7. Chapter 7 I Fuggen Love You
Jenna: October
The hum of the engine fades as we pull into the mechanic shop, but the adrenaline buzz still lingers.
Dylan parks the bike, and I hop off, trying to play it cool.
But my forty-year-old legs feel like jiggly Jell-O.
He takes my helmet off, and that damn look in his eyes makes my heart do stupid flutter things it has no business doing.
I quickly look away and follow him inside.
While my car gets worked on, I do something I haven’t done in months: I pull out a book buried in the clutter of my bag. I know I’ll probably never have time for it, but my brain insists I keep it there just in case. And today, I finally get to sink into a story that isn’t my own.
A few pages later, I can feel Dylan watching me, standing nearby. “Let me guess,” he says, teasing. “He’s dancing with her in the rain under a tree, whispering sweet nothings because she’s the love of his life? But they should’ve been struck by lightning by now.”
I snort. “For your information, Mr. Hayes, she is in the rain, but she’s being chased by a serial killer who probably wants to cut off her ears for souvenirs.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Dark, but fun. I like it. Tell me more.” And then he chooses to sit two seats away from me. Did I forget deodorant or something?
Before I can reply, something moves on the table next to my purse and holy shit—a SPIDER. A squeal bursts out of me. I jump back, my chair scraping so hard it nearly tips over.
Dylan looks over, smirking. “So… you’re a screamer?”
I glare at him. “Oh my God, shut up. I’m not scared of spiders. I just—"
“Like to scream?” He cuts in, trying to contain the grin tugging at his lips.
I narrow my eyes, heat rising to my cheeks. “Startle easily.”
“Sure.” He flicks the gross thing away, his smirk oozing with sex. “That’s what they all say.”
I cross my arms. “It was huge.”
He leans back, considering. “Meh. Decent-sized. But I wouldn’t say huge.”
“Bigger than most I’ve seen,” I counter.
His gaze drops to my lips for half a second. “That’s what they all say too.” His voice softens. "But seriously, tell me about the book.”
My pulse stumbles. “You really want to hear about my silly books? At least that’s how my husband describes them.”
“Yeah. Why not? I'd love to.” His smile is disarming, genuine this time. “Sounds a lot more interesting than talking about oil changes with Louie.”
His curiosity catches me off guard. “Well, reading is my little happy place… even if the characters are running for their lives.”
As I continue to talk, he listens, laughing at my dramatic plot summaries, nodding as I share how books have been my escape from my chaotic childhood and the one stable thing in my life—until Jacob.
He hangs onto every word, his gaze steady as the conversation flows naturally.
I find myself telling him more than I meant to, feeling like I’ve known him forever.
It’s refreshing having someone really listen.
And for once, it has nothing to do with bills, dinner, or who forgot to take out the trash.
Maybe sitting a couple of seats away was the right move. The distance suddenly feels necessary.
Trying to shake off the growing tension, I blurt out.
“Enough about me. Does your girlfriend like to read too? Got any cats or dogs? Ghosts or aliens? Guilty pleasures? Siblings?” My face heats up as the words tumble out like a verbal fucking avalanche.
Why does he do this to me? With anyone else, I have a filter.
With him? My brain-to-mouth connection is completely broken.
His smile falters, and I feel stupid for prying. “Sorry,” I backpedal, “I didn’t mean to grill you with a hundred questions. Let me get back to my serial killers.”
But Dylan doesn’t seem fazed. He moves closer, the faint scent of his cologne—earthy and warm—wraps around me, the same way Jacob’s used to.
“You’re not prying,” he says, his voice low. “As for a girlfriend… no, she doesn’t read.” He pauses over the sound of metal steel grinding, the noise fading into the background. “Because I don’t have one.”
I arch an eyebrow. I would’ve bet he had at least twenty. “Really? No girlfriend?”
“Really.” His lips curve slightly. “And for the others. Cats and dogs. Aliens over ghosts—I’ve got enough ghosts in my past. And guilty pleasures?” He inches forward, his voice dipping lower. “Cute, clumsy women… and listening to The Little Mermaid soundtrack when I take bubble baths.”
I laugh and can’t help myself. “You? Bubble baths and Ariel? I don’t buy it, Mr. Motorcycle-Skydiving-Cowboy. The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie.”
“Want proof?” His eyes glint with pure trouble. “I can send a photo next time.”
“Uh, no, thanks, I believe you.” I bite my lip to keep from giggling harder or drooling at picturing him in the bath. “And siblings?”
His expression turns heavier. “Two older sisters and an older brother. But he died a long time ago.”
My chest tightens instantly. “I’m so sorry, Dylan.”
“It is what it is,” he says lightly, but the weight behind it stays. “Now, your turn. Same questions—and your guilty pleasure can’t be me.” He winks, raising his eyebrow.
Before I can answer, his cousin calls his name, breaking whatever moment we had. He steps away, leaving me with uncomfortable thoughts. Shit. I almost forgot why I’m here. I glance down at my phone, the screen lighting up with new messages.
Mom: Jinxy, why aren’t you picking up? Broke things off with Leo. He was a real tool . Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m heading to New Orleans for a fun girls’ weekend. Happy Birthday to my favorite only daughter. See you when I get back.
Classic Mom. On to the next.
Izzy: Jinx, Happy Birthday! I fuggen love you, Jenna Jinx! I got you a free dance, but mine will be better later.
I open the video she sent—a dog twerking to Usher—and laugh. Izzy knows me too well. I love Usher… and her, who’s been saying “fuggen” for eight years, ever since my kids started parroting her every word.
Jacob: Happy Birthday again. Did I tell you how lucky I am to have you, even when we argue over dumb stuff? I have a quiet night planned at your favorite restaurant with the girls and Izzy. You’re going to love it.
I roll my eyes. Yes, Jacob, you tell me once a year or on special occasions.
And that sounds great—if only it were true.
But I know better. It’s another surprise party.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids and Izzy.
But I don’t love big crowds or having everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for me to smile at the exact right time.
And just because I like planning parties, doesn’t mean I want to be the center of one.
Jacob: Oh, and great news. Silver Creek Rescue agreed to take Wobbles. We’ll break the news to the girls tomorrow and soften the blow with a trip to the toy store.
I stare at the message, reading it twice.
I knew this was coming. I knew we couldn’t keep Wobbles, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Of course, the kids and I got attached. The chaotic thing made us laugh, always squeezing into the tiniest boxes, curling up to us in the most adorable ways. And now we have to say goodbye.
I toss my phone into my bag, pushing down the hard lump in my throat. When I look up, Dylan’s staring at me with those hazel eyes that send my heart into overdrive.
“Everything okay?” he asks, gently.
“Yeah,” I lie, though my voice gives me away.
He tilts his head like he’s not buying it. “It’s all good if you don’t want to talk about it. But if you do… I’m here.”
The way he says it so sincerely makes me want to spill everything.
“It’s fine.” I shake my head. “My husband just found a home for Wobbles, the cat my daughter found a few weeks ago. Some animal shelter called Silver Creek. Not looking forward to having that conversation with my girls.”
Dylan nods slowly. “Shit, that sounds tough. And I get it. Families can be… complicated.”
The air between us shifts, heavy with everything left unsaid. Before I can dwell on it, Louie calls out, “Dylan! Car’s ready in fifteen minutes!”
Dylan leans in slightly. “Don’t worry,” he says, low enough that only I can hear. “This will be our little secret.”
The way he says it makes my pulse quicken. Why do I get the feeling he has a lot more secrets? I try to focus back on my book, but it’s useless. Every so often, I catch Dylan’s eyes flicking from his phone back to me, like there’s something else he wants to say.
And maybe I have something to say too.