Chapter 47
Jake
I leave Scarlett’s house on cloud nine. Now, my intentions when I went over there were not to take her to bed.
I saw her go into her greenhouse and I remembered her saying she wanted to pick my brain about the setup.
So I finished up my morning chores and walked over to ask if she still needed help.
After I scared her and she started her classic Scarlett banter with me I just couldn’t help it.
She stood there in her tight skinny jeans and fitted t-shirt, leaving nothing about her curves to the imagination, and I just couldn’t stop myself from wanting to put my hands on her.
If I had my way, I’d still be in bed with her going for round two or maybe round three by now but Scarlett had some errands she needed to run in town.
It took everything in me not to ask to ride along but I’m trying my best to play it cool.
Something about this woman has intrigued me from the very beginning though. We may have butted heads but at the same time there’s been this magnetic force that just draws me to her. But, again, playing it cool. Super cool. Ice cold. I’m doomed.
The biggest thing I have going for me is that Cami is coming over after school today. That should serve as a nice distraction from how badly I want to put my hands all over her again.
To distract myself I look at some of the things I need to work on for next week’s farmers market.
Every week I have a list of things I’ve run out of or a list of things that I need to prepare for special orders.
Patty requested a bouquet of lilies and roses that she’s going to take to a friend’s gravesite.
Martha wants more lavender soap, she was quite annoyed with me when Betty snagged the last one right before her.
Maggie, who is new to town, asked me if I have ever made a strawberry lemonade scented soap which I haven’t but thought maybe I could try.
Rosie overheard Maggie’s request and asked if I could also make that into a lotion.
Several hours later and I finished my to-do list just in time before Cami came speeding through the front door and out the back just like she always does. Amelia steps into the front door and instead of trying to chastise Cami she simply shakes her head and closes the door behind her.
“How’s it going loverboy?” Amelia asks.
“How long is that going to stick around?” I ask, referring to the nickname. Why is it that every woman in my life seems to want to give me a nickname?
“Probably until you do something else that grants a new one,” she teases.
“But I’m being sort of serious, how’s it going?
” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning ear to ear.
There’s no way I can tell Amelia that I waltzed over to Scarlett’s house and basically threw her over my shoulder and took her to bed.
The problem with my sister though is that she’s somehow an evil genius that can read minds and I don’t have to tell her about Scarlett.
She just knows. She takes one look at my face, and even though I’ve kept it neutral, says, “I knew it. You finally manned up and told her how you feel?”
Well, I certainly manned up but talking about feelings? Yeah, that didn’t really happen yet.
“Good for you,” she says, continuing with her assumptions, and puts her hand in the air for a high five.
Hesitantly, I smack her hand because what else am I supposed to do, but it feels pretty weird knowing I just high fived my sister for sleeping with my neighbor.
Life is officially weird. “Don’t fuck it up okay? ”
That wakes me up from my stupor, “What? What makes you say that?”
“I just know you,” she says as she laughs but I don’t see what’s funny. “Listen, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just mean for once, don’t overthink this. Have fun with her. Don’t get all in your head about it.”
“Well, I wasn’t all in my head until you told me not to fuck it up and now I’m all in my head about how I could fuck it up.
” Her grin softens and when she looks at me I realize how much she looks like our mom.
I can remember a time when I was small and upset about something, I can’t even remember what and she looked at me just the way Amelia is looking at me now.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you get all up in your head about it,” she gestures wildly, “you’re amazing and I want to see you happy.
If Scarlett makes you happy, then chase that happiness.
Hold on to it and don’t let go. Because you deserve it.
You deserve her. You deserve a family if you want one.
Listen, I’m saying all this because I know that you sacrificed everything you dreamed of as a kid to come back and take care of Dad.
And truthfully, I thought as soon as he was gone you’d sell the farm and move back to Cali.
When you didn’t, I was so happy that I’d get to have you around, especially for Cami to have her uncle around all the time.
But as the years went on, I’ve seen you dig deeper into this sort of rut that you have.
You buried your roots deep into the soil here and while I don’t think roots are a bad thing, I think there’s something going on that’s kept you from really being truly happy and I’m not sure why.
I don’t know if you think you don’t deserve it, or you think you won’t get it because Mom left.
But, neither of those reasons are true. You absolutely deserve happiness.
And not every woman out there is as selfish as Mom.
Whether it’s Scarlett or not, there’s a woman out there that wants this life. With you.”
“Well fuck Amelia, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?
” I sigh and walk away from my sister. Suddenly I feel uncomfortably antsy.
I roll my shoulders and try to dispel this feeling from my body.
I grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water just for something to do.
“Why did you have to go and bring Mom up like that?” I ask.
We haven’t talked about Mom in years. She didn’t even attend Dad’s funeral.
Which was the last straw for me. For years after she left I thought she’d be back.
I had hope back then. But once I graduated high school and she was nowhere to be seen, I let it go.
I let go of the delusion that Mom left Dad and realized she left me and Amelia too.
“Because I go to therapy,” Amelia says. She side-eyes me, waiting for my reaction.
“You do?” Is all I ask.
“Yeah, you probably should too,” she says and I know she doesn’t mean it as an insult.
I’m not an idiot. I know that our mom up and leaving when we were kids was detrimental.
I know that classically she and I probably have mommy issues but I just don’t know that I have the ability to sit and talk to a stranger about it.
“Well, I’m proud of you.” She studies me, as if that is surprising to her. “What? I am. It takes a lot of strength to do that.” And I mean it, I just don’t know if I have that strength.
As if she is reading my mind again, she walks over to me and lays something on the counter next to me.
“You can be strong too,” she says, “I gotta get to work, don’t be in your head.
” She puts her hand on my arm and gives it a little squeeze before she turns around to leave.
Without turning back she says, “I’ll text you when I’m done with my shift. ”
I look down at the counter and it’s a business card. Sheila Garrison is written in bold letters above the word therapist.