, Jason Cole.”
Moving around the car, he opens the passenger side door for me. “It’s my grandparents’ property. It was willed to my parents—they haven’t finished everything to make it official , but it’s as good as done.”
I take his outstretched hand and step out cautiously. “An abandoned lot?”
“Well, no,” Jase answers. He moves to the cab of the truck, pulling out a backpack. “Come on.”
“Jase, what if the cop comes back?” I keep my eye on the roadway.
“Let them. The house is in the Cole name.”
“House?” I echo, walking after him.
“Should be right up here somewhere.” He leads us past the lot into a wooded area and up a small rocky path.
“Somewhere? Haven’t you been here before?” I glance up at him as he studies the sun compared to the trees ahead of us.
“Sure … but not in fifteen years.”
My hands fall to my sides. “You have no idea where we’re going?”
“Oh hush, I have a plan. It’s just not always as detailed as yours always are.” Connecting his hand to his forehead, Jase squints up ahead. “Ah, there it is!”
I strain to see it, but all I can see is more woods.
Following Jase further up the trail, the house starts to come more into focus. For an abandoned building, it looks like it held up well enough from the outside anyway. It appears to be of gray stone, the colors tarnished to a dirty brown. The wooden porch has several holes from wear and tear and perhaps a woodland creature or two.
“I know it doesn’t look like it, but this used to be something. From what my dad tells me, my granddad spent the better part of a year dressing this place up for my mom-mom to enjoy it. For her to have a beautiful place to relax, he put in this big wraparound porch with wood he chopped out back. If we go out back, there should be a decent view.”
I put my hand in his, and he leads me around the house. Sure enough, the view’s there. In between two Magnolias whose branches connect as if they are forming a big, wooden heart, I could see the Tennessee mountains and the most beautiful sunset. We get a lot of nice sunsets in Sloane, but the oranges and pinks hit differently up here—varying shades of sunshine and cotton candy, with a slight stripe of robin’s egg blue cutting through the center. I would have missed the detail if we were at ground level.
“What do you think?”
“Wow.” My breath catches. “This is … I can see why your mom-mom liked it.”
“Right? I know you want to move to New York, and if it’s what you want, it’s what we’ll do … but if it’s peace, quiet, and security you’re looking for, I can give you that here . ”
Here? He wants to stay in Sloane?
My heart drops, and I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump already forming in my throat. “I—Jase, I, uh, don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Sit here with me and take in this view, okay?”
I blink away a tear. It is beautiful, and he brought me here to show me a safe place where we could be together, but to stay here forever …
I shake away the thought. Can’t happen, won’t happen. If I stay, I’ll never be free … but if I go, will I lose him forever? My lips quiver right as a small twinkle catches my eye. Between two tree, I see them and smile. “Hey, Jase, look!”
He turns his head from side to side but doesn’t see anything. I put my hands on either side of his head and guide him in the right direction. “Right … there. ”
“Fireflies,” he whispers.
“Tons of ‘em. Catch and release?”
He takes off. “Race you!”
“They’re so close it’s not much of a race.” I advance a few feet to join him.
We catch fireflies in our hands and set them free. We let our laughter fill the dusk until the sound of cicadas takes over. I’m so lost in the comforting sounds of our small town that I don’t see Jase get up.
“Kay, come on, over here!”
Standing, I brush little pieces of grass off me and walk toward Jase’s voice. “What’s going on?” As I approach the porch, a broken window catches my gaze. “Oh no … did you do that?”
He shakes his head and lifts a key between his thumb and pointer finger. “Nope, that’s old. We’re getting in the house the old-fashioned way.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”
“Yes, I’m telling you, we own the house … and I have a key.” He swings the door open and tries flipping the switch, but the lights don’t come on. “Guess we’ll need to update a few things.”
Leaves crunch behind me, and when I turn around, a flashlight meets my eyes.
I see a badge before I recognize what’s happening.
“Evening, kids,” the officer says. “You are trespassing on private property, and I’m going to have to escort you out.”
I freeze in place and don’t blink for some time while I think of what to say.
Jase holds up his hands, key well within view. “Hi, sir. I can understand how this looks, but this is my grandparents’ property.”
“This house has been abandoned for a long time,” the officer replies.
I gulp.
The officer continues, “But the break in the window is new.”
Panicking, I try to find the words, any words to explain we didn’t break in, but all that comes out is, “I … we didn’t …”
Jase kicks his heel but keeps his hands up and eyes glued on the officer’s.
“Jase … tell him.”
He stays silent.
The deputy waves in backup from behind him. “Breaking and entering is a crime, kids. We’re going to have to take you to the station.”
Jase’s eyes go wild at the other officers approaching him in the dark. Despite the fear on his face, his voice remains calm, steady. “This is my house.”
The officer taps his foot. “I assume you have proper paperwork for that?”
Jase shakes his head.
The officer clicks his tongue. “Alrighty then, time to go.”
I interrupt, “But…”
He twists, anger radiating off him, even in the dark. “Am I talking to you?”
“No, but ...”
“Kate …” Jase warns.
“You’re not letting him explain.”
The officer gets right up in my face, close enough that I can smell the sweat pooling on his brow. Even after the sun went down, it’s still a hot, August night. “That’s enough, missy.”
I scoff, and a backup deputy yanks my arms behind my back as they shove me to the ground. I call out in pain as the cold metal cuffs are thrown on my wrists quicker than I know how to react. I scream again, but they push me back down into the grass.
“Let her go,” Jase begs. “This was all me. Punish me. Let her go, please.”
The lead officer puts his left hand on his hip, shining the flashlight brighter in Jase’s face with his right. “Or what?”
“Nothing, I—it was all me.”
“Let’s go,” the sergeant says and manhandles Jase in order to throw a pair of cuffs on him too.
“Wait, are you not going to let her go?” Jase cries.
“You both trespassed and broke the law.”
They lead us down the path, out of the woods, and past Jase’s car. Our Miranda rights are read on the way down, but I block out everything beyond you have the right to remain silent.
I squeeze my eyes shut. If I thought Dad was mad before, he’s going to go off when he finds out about the arrest.
Jase lowers his voice, “I’m sorry, Kay.” But it wasn’t his mouth that got us into the back of a police car months before graduation.
“Me too,” I mumble.
We ride to the station in silence. The trip feels endless, but still, not enough time to think about how I’m going to be able to hide this from Dad in a place like Sloane.
“I have a plan,” Jase mutters. “Trust me.”
An hour later, Eric and Pop show up to break us out of our holding cells. Disappointment is plastered on their grim, sunken faces, but here they are: the two most important men in our lives helping us out of our lowest low.
Pop clears his throat as we walk to his truck. “I won’t tell your parents, but you’re grounded. Indefinitely.”
“Yes, sir.” I hop into the truck and look back at Jase.
Eric isn’t the yelling type, but he doesn’t have to be to tell Jase what a mistake this afternoon was. He’s getting a similar punishment: work, school, home, that’s it. Home isn’t my house—it’s his. Jase’s head is hung low, and he’s apologizing profusely.
His sad eyes meet mine, and I feel my heart breaking, the weight of our mistake pulling us down.
I’m sorry doesn’t feel good enough or strong enough, but I mouth it anyway.
He nods, and I know we’ll get through this together—and—apart.