Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
I tossed my purse onto the couch and beelined it to the kitchen, deciding today was not the day I was giving up caffeine. I had a mile-long to-do list, and only six hours to check everything off that list.
Maybe I’d try again tomorrow, or next week, or next month when the shock of seeing Jase had worn off.
I set the coffee to brew, wandered back to the couch, and pulled out my cell.
Saturday night, in a moment of weakness fueled by nostalgia, I’d programmed Jase’s number into my phone.
Sunday morning after I’d had time to think about things, I deleted the number. It was a temptation I didn’t need. There was too much water under the bridge. The past was best left in the past.
Sunday afternoon while folding laundry with nothing to keep my mind occupied, it drifted back to Saturday night.
Which was bad, very bad. Thinking about sitting across the table from Jase meant I remembered how much I loved his voice, his hands, the way his brown eyes weren’t really brown, they were more like an expensive cognac—warm and complex with a touch of sweet.
And his hair wasn’t really brown either, it was chestnut—rich and bold with threads of mahogany.
The silvering strewn throughout was new and it only made him look more interesting.
Hotter. Infinitely sexier. Not to mention that salt sprinkled in his well-manicured beard was a whole new level of melt-your-panties-off.
All of that made me remember how much I loved being close to him.
Listening to him talk. How when we were growing up he was the only person I felt comfortable being myself with.
How easy it had been to be his friend, to fall in love, to grow and mature alongside him.
In other words, I’d spent the whole weekend thinking about Jase.
So with all of that (and more) on my mind, after I’d put away my clothes and checked that Lucas had finished his chores, I’d programmed his number back into my phone.
Now I was staring at the device, remembering all the times Jase had made time to call me after he’d left for college. He was a full-time student plus he had a job waiting tables, yet every night no matter how tired he was, he called to check on me and ask about my day.
Then we broke up and he still made time to call.
Then I ghosted him and he still asked me to sit with him Friday night, making time for me, wanting to catch up.
I pulled up his contact info and hit the text icon. Of course I was met with a blank text thread.
Blank.
This was either the best way forward—a blank slate, a new beginning, the start of a new and improved friendship between two mature adults—or this was the worst idea ever and my heart was going to break all over again.
But I needed to apologize.
For the pick-up line incident, for being a cow on Saturday, and for being an immature idiot way back when.
Before I could talk myself out of it, my thumbs started tapping the screen.
Hey Jase, it’s Rainy. I owe you an apology. First, the school thing… I was in shock. There’s no other way to describe it. I wasn’t expecting to see you.
I read what I had so far and deleted most of it.
Hey Jase, it’s Rainy. I owe you an apology.
First, the school thing… you were right, I could’ve and should’ve pulled into a parking space and said hello.
That would’ve been the right thing to do.
I have no defense or excuse for being an ass and driving away.
Which leads me to Saturday. Full disclosure, I was scared as hell to find out you were happily married.
Nope.
I wasn’t ready to be that honest.
Hey Jase, it’s Rainy. I owe you an apology.
First, the school thing… you were right, I could’ve and should’ve pulled into a parking space and said hello.
That would’ve been the right thing to do.
I have no defense or explanation for being an ass and driving way.
Which leads me to Saturday. I could give you a bunch of excuses for closing down on you but that’s all they would be excuses.
I was taken off guard and in shock and lashed out.
I’m truly sorry. You didn’t deserve that.
I read the message, inwardly cringed at my lame attempt to apologize, and deleted all of it.
Hey Jase, it’s Rainy. How’s Colson’s arm?
Before I could overthink my impersonal yet intrusive question I hit send.
The whoosh of the text being sent out into cyberspace or wherever the hell a text zipped off to before it magically appeared on the receiver’s phone went just as three loud raps banged on my front door.
Who the heck banged on someone’s door at eight-oh-five in the morning?
I was staring at it when three more knocks pounded.
“Rainy? Are you home?”
That sounded like Sophie.
I rushed to the door, flung it open, saw I was right, and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sophie jolted but it wasn’t my door swinging open that had her freaked out.
Red rimmed eyes.
Something was wrong.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.”
I stepped to the side to allow her to enter.
“Maybe… let’s sit.”
Alarm bells started blaring in my head.
“Is everything okay?”
“Rainy…” she trailed off and grabbed my hand. “Let’s sit.”
I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to know what the hell was going on.
“Is Josie okay?” I asked as Sophie attempted to pull me to my couch. After everything that had happened at the Hope Center in the last few years, I thought that was a fair question.
“Sophie!”
I didn’t think her flinch meant good tidings.
“Is Valentine—”
“He’s fine,” she cut me off. “It’s…um…Jase.”
Jase?
“What about Jase?”
There was five seconds of silence. I counted. And it was five seconds too long. Especially when the next thing from her mouth was a whispered, “He’s been shot, honey.”
“Shot?” I screeched.
I reached out to balance myself. Unfortunately, there was nothing within reaching distance. I stumbled to the side, hitting the wall. Sophie lunged but I caught myself before I could go down.
“I’m so sorry, I should’ve—”
“Shot? Where? Is he…”
Okay?
Alive?
“He’s at Liberty Regional.”
That was a where, but not the where I was after.
Fear hit me like a sucker punch.
“I’m sorry, Rainy. Valentine called and told me. I thought…well, Saturday night…I thought you’d want to know.”
Saturday night.
What a waste. I’d spent the time sitting with Jase with my shields up and my attitude front and center instead of using those precious minutes to tell him how much I’d missed him. How many times I’d thought about him over the years. How sorry I was for my immature stupidity.
Now it might be too late.
“I have to go,” I told Sophie, already on the move to find my purse and car keys. “Lock up—”
“I’m here to drive you,” she informed me.
Right. Yeah. That was probably a good idea.
“Now,” I demanded. “We have to go now.”
Where the hell was my purse?
Fuck it.
I didn’t need my purse.
“Rainy,” Sophie called out as she grabbed my purse off the couch.
“Do you have a phone? I need to call my mom and ask her to pick up Lucas.”
“Rainy, girl, your phone is in your pocket.”
Shit. Right.
I was so distracted yanking my phone out of my pocket I missed Sophie walking across the room until her hand landed on my shoulder. “Hey.”
I glanced up to find her warm brown eyes full of something I hoped to God wasn’t grief. Did she know more than she was saying?
“How bad is it?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured and slid her arm around my shoulder. “Valentine was in a hurry.” She paused and turned me toward the door. “Let’s get to the hospital.”
My stomach did this funny somersault. A combination of drunk butterflies fluttering about and cramps so bad I couldn’t stand upright.
Humans were funny creatures. I’d gone years without seeing Jase.
I’d spent years attempting to block him from my memory.
But in a split second, all that effort had turned into my biggest regret.
I couldn’t remember a single reason why I’d walked away.
I couldn’t even remember the pain our breakup had caused and how that one decision had spiraled and sent my life down a path that hadn’t included him.
And the last time I saw Jase, I’d practically ignored him—erected a wall between us because I wasn’t ready to face what I’d done.
Had I learned nothing from losing Zoe? Life could end in an instant.
Death didn’t wait for you to wrap up unfinished business—it just took you whether you were ready or not.
There was no asking for more time so you could tell the people you loved what they meant to you.
And the same went for the people being left behind—we didn’t get to hit pause and get a final goodbye—right wrongs, apologize, say all the things we should’ve already said.
Death happened.
It was final.
There was no going back or do-overs.
Once it happened, that was it.
“I need to see him,” I whispered.
My throat constricted, and I prayed I wasn’t too late.