22. Now
Chapter 22
Now
C link. Pulling back the covers, I hop out of bed and open the window. Jase is at the base of the Magnolia tree in black joggers and a baseball tee, red roses in tow.
“Hi.” He finger waves.
My palms get sweaty. “Hey there.”
“Want to join me for a run?”
The wind blows a gentle breeze, and I take in the sweetness of his cologne. “I’d love to. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I take the steps two at a time, feeling like a kid heading to a carnival. Opening the front screen, I smile at the boy next door, all grown up.
He bites his lip. “I wasn’t sure how you feel about roses, but it’s time I up my flower game.”
I inhale deeply, getting a whiff of fresh baby’s breath in each nostril. “Well, I’m partial to dandelions, but these are beautiful. Thank you. I’ll put them in some water.”
Hyla runs down the stairs, nearly running him over.
“Hey, girl. I’ve missed you, too. Is anyone else home?”
“Just us. Amy has one more interview, and everyone else is at the hospital.”
“How’s he doing? Any word?”
We step into the kitchen, and I shake my head. “Not really. They’re capping visitors to limit stress.”
“How ironic; they want to limit stress for a man whose excessive drinking and behavior has stressed everyone around him for years.”
“Right?” A smile spreads across my face. He gets it. He’s always gotten it. Jase puts Hyla’s leash on, does all of one jumping jack, and shouts, “Race ya!” as he starts running.
“You don’t believe in stretching?!” I yell.
“Never did. The best stretch is the run itself.” He runs backward and faces me.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the exact opposite of what any doctor would say.”
“Good thing I’m not a doctor.” He’s halfway down the street.
I do a few quick stretches, then take off after him and pass him.
“Oh, it’s gonna be like that then? It’s the perfect fall day. I thought we could go for a nice jog, keeping pace.” Jase calls after me.
“Oh no, this is a full-on sprint now. We’ll see how well a ‘no stretching policy’ does for you when you get a Charley horse.”
“Come on, that’s kind of mean,” Jase replies.
I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re the one who wanted to run.”
“Yeah, because I thought it would be fun. You know, now that I think about it, there are other fun things we could have done …” His suggestive tone trails off when I look at him, but his gaze studies mine, looking for an opening.
I cross my arms.
“I’m kidding. We’re taking this slow.” He adjusts his hold on Hyla’s leash as we move further down Main Street.
“Yes. Taking it slow.” I shift my gaze down briefly. “I’ve been thinking ...”
“Oh no,” he jokes.
“I owe you an apology.”
His eyebrow arches.
“I was a total asshole to you.”
“What?”
“You know … then. For six years, I’ve held onto things being your fault because it’s easier than admitting the truth.” I stand still. “I’m as much at fault for everything that went down. I pushed you and ran away. Instead of being here for you, giving you space, and trying to make it work, I doubted you. I left when you needed me.”
He paces over to me. “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave an abusive situation.”
When I avoid his gaze, he places his fingers under my chin and lifts it. We look into each other’s eyes.
“I don’t blame you. You needed to go, and I needed to stay. It never changed my feelings for you, not ever.”
“It’s just … knowing now what I wish I knew then …”
“Kay, everyone makes mistakes. The only one judging us for them is Hyla.”
I look down, and sure enough, there’s Hyla, head tilted, waiting for us to get a move on. I roll my eyes and then see something shift across the street in front of the high school. It’s almost stuck. “Wait, what is that?”
Jase cocks his head. “I don’t know, a cat?”
“It doesn’t look like a cat. Come on.” We head over closer, but when I realize what it is, Hyla and I pull off to the side of the road.
“Where are you going?”
I point. “It’s a turtle.”
“Okay …”
“Can you go help it get across the road?”
He glances from me to the turtle and back again. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“Well, if it’s a snapping turtle, it could hurt me.” This normally confident and suave man almost sounds … scared? Of a turtle.
“Jase, it could be run over. Can you please help it?”
“Why can’t you help it?” he counters.
Yep, he’s scared of the turtle.
I look down at Hyla, who is blissfully unaware of the animal hanging out in the street. “Because I’m trying not to let a certain pup know there’s a little creature for her to scare the life out of. “
“Kay Dailey, you have got to stop getting me in hairy situations.”
“You’d be our hero. Forever and ever for saving the poor little turtle. Besides, you’ve gotten me into plenty of trouble yourself.”
He sighs. “You better make this worth my while.”
“Oh yes, when we get where we’re going, I’ll make sure you’re compensated.” I wink, and he puts his hand on his chest.
Hyla seems to have caught on, and she starts to whine. “Oh, sweetie, he’ll be right back. He’s off to be our hero and save a poor little turtle.”
“I’ll be back, Hys!” Jase shouts from across the street. “I have to help an animal, even though it could take my arm off.”
Hyla wags her tail, acknowledging Jase, and sits with a huge grin on her face.
The turtle whips his head back, and Jase jumps a foot off the ground.
I roll my eyes. “Alright, fine. I’ll get it. You stay here with the pup.”
He pounces at the chance to take the leash. “Your turn, Dr. Doolittle.”
Picking up a large stick, I tiptoe toward the turtle as he snaps his head again.
“Not as easy as you thought, huh?” Jase scoffs.
I inch the stick closer, and it grabs on. I dash across the street, place the stick and turtle in the field, and back away. “Easy peasy, and we’re back on track.” I dart down the road.
“Hey!” Jase calls after me. “Play fair.”
I laugh and pick up the speed. “Come on, slowpoke.”
“Slowpoke?” Jase points his finger to his chest. “Really? Oh, Dailey, you are in for it.”
As Jase chases after me, Hyla by his side, I feel the butterflies I caught all those years ago anytime I was anywhere near Jase. My heart is the fullest it’s been in years.
We jog for miles through town a couple of times, then a few laps on the field at the high school, spending hours together. It’s like I’ve finally come home.
The clouds cover up the sun, and Jase grabs my hand.
“Where are we going?”
Jase plugs his nose and pokes my shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve smelled us lately, but I, for one, could use a shower.”
I bring my shirt up to my nose and sniff. Jerking away from my tee, I gulp. “You’re right. Where is this shower you speak of?”
“I, uh, was thinking my place?” He shoves his hands into his short pockets.
I blink seductively. “Your place, you say? I thought you’d never ask.” I pretend to faint, but Jase doesn’t look amused.
He picks up Hyla’s leash from the grass where we let it fall. She stands at attention, ready to follow her new best friend anywhere. “What do you say, girl? Will you go back to my place without mocking me?”
Hyla wags her tail. Oh, yes.
Jase gives me a knowing look.
I start walking off the field. “It’s not you, I’ll have you know. She’s embarrassingly easy to please. I’ve seen her try to run across traffic for peanut butter ...”
“Tell yourself whatever you need to, Kay.” He pauses long enough to scratch behind my girl’s ears. “But lucky for Hyla, my peanut butter is always well-stocked.”
We’re at Jase’s house before I know it, and sure enough, his peanut butter options are plentiful—both Skippy and Jif, with crunchy and smooth of each. Jase is scooping a spoonful of Skippy’s smooth into a recycled takeout food container, and Hyla’s tail is going crazy. She’s practically drooling. Get it together, girl. It’s just peanut butter.
“Why do you have all this peanut butter?” I take in his kitchen with a marble breakfast bar and countertops, stainless steel stove and fridge, new tile backsplash to match the tile floors, recessed lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall leading out to the wrap-around deck which would overlook the sunset.
“You never know who’s going to come by,” he answers whimsically, like having four different choices of peanut butter is normal in any pantry.
“What do you use it for?” I counter, not letting it go.
He blushes. “I’m trying to make a peanut butter milk stout.”
My eyes light up.
“Unfortunately, I can’t quite nail the recipe.”
“Well, if you ever need a taste tester …”
Jase chuckles. “Duly noted. Alright, upstairs. Shower’s straight ahead. Take any towel out of the closet and use whatever soaps and shampoos you find up there.” He places a hand on each of my shoulders and turns me toward the steps.
I linger on the stairs, thinking about what the last few years must have been like for him, here, without me, but when Hyla barks and sells out my location, I bolt up the soft, carpeted stairs, two at a time.
“Find everything okay?” Jase shouts up.
I jump. Not yet. “Yup!” I call back and find my way to a hall closet outside the bathroom. I wince and open the door. “Ah, towels.” I pull one up to my nose. It smells ever so faintly like flowers and Jase. I hold it close for a minute and hang it over the door since there isn’t a towel rack in the bathroom. I step in, turn the tap on, and let the scorching hot water pour down my head, through my hair, onto my shoulders, and continue down my bare back.
It’s cleansing—letting the water run its way down. For a few short minutes, I don’t have to worry about what’s happening at the hospital or what’s happening with Jase. I don’t have to think about New York or what I’m missing at work. I don’t have to know what life will look like when this is all over. I don’t have to make decisions that will impact the rest of my life, not right now, anyway. All I have to do is massage shampoo through my hair and rinse it back out. Then, I’ll worry about the conditioner and body wash, but one step at a time. I breathe in and out while shampooing, taking note of my breath, and feeling my shoulders relax. I’ve got this.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the shower to dry off and realize I don’t have anything clean to wear. After a few minutes of snooping, I discover an old long-sleeve flannel shirt in Jase’s closet, the same one I thought was fun to try on a time or two before he got new clothes and before I outgrew the idea of wearing his shirt with nothing underneath it. I would think better of it now, but all I have are my sweaty running clothes.
I slip his flannel over my head and let my shoulder-length wet hair dry as-is. Tiptoeing down the stairs, dirty clothes in hand, I hear Jase singing along to a song his Echo is playing. He stirs the pot on the stove.
“Wow, something smells good.” I step foot onto the tile floor. I peek in the oven to see what he’s cooking, and my eyes light up. “Are you making mac and cheese?”
Jase keeps jamming along, then tosses the noodles into the pot when it boils.
“With spirals? But I thought shells were ‘the best.’”
“They are!” Jase glances over his shoulder. “… but it’s your favorite meal. I might as well make it how you like it.”
“It never mattered before.” I cross my arms under my chest.
Jase stirs the mac. “Back then, I was a stupid teenage boy who didn’t realize I should bend a little to get what I want.”
“What is it you want?” I let my voice drop on the last word, huskier than I’ve let it be in some time.
His head tilts subtly enough that I can tell it got him. Turning slowly, he starts to speak, but when he sees me standing in the middle of the kitchen with his shirt hitting mid-thigh, his mouth drops.
“What were you saying?”
Jase’s eyes scan me slowly. “I … uh …”
I walk past him to the stove and flip the burner off. “You were about to tell me why you were making spirals.”
I expect him to stall or string words together or something , but what I don’t expect is his direct, sultry response. “You. I want you, Kay.”
The way he draws out my name with his accent, full of want, makes me bolder than I’ve been in years, the kind of bold I only am when I’m around him. “So, what are you waiting for?”
He’s in my arms, and I’m in his, and in the kitchen I’ve always dreamed we’d dance in one day, he shows me what I’ve been missing all these years.
It’s better than I remember. He’s better than I remember. My heart beats as the last piece of the wall around it disappears.
“You’re a menace.” Jase surveys the half-boiled noodles. “I can’t believe you let perfectly good spirals go to waste.”
I pull my shirt back over my head. “Oh, yeah, all me.”
“You’re the one who turned the stove off.” He gestures to the pot.
“Well, yeah, because I didn’t want it to over-boil on us.”
He drains the noodles into a colander and rinses out the pan. “Guess shells will have to do, then.”
I give him a pointed look, and he replies with an oh shucks gesture. “Oh!” I say, pieces all coming together. “You did this on purpose, so we would end up with shells but you’re not the bad guy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jase turns his attention back to the pot.
“Uh huh. Here I am thinking you’ve changed, and here you are being the same person you’ve always been.” I’m joking, but when he turns, there’s hurt all over his face.
His voice drops. “I would hope I’ve learned a few things since you left …”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “I did see firsthand some things you’ve learned.”
He doesn’t laugh. He looks at me, blinking, expressionless.
“Jase …” I step closer. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was joking.”
“I know.” He bows his head. “I … I really am sorry for everything that went down between us. I was hurting, but I’ve spent all this time wishing I hadn’t pushed you away.”
I purse my lips. “I know.” Sighing, I clap my hands together. “I regret leaving.”
He smirks. “Quite the pair, aren’t we? So, now what?” He holds his breath, waiting for me to say something.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
He offers me an out. “Mac and cheese?”
“Mac and cheese,” I reply, taking it.
“Well …” He approaches the stove again to take in the boiling and pour shells right in. “Brace yourself, Dailey, my Mac and cheese game has improved.”
“It couldn’t possibly; you’re using the same noodles.”
“Oh, I know I’ve always been a big shell guy. It’s never gonna change, let’s be real, but my cheese game has improved.”
“Oh?” I’m intrigued.
“Wait and see.”
I laugh and let him have this point. As we sit down to dinner, I admit it is pretty good. We’re mid-conversation about each of our days, about a funny story about a customer at the Firefly , and our old days working at the diner together. It’s all easy. It’s easy to talk to him, laugh with him, forget the last six years that happened without him, and imagine what our life could be like right here, with dinners together and Hyla lounging in the living room.
And when we clean up the dishes and kitchen, it’s easy to imagine how normal our life could be, just us. When we go lay on the hammock on the wraparound deck and watch the sunset, it’s easy to imagine growing old together, and when we fade off to sleep, I can hear Jase say my name and kiss my forehead. I can hear him say goodnight and sweet dreams. I can feel his heartbeat against mine. In the last moments before I fade off to dreamland, I can’t help but imagine how this could be forever, if it weren’t for my traitorous heart warning me about a life in New York City calling my name.