2. Two #2
“And will you ever tell me what really happened, or will your reasons for steering clear always remain a mystery?” She blows out a heavy breath, not giving me a chance to answer.
“You know, for years, I told myself it’s none of my business.
That this is between you and Jake and that you’ll figure your shit out eventually.
But damn it, Tessa, you holding your cards so close to your chest affected all of us, and I think it’s past time you stop bluffing and just lay them all on the table already. ”
“I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as I can, and when I do, you may be able to understand my actions a little better. But I need to talk to Jake first. You’re right. I owe it to him to come clean, and he deserves to hear my side of the story before anyone else.”
Megan huffs in frustration and thanks the waiter when he stops by to drop off two ice-cold margaritas.
“I ordered the first round when you were in the ladies’ room,” she tells me when I raise a brow at the unexpected but welcome delivery.
“Figured you could use the liquid courage when I realized Jake was here.” And boy, was she right.
I can’t remember a time when I craved the numbing capabilities of top-shelf alcohol more than I do at this very moment.
Megan takes a tentative sip and sighs with appreciation before addressing me once more.
“You know, I’d love to support you and your choices, but all this secrecy is not making it easy for me to have your back.
Jake has proven himself to be a loyal and reliable friend time and time again, and once he dug himself out of that dark hole he’d fallen into after you moved away, he really was our saving grace. Carter and I owe that man everything.”
The fierce conviction in her tone tells me these aren’t empty words. She believes this to be true, and I take another swig from my drink once I’ve asked her why she thinks so.
“When Robert died, and he was finally given full reign of the company,” she explains, talking around a chunk of ice before crushing it between her molars.
“He didn’t shy away from making the hard calls.
He weeded out the bad apples and immediately offered Carter a full-time position.
He worked tirelessly to get Nelson Construction back on track after his good-for-nothing father all but ran it into the ground, and after he received the money from Robert’s life insurance policy, he came up with the idea of flipping houses.
We still lived with Carter’s parents at the time, and as much as I love my in-laws, we desperately needed to get out of that basement. ”
Megan’s wistful expression speaks of the challenges she’s faced, and I can’t help but feel gratitude toward Jake for having been there for my friends during their time of need.
“Carter was too proud to take charity from his parents, and he was juggling three minimum wage jobs, trying to save up enough money for a place of our own. It broke my heart knowing what he’d given up in order to support me and our son, just to work these mind-numbing jobs that barely paid enough to put food on the table. ”
Megan swallows hard before a rueful smile comes over her features.
“Jake was the one who finally convinced him that putting up the money to buy a house wasn’t charity.
That he’d been playing with the idea for a while but knew he wouldn’t be able to pull it off on his own.
He told Carter he needed a partner and someone to help look after Anna and Jude while they put in long hours.
Seeing as I was home with Nathan anyway, and feeling pretty damn useless as it was, I practically jumped at the chance to return the favor. ”
“I remember you telling me about this on the phone a few years back,” I say as I try to recall the specifics.
If memory serves me right, Carter balked at the idea initially but had eventually agreed, and because of the boys’ unrivaled work ethic, they’d managed to flip two houses within the first year, making it possible for my friends to buy their forever home.
“That year was one of the toughest years of our lives,” Megan admits with a faraway look.
“Raising a toddler in a construction zone was a fucking nightmare. Anna and Jude spent most of their days at our place, because Jake only seemed to go home to shower and sleep. The boys worked their day-jobs with Nelson Construction and focused on our investment properties after hours and on weekends. Fifteen-hour days weren’t uncommon, and I don’t think they ever took a day off.
I’m not a fool,” she says around a mouthful of margarita.
“I know Jake took a huge financial risk when he spotted us that money, and he certainly didn’t need the extra workload.
He did it because he knew Carter was miserable and too proud to accept a handout.
He gave my husband a purpose. Something to be proud of at the end of each day, and I’ll always love him for that.
He’s my family, Tessa, and when it comes to my family, I’m fiercely protective.
” My friend offers me an apologetic smile and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“I hope to God he comes around and gives you another chance because, to this day, I still believe you two are meant for each other. I love you both dearly, and I want to see you happy. But here’s the thing about those protective instincts,” she says, giving me a pointed look.
“Once you love someone, you just can’t help but worry.
I don’t want to see him get hurt again. Jake’s been to hell and back, and he’s not as trusting as he used to be.
He’s scarred and guarded, and breaking through his defenses won’t be easy.
Now it’s on you to decide if he’s worth putting in the work,” Megan finishes, issuing a silent challenge.
I blow out a tired breath in an effort to regain control over the emotional turmoil churning in my belly.
“All I want is a chance to explain myself,” I tell her in a voice that oozes defeat, and Megan’s gaze instantly softens.
“Look, I’ll do my best to put in a good word for you, but in the end, it’s up to him whether or not he wants to hear you out.
I won’t risk the friendship we’ve built by pushing him toward something he doesn’t want.
He might seem put together on the outside.
But behind that tough exterior, he’s still the same abused little boy you once knew.
So, I’m asking you to tread carefully. I see how you look at him, and you can tell me you didn’t come home for him all you want.
The longing in your eyes tells a different story.
If you decide to pursue him and see if that special connection you once had is still there, you better make sure it’s what you want this time.
Because if you manage to work your way back into his heart and then decide he’s not what you want after all, he won’t survive it. ”
I take a moment to let Megan’s words sink in as I allow my gaze to wander across the room and settle on the man in question.
Dragging my eyes across his wide shoulders, over his broad back and down between those narrow hips, I let them linger on his tight ass a little longer than appropriate.
He’s fully engaged in a conversation with his friends, throwing his head back as he laughs heartily at something the bartender said.
On the outside he looks relaxed, utterly comfortable in his own skin.
But I’m a journalist. I know damn well that nothing is ever the way it seems. There’s usually more to the story than surface-level research first suggests.
You just have to be willing to dig a little deeper.
If Megan is to be believed, then maybe Jake isn’t acting like a jerk because he’s being spiteful or even out of sheer stubbornness.
Maybe he’s struggling with my sudden reappearance because I threaten his calm exterior.
He’s keeping me at arm's length to protect himself. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he catches my gaze and holds it like he needs to assure himself that I’m real.
My heart gives a single hard thump when I catch a flicker of emotion in his baby blues. Could it be? Could he still be just as crazy about me as I am about him? Do we truly have a chance to rekindle the flame that has always burned far too hot to be ignored?
For the next hour, our little game of cat and mouse continues.
I actively force myself to pay attention to Megan’s animated chatter and do my best to enjoy the live music the various performers provide.
Still, I can’t stop myself from seeking him out time and time again.
Every so often, I catch him staring back at me, a tight, almost bewildered expression on his handsome features.
Like he doesn’t want to even acknowledge my presence but can’t stop his eyes from landing on me.
And judging by his creased forehead, his lack of control really seems to piss him off.
When the latest act finishes up his acoustic cover of Blackstreet’s ‘No Diggity’ and no one else comes forward, Jake’s friends begin shoving him toward the stage.
I can’t make out what’s being said from a distance, but it’s obvious the last thing he wants to do is indulge them.
“It seems we ran out of artists, folks, so unless someone is willing to volunteer, we’ll have to put on a boring playlist for you to enjoy,” the host’s announcement booms over the sound system, which is met by a symphony of loud boos.
“Come on, Jake. Just one song,” a middle-aged lady at a neighboring table shouts, cupping her hands to be heard over the deafening crowd. Several other people chime in, and Jake shakes his head, striking a casual pose against the bar and lifting his beer to indicate he’s just fine where he is.