Chapter 14 #2
“Smith.”
He nods once, and I do the same. The interaction is brief and mature and almost normal. I assume he’s going to move seats, sit somewhere that’s not right next to me, because surely he knows the other night doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends now.
He doesn’t move.
Bastard.
The bartender walks over, and Jasper orders a beer.
After downing the rest of my bourbon, I order another.
I’m clearly going to need it. There’s a voice in the back of my mind, telling me I should move.
Just because he sat down beside me doesn’t mean I have to stay.
But I was here first. I’m not moving and giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me.
He’s not.
Ten minutes pass—maybe fifteen—and neither of us says a word.
The longer I sit here, the more I think it’s a mistake.
Old Garth Brooks hums softly, people laugh somewhere behind us, and the world keeps moving.
Meanwhile, we’re apparently reenacting the world’s most awkward hostage situation.
Except neither of us is actually being forced to stay here.
If I had to guess, I’d say his reasoning is rooted in the same stubbornness as mine is.
Like hell am I going to let it ruin my night. Well, more than it already is. So what? He’s sitting next to me. Big deal. I’ve dealt with worse situations. At least he’s not talking.
“You know, we don’t have to pretend we’re strangers.”
Spoke too soon.
I glance over at him. “We’re not.”
Jasper watches me with an amused look on his face. “Kind of.”
My pulse kicks up as the corner of his mouth twitches. “Well, I’m not trying to,” I murmur before taking another swig. “Just had a day and came here to unwind.”
He nods. “Wade told me about the issue at the cabins.”
I clench my jaw. “Yeah. It’s not a big deal. We’ll be back to work in the morning.”
Jasper pauses for a moment, taking a pull from his beer. “How long have you known him?”
My brows dip. “Who? Wade?”
He nods.
“Shit. I don’t know.” I blow out a breath. “He was my buddy, Nate’s, neighbor for a while in our early twenties.”
“Oh, damn. A while then.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t really seem like someone you’d be friends with.”
I snort, the comment taking me by surprise. “Why’s that?”
Jasper shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s friendly…and funny.”
“And I’m not friendly or funny?”
The look he gives me makes my mouth curl with amusement. “I mean… Not really. Well, I suppose you can be funny sometimes. But friendly? No. Have you seen yourself? You’ve got a doctorate in resting bitch face.”
I lift my brows and chuckle. “Wow, I’m offended.”
He huffs. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” I flash him a sickly-sweet smile. “But back to what you said. Wade’s always been closer to Nate than me. I like the guy; we’ve been friends for years, but I tend to prefer Wade in smaller doses. Hell, I prefer most people in smaller doses.”
Shaking his head, Jasper says, “Sounds about right.”
“Why? Because I’m unfriendly?”
Jasper nods. “Pretty much. Even when you were a kid, you weren’t all that approachable.”
“Now that’s a fucking lie. I was a peach back then.”
He laughs—actually laughs—and the sound hits me right in the chest. It’s familiar. Painfully familiar. It’s the same laugh from down by the creek all those years ago. The same laugh from our secret fishing day trips. It’s the same laugh I haven’t heard in years.
Jasper’s smile fades slightly, and I know he’s having the same realization. It’s affecting him too. The silence returns after that, but it’s different this time. Like we’re both taking a walk down memory lane in the privacy of our own minds.
“Sometimes I miss it,” he says softly.
He doesn’t need to elaborate because I already know… The creek. Our summers together. How things got confusing in the best way.
I clear my throat. “Me too.” My honesty surprises me. Staring into my bourbon, I ask, “You ever think about it?”
We don’t look at each other. Part of me thinks that if we make eye contact right now, I’ll put an end to this conversation like I know I should. But I don’t want to. At least not yet. And that has my heart pounding for a whole different reason.
Jasper stills. The noise of the bar fades into the background. “I do,” he admits.
“I do too,” I admit.
I think about those days more than I’d like to admit.
Us being kids before everything fell apart.
Before everything changed. The hot summer afternoons spent fishing, listening to music, and eating our weight in chips.
The early mornings when we somehow managed to sneak away with a couple of horses and ride through the trails surrounding our properties.
The evenings spent hiding away from families that would’ve lost their minds if they knew where we were.
We’d watch the sun sink into the horizon.
Talk about our dreams and the future. Laugh for hours about shit that probably wasn’t even funny.
Being around him made me feel lighter than I’ve ever felt.
Seeing Jasper used to be the best part of my day, and now it’s a knife to the gut and a reminder of everything I ruined.
“What about that damn feud?” This time, I do look at him, finding him already watching me with an expression I can’t quite place.
He huffs a breath before taking a pull from the bottle.
“All the time. There for a while, I thought things were kind of settling. My dad and yours didn’t scowl as much if they saw each other.
But then, like ten years ago, I guess my father outbid yours for a prime bull at the auction.
” Laughing, he adds, “Apparently, that wasn’t the first time either. ”
I roll my eyes and snort. “Figures. Dad always was serious and competitive about his cattle. But I doubt auctions were the reason for the feud back in the day.”
“Oh, god no.” He chuckles. “It’s something else, for sure. But I don’t think we’ll ever really know.”
I nod, letting a moment pass. “Feels stupid now.”
A dry laugh escapes him. “Now?”
His eyes meet mine, dark and steady. Something passes between them that sends goosebumps across my arms. I swallow thickly, this moment suddenly feeling a lot bigger than I’m ready for.
“Damn,” he says, looking away first. “You’ve really changed over the years.”
The words hit harder than they should. Everybody changes as they get older, but that’s not what he means.
My brother’s death changed me. The aftermath hardened me.
I can’t remember the last time I was the barefoot and carefree boy from the creek.
The one who was full of hope and teenage dreams. The one who was in love with a boy he wasn’t supposed to even like.
Now I’m right back here, in this town, sitting at the bar with that same boy, but this time, there’s no hope. There’s no love. There can’t be. Too much has changed.
We aren’t kids anymore.
We’re two grown men in our thirties, carrying the weight of our families on our backs. The cancer, the responsibility, the debt. But I let myself sit in this moment, like we’re fourteen again. Like we’re just two kids reminiscing. I let myself soak in what used to be easy and natural. Safe.
It doesn’t last long before reality returns with a punch. It always does.
Jasper takes another drink, and so do I. In my periphery, I see him looking at me. “So.”
Shifting in my seat, I meet his gaze. “So?”
“It’s late. Think I’m gonna head out,” he says. “You probably should too if you’ve gotta be up before the birds.”
I groan loudly. “Don’t remind me.” Downing the rest of my drink, I set it on the counter face down and shake my head. “Guess I probably should call it a night too.”
After we pay our tabs, we walk out to our trucks, his parked next to mine. Did he notice that when he parked? And if so, did he go in the bar knowing he’d find me? Hoping to find me?
Nah. I doubt it.
I grab my keys out of my pocket, while Jasper does the same. We’re both standing on the sidewalk in front of our respective trucks. I don’t know why, but this suddenly feels awkward. Like neither of us is sure how to get in and drive away.
Jasper glances at me, and I meet his gaze.
I didn’t get a good look inside since we were sitting at the counter, but he looks good.
Too damn good. He’s standing under the neon glow, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, looking like he belongs anywhere but here.
A faded Wind River shirt stretches over his broad chest, sleeves hugging his arms just right.
Worn denim sits low on his hips, and his boots are scuffed from a long day on the ranch.
My eyes linger a second too long.
His jaw is sharp and covered in scruff that makes my stomach tighten, and his dark-blond hair falls messily across his forehead. My body remembers him before my brain can remind it that remembering is never a smart idea.
My pulse knocks harder as heat crawls up my neck. I look toward the empty street. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jasper clears his throat. “Yeah. Goodnight.”
After I climb into my truck, I wait until he’s gone before I exhale a heavy breath.
I rest my head on the back of the seat and stare at the ceiling, annoyed with how my body reacted to him.
Because apparently nearly twenty years, a family feud, and all the reasons I walked away aren’t enough to make me forget the boy I once loved.