Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jess
The second I opened my eyes, I regretted it and squeezed them shut again, groaning.
Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window. It was entirely too bright, as if the sun held a personal vendetta against me.
My head pounded as if my brain were actively trying to split into two separate pieces.
The birds in the trees outside were far too enthusiastic for such an early hour, chirping and singing as if I wasn’t only moments away from succumbing to my self-inflicted illness.
For a few minutes, I entertained the idea that death would be preferable to this hungover hell I’d created for myself.
When I finally worked up the energy, I groaned and rolled onto my side, immediately regretting it.
Okay. Definitely too much prosecco.
And tequila shots.
Why had I thought shots were a good idea?
I waited for the room to stop spinning again before I dared crack an eye open to take in my surroundings.
I was in my bedroom. Still fully dressed, under a throw blanket.
On my bedside table was a glass of water and two Tylenol.
Preston.
A vague memory of him bringing me home from the bar took shape in my head, fuzzy at first and then solidifying with a clarity that made me groan and squeeze my eyes shut again for an entirely different and mortifying reason.
Given the amount of alcohol I’d consumed, it was a miracle I could remember anything at all, let alone every excruciatingly embarrassing detail.
The bar. The stupid sash over my chest. Dancing too close. His hands on my waist and the way that had made me feel. The empty feeling when he stepped back.
I slapped both hands to my face and dragged them down. “You’re such an idiot, Jess.”
I remembered everything.
And somehow that felt way worse than not remembering anything at all.
Because there was no way I could forget the ache in my chest when I’d told him things that I hadn’t even admitted to myself yet.
And the worst part wasn’t even that I’d said them.
It was that if I let myself believe them now, everything I was trying to hold together would fall apart.
God.
I reached for the pills and swallowed them down with a gulp of water before reaching for my phone, which Preston had thoughtfully plugged in on the bedside table.
The screen lit up with a series of missed texts.
Just Us Girls
Charli:
Are you alive?
Harper:
Wow. So much tequila, Jess. I should probably be impressed.
Kat:
I am impressed.
Charli:
I’ll be impressed when I hear she’s not dead.
Kat:
Truth.
I stared at the messages before typing back.
Jess:
I’m alive.
The responses came immediately.
Charli:
Thank god. I’ve never seen you so drunk.
Kat:
Like I said, it was impressive.
I groaned.
Jess:
Not impressive. Regretting all my life choices.
Charli:
At least you didn’t cry. I always cry when I drink too much.
Small miracle.
The typing bubble appeared before I could respond.
Kat:
No crying. Just dancing.
Harper:
And flirting.
Kat:
Aggressive flirting.
Harper:
Good thing Preston is such a good sport.
I groaned and dropped the phone back onto the bed.
Perfect.
After a quick shower, which at least helped me feel more human, even if it did nothing for the pounding in my head or the gurgling in my stomach, I dressed for the hike I’d stupidly agreed to before thinking about the consequences of hiking the morning after a big night out.
I tugged on my leggings, boots, and a T-shirt, pulling my hair into some semblance of a knot before shoving a hat and sunglasses on.
With any luck, I’d be able to appear like a somewhat normal version of myself.
The version of me that didn’t dance with another man on the night of my bachelorette party, or wish, even for a split second, that things were different.
The trailhead was already busy when I arrived. Cars filled the gravel parking lot.
The air smelled like damp earth and pine. I took a moment to inhale deeply and let the fresh air attempt to clear the fogginess from my head before I joined the rest of the group.
Their voices floated toward me across the lot, and when I turned, I spotted Preston immediately.
He stood a little apart from the others, talking with Chase.
His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
He looked…fine. Normal. As if I hadn’t just confessed to him that I wished I’d never thrown his flowers away when we were kids.
Or told him how easy he was to be with. As if he hadn’t just put my drunk ass to bed.
Or looked at me like I was someone worth taking care of.
Maybe I’d read it wrong. Maybe none of that meant anything to him.
It probably didn’t. After all, the ramblings of a drunk girl were just that…ramblings.
I’d just pretend that I didn’t remember anything.
Easy.
Safe.
I sucked in a deep breath and braced myself as I grabbed my pack and joined the group.
When his gaze flicked up and landed on me, something in his expression tightened, but only for the flash of a second, before he smiled. “Morning. I wasn’t sure we were going to see you today.”
“Why not?” I worked to keep the smile on my face. “When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”
Was it my imagination, or did he flinch?
“I heard it was quite the party last night,” Tilley said, joining us with an enthusiastic grin and an ear keen to hear more gossip.
“Right, well…”
“We should get going then.” Preston saved me by taking charge of the situation, and that was the end of it.
There was no teasing. No joking. No acknowledgment of the fact that he’d taken care of me when I couldn’t even take care of myself.
The group started to move, boots crunching over gravel as we headed into the trees.
The trail we’d chosen for our second hike was slightly farther out of town, and although the access wouldn’t be compromised by the proposed development, the second phase of the project would end up encroaching on the space right up to the ridge, with the estate lots that were planned for larger homes.
Big lots.
Big views.
Big money.
No affordable housing on the ridge.
I watched Preston take the lead as the group stretched out along the trail, his stride steady and purposeful. He didn’t look back, and I was grateful for that more than I cared to admit.
It was better this way.
Last night was messy enough. I didn’t need any more uncomfortable conversations in the daylight. Especially when that daylight was burning holes through my retinas. Even with the dark sunglasses in place.
I adjusted my pack, focused on the trail, and put one foot in front of the other. The sound of the gravel and pine needles crunching under my steps helped ground me.
Last night didn’t need to mean anything.
People said things all the time when they were drunk. Emotional things and things they didn’t really mean.
At least I hadn’t cried.
All I had to do was pretend that that’s all it was. It didn’t have to be deeper than a night cutting loose with too much to drink.
As I followed the group farther into the trees, I doubled down on my decision.
I wouldn’t bring it up. I wouldn’t ask him about it.
And I certainly wouldn’t let myself wonder what he’d heard in my words. Because pretending not to remember felt a whole lot safer than the alternative.
Preston
The fresh air of the outdoors and the feel of my boots on dirt never failed to relax me and ground me in the moment.
Usually.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d put myself at the front of the pack, following just behind Mason, who led with the excitement and energy of youth. Summit bounded behind the kid, eager to be on another hike.
Jess was all the way at the back behind Chase, Tilley, and Becky, but she still felt too close.
I forced myself not to check on her. I didn’t need to draw any more attention to the hangover she was very obviously trying to ignore.
Tilley was already chomping at the bit for a nugget of gossip she could run with.
I wasn’t about to feed anything more to her.
Especially if it involved me in any way.
Jess had her cap pulled low, her sunglasses firmly in place as if she were trying to disappear. She moved carefully, deliberate with each step to avoid tripping. I’d seen it before on plenty of hangover hikers over the years. It was more common than one might think.
But what I couldn’t figure out was whether she remembered what she’d said to me or whether she had any memory of our dance, or of me taking her home.
I did.
Every single second of it. Every word she’d said to me replayed on a loop in my head. Her apology about the flowers. Her admission that she didn’t love him. That I was easier. That daisies were her favorite.
Drunk or not, those weren’t the kind of words you said if you felt nothing.
The way she felt in my arms when we danced. Her bare skin under my hands.
The way her voice had softened, and her lips curled into a smile when she said my name.
But she’d been drunk.
I needed to remember that, because it mattered.
And she was still getting married.
To someone else. To a future I had no right to touch.
And that really mattered.
No matter how much I was starting to wish it didn’t.
The trail narrowed as we moved farther into the forest, the trees closing in around us.
In front of me, Mason surged ahead. The kid had really come out of his shell since joining my group.
“Mom,” he called over his shoulder. “There’s a good spot up here. I can show you that food hang we practiced.”
Summit let out a bark of excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Every youth I helped build a love for the great outdoors was a win in my books.
Becky smiled and hurried to catch up to her son. Chase followed behind them, curious about the hang. I slowed my pace enough that Tilley fell into step beside me for a moment.
“Does your family still have that little cabin out here?” she asked, surprising me.
“We do. I’m the only one who ever really goes that far out these days, but it’s there.”