Chapter 7 #2
They are all partly right. The two of us being part of something more, it’s inevitable, but I don’t think I’m ready to accept that. Jase is everywhere. He’s in my space, apparently in my daydreams. Even when he’s not in the room, I feel him sneaking into every one of my thoughts.
“Are you scared?” I don’t answer Bailey’s question right away, because I don’t know what I feel.
“It’s just a lot. I’m bringing a baby into the world, and some days I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I don’t know how to survive.”
Raven leans in closer, understanding in her eyes. She’s nearly seven years younger than us, and her maturity is on another level for a young woman her age, who should be out partying and enjoying life instead of staying in with the lot of us. “Then we stand with you.”
Billie nods. “Every messy, beautiful, terrifying step of the way.”
“And when you need a break from the scary,” Bailey says, “we’ll be here with burnt pizza rolls, fried cheese, gossip and country music. The angry, scorned women kind.”
This is my village, my safe space, my sanity. Proof that I don’t have to carry it all alone. Looking around at my friends—loud, bold and all in their own way flawed like me—I don’t feel broken or judged. I feel loved. It’s an odd and unfamiliar feeling, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Tears prick my eyes, but I don’t want to cry, even if they are happy tears
“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject with a clear throat. “Rae, before I forget again. Last week, you said you wanted to ask me something?”
A warm blush creeps up her neck as she adjusts her position on the couch and takes another sip of wine, her third glass of the night. I’m not at all judging her, but she seems uneasy about my question.
“Well, actually, my aunt Helen might be moving away. No, I mean she is moving out of Crossroads and selling her condo. I can’t really afford it with a bartender’s salary, and I was kind of thinking maybe, hoping actually, you had a spare room at the ranch I could rent out.
I’d pay, obviously, but Billie mentioned that maybe now that it was remodeled there was a little barn house I could use? ” Her statement is more of a question.
“Yes, of course. I mean, I’d have to check in with Monty, but I’m sure he’d have no issue with it.”
“That’s the thing,” she says. “I don’t think your brother likes me very much.” Her voice is small, hesitant, with a slight tremor betraying her worry.
“Oh, nonsense. Monty loves everybody. He is just a big old grump who doesn’t show it.” I nudge her shoulder, a reassuring gesture that feels flimsy even to me. Monty is selective about who he interacts with, and it may just be because, at twenty-one, Raven is nearly fifteen years younger than him.
“That’s what I told her,” Billie says.
Raven shrugs her shoulders, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. She looks so much younger today. Her face is free of makeup and bright green eyes full of wonder, but behind them lies a deeper sorrow I understand all too well.
“I just…he kind of always looks at me weird. Like with this deep scowl that looks like he's planning how to murder me. I swear I heard him huff and growl at me the last time I served him at Stingers.”
“That’s probably because he was pissed off at himself for wanting to fuck your brains out.”
“That’s also what I told her,” Billie laughs, agreeing with Bailey.
“Oh God, no,” Raven exclaims, the slight pink tint now a bright scarlet.
“Relax,” I tell her. “The girls are just messing with you. The last thing we need is another of my brothers dating another of my friends. We’re already too twisted for that.”
Just as I am about to ask Raven when she needs to find a place to stay, my phone vibrates on the coffee table, an incoming text message lighting up the screen.
Jase’s name stares back at me, though before I can reach for it, Billie does, holding up to my face to unlock it before she opens the message.
Jase: It’s getting late. Thought maybe you’d need a ride. I’m pulling up outside.
Without a word, Billie gets up with my phone in hand and rushes out the front door of her apartment. Bailey and Raven chase after her, and once I'm up on my feet, I do so too.
The sound of Jase’s truck rumbles before we even see it. He pulls up slowly, headlights off, window already rolled down. “Whoa, there. I texted one and four appeared. It must be my lucky night.”
His hair is messy and wet, like he’s just gotten out of the shower, and his blue eyes glisten under the light of the moon.
He’s casually dressed in a gray tee that hugs the muscles of his arms perfectly under a light blue and tan checkered flannel, and he almost looks better than he did shirtless the other day.
“Jameson,” Billie says. “Weird seeing you here?”
“Just came by to see if Monroe needed a ride.” He turns to me, his eyes connecting with mine as he smiles. “Saw your car in the driveway when I got home, figured you didn’t drive yourself.”
I clear my throat, and the sound that leaves my lips sounds nothing like me. “I was planning on probably just spending the night. I guess I should have said something to you.” The bastard nods with a wink when I explain.
“Well, since you came all this way,” Billie says, shoving me toward the truck. “Why don’t you just go home, Moe? We’ll see you tomorrow or next week for round two. Maybe at your place?”
I’m too tired and annoyed to argue, so I yank my phone out of Billie’s hand and wave my friends off with a middle finger in the air. “Fuck you guys. Goodnight, love you.”
Without turning off the engine, Jase exits the car and rounds to the passenger side. “Tired?” he asks, his voice low and soft.
I roll my eyes but smile at the memory of tonight. “Exhausted. They made me laugh until I nearly pissed myself.”
“Sounds like just what you needed.” He opens the door, helping me in gently, treating me like I might break, however, it doesn’t make me feel fragile. His hand lingers on the small of my back longer than necessary.
Once inside, I lean my head against the window, aware we still have an audience. The truck smells of cedar and spearmint gum, and the familiarity of it makes me nauseous. Like butterflies swarming inside, not because I’m pregnant and need to throw up.
“You okay?” he asks after a minute of silence as he settles in beside me.
“It just feels weird, them knowing about us. I know Bailey’s dating my brother, but I don’t know, this feels…”
He gently places a hand on my upper knee, his fingers softly tracing circles along my jeans, not aware of how the simple instinctive touch is making my core tighten with something a little stronger than desire.
“We can’t worry about how it feels to anyone but us. I already told you, I’m following your pace. You lead the way in everything. I just want to be a part of your life, of our baby’s life, in whatever aspect you allow me to be.”
His words continue to surprise me, but deep down I’m unable to trust them. It makes me uneasy to think he’s all in, and I still can’t get past the idea of him changing his mind. “You still want this? To do this together, even if things between us are awkward?”
His smile shifts into a teasing smirk as his eyes trail from my face down to the low-cut top I'm wearing under the soft baby blue cardigan. “They’re only awkward because you’re overthinking it too much.
I want every version of this,” he says. “Even the one where you’re cranky and hormonal and taunting me by wearing that. ”
I look down at the sliver of cleavage peeking out from the neck of my shirt and smile. “If this bit of skin gets you going, then we might be in for a rude awakening come summer.”
“Moonshine,” he says, his voice slick and smooth. “It’s not the soft, silky skin of your perfect tits that gets me hard. It’s the memory of how they felt in my hands, tasted on my tongue and the vision of what you look like underneath that has me salivating for more.”
I can't breathe. I can’t even fathom a response to his outright confession of what I do to him. Jase has never been shy. Not about what he likes or wants. But I don't know if I can handle the boldness when, just like him, I can't get the memories out of my head.
He reaches over and laces his fingers through mine. “Let’s go home.”
Home is nothing more than a place I am used to being empty. Ours is full of hope and a love capable of blossoming because he’s not asking for perfection, just a chance to make things work.