3. Jace
THREE
JACE
Once sleep clears from my head, I reach for my phone.
Me
I’m grabbing coffee before heading to the jobsite. Want anything?
Brad
You’re setting yourself up.
Me
How so? I’m buying caffeine before a long day of smacking a hammer against wood. Something wrong with that?
Brad
You know exactly what, don’t act dumb. It’s a messy situation. Leave it.
Good thing I enjoy messy.
My phone vibrates with Brad’s final message.
Brad
And yes, I’ll take coffee.
He can never go long without caffeine. Truthfully, even if he said no, he’ll be getting one so no one has to deal with his cranky, caffeine-deprived ass.
I throw on jeans and a plain black tee, with a flannel shirt overtop to counter the mid-April chill that sometimes still lingers, before donning a faded black cap with my company’s logo practically peeling from it. By the door, I slip into construction boots that track a bit of extra dirt than normal.
Dirt from the woods behind Payton’s house, where I watched and waited last night until catching sight of her. After an hour of standing there, she appeared wrapped in a towel that sat high on her thigh, giving me a tantalizing peek of skin. With the distance, I knew she couldn’t see me. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of her I could make out either, which only added to my eagerness to get to Fawn’s and see her in person for the first time in eight years.
She was looking for me. Somehow, she knew. Her head turned every so often, searching. I wished I could have seen her eyes—a vibrant combination of blue and grey, like a rainstorm in the evening—filled with delicious fear. I craved to witness the way she gripped her towel tighter and shifted from foot to foot.
Payton’s fear…fuck, that’d be nirvana.
Her social media hasn’t been updated in years, so getting to see her up close has me finishing getting ready quickly, grabbing my phone and keys, and heading outside to my truck.
She was beautiful back then, and the limited view I got last night showed she’s still just as gorgeous, if not more. She looks good. Healthy. She actually has hips to grab on to, ones that won’t make me afraid I’ll accidentally snap her in two.
I leave the house a bit earlier than normal, knowing I’m not about to rush this interaction. Being the boss means I shouldn’t be late to the jobsite, but I don’t make a habit of it. Besides, we’ve only just begun working on our latest contract now; since the winter frost is mostly gone, we’re finally able to dig into the ground. Work’s been steady for the company, often hired for jobs in towns a few hours on either side of us. For this one, we’re building a new neighbourhood in the next town over.
I drive my beat-up truck a few streets over to the diner that’s been open since before my birth. It’s owned by an elderly couple, Fawn and Jim, who both somehow still work daily. Admittedly, it’s been much too long since I’ve dropped by, instead getting into the habit of making coffee to go at home. If Payton’s working here, though, it’s about to become my daily stop again.
The metal handle on the door to Fawn’s Diner is worn down from the numerous hands grabbing it, and mine is one more as I haul it open. Warmth pulls me inside, alongside the pleasant smells of freshly baked goods, coffee, and the best damn soup to exist on the planet.
There’s a small hum of chatter, and I scan over the handful of people sitting in the booths: an elderly couple in the nearest one, a group in the one at the very farthest end, and a younger girl in the middle one—a student, if the laptop, textbook, and visible stress are any indication.
I stride forward, noting the cheap Easter decorations everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Fawn took the weekend holiday and blew it up to involve window clings on every glass pane, egg-shaped cardboard streamers hanging from random ceiling tiles, mini rabbit figurines on each table, and baskets scattered on every other free surface. It looks like a store threw up.
I scan up and down for staff, praying Payton’s working today and no one else. Even if last night proved she’s as real as she was years ago, it wasn’t enough. To get through today, she better be here, and I better be able to talk with her.
When the door to the back swings open, my heart skips three beats and a hunger without a name, but one demanding satisfaction, ignites in my stomach.
Fuck, I won’t survive her this time.
“Good morning!” she calls out, eyes averted and head low.
Her hair tumbles from her loose ponytail, strands framing her face, and her freckles are as obvious as ever. Grey eyes lift, and her next words die on her tongue as she identifies me. In the past, her stormy eyes were lightning, sparking every time I was around, but now they speak of catastrophic events—of city-destroying floods and power-cutting winds. It’s pain. A pain undoubtedly put there by her asshole ex.
The sight of her after all this time shoves me off a cliff and straight into the past. For a moment, I’m not myself; I’m the kid she knew, tongue-tied in her presence.
Those fucking lips. Her face. Her body. She’s all curves, the perfect turbulent wave I long to run my hands over, feeling every inch for myself. She looks fucking amazing, even better than the woman from our high school graduation. Back then, she was so thin, like she wasn’t eating enough; I swear I would have broken her. Which was why, when I could, it was my mission to deposit snacks on her desk, disguising the act as a joke since I never witnessed her eating. It killed me she was starving herself, presumably for Aaron, but now she looks healthy.
One thousand percent, Aaron’s a fucking idiot for letting her go. Then again, he’s probably the kind of man who wants his women to kneel and obey his every whim, whereas I much prefer the fight, the excitement, the hunt. I want her to make it difficult because she craves it, not because she thinks she’s doing what I expect.
She smiles, and I’m yanked right back to the halls of the small high school we attended one town over. We weren’t friends per se, but were friendly, considering our lockers were beside one another for the four years we were there.
This Easter, I know what I’m praying for.
One night of sin with her.