Chapter 14 Jake
JAKE
Ilower myself into the hot tub, barely holding back a groan at how good it feels. After this morning’s run, and a day spent pacing my office, my muscles are in ecstasy in the simmering water.
Steam lifts from the surface and Margo is nowhere to be seen. As a matter of fact, there are no lights on in any of the cabins. Everyone must be in the lodge for the group activities.
I didn’t really think people were into that kind of stuff anymore, but Dylan was really happy to have something fun to do, and even the older couple looked like they were totally charmed by the whole thing.
The influencer girl and her cameraman were there too, like they thought something post-worthy might happen in that tired lobby.
I’m not much of a holiday guy, but the view out here is pretty. Someone has strung those twinkly Christmas lights all around the pavilion and even in the trees on the edge of the woods.
Speaking of pretty… where’s Maddie?
I heard a little shuffling around coming from the direction of the ladies’ changing room before, but now I’m alone and it’s silent again. Hopefully she found the stuff they left for her.
I glance down at the suit they provided for me. They got the fit just about perfect, except that my arms are practically bursting out of the sleeves of the rash guard.
I was sort of surprised that they even included a shirt. It’s not like we’ll be doing any surfing and I’m certainly not worried about getting too much sun. It’s just a nighttime soak in a hot tub.
But I put it on anyway, figuring that covering up a little might make Maddie feel more comfortable after our conversation this morning.
A twinge of guilt has me wincing at the thought of it.
I’m not proud to admit to myself that it’s more than just shame at the fact that I made her feel uncomfortable.
It’s the knowledge that I am attracted to her, and that deep down I’m starting to feel like my feelings might go beyond just simple attraction.
The door to the women’s changing room opens and Maddie comes out, obliterating all my other thoughts.
If I thought I was going to catch a glimpse of her charms, I was wrong. She’s bundled up like a mummy in what looks like at least three towels that cover her from head to toe.
And the look on her face… I always thought it was just a cliche to say that someone looked like a deer in headlights, but right now Maddie looks like she might just bolt into the woods if I startle her.
Is she shy about her body?
I want to make her feel better by looking away. I really do.
But my eyes are glued to this scene. It’s not even about attraction. It’s just that the sight of her inching toward the hot tub, her mind clearly working overtime to figure out how to get in with all her towels is just too funny.
She manages to shimmy up the little steps with the towels still in place. But as she’s lowering herself into the water, the breeze picks up and her towel-skirt lifts.
Without thinking, she lets go of everything else to hold it down.
Of course, all three towels fall right into the water, which weighs them down so that she’s just holding about two inches of them against her knees and leaving the rest of her exposed.
And it becomes immediately obvious why she was feeling shy.
I was given a suit that could double as a cycling uniform.
Poor Maddie has the equivalent of a single handkerchief of fabric divided into three tiny triangles and held on by dental floss. She’s as gorgeous as any of the women in the swimsuit editions of those sports magazines that used to blow my mind when I was a kid.
But she’s a thousand times more beautiful because along with all the usual ingredients of a man’s wildest dreams, she’s wearing an expression of vulnerability.
That only lasts half a heartbeat though. The next thing I know she’s sunk down in the water up to her nose, and I can’t see her body or her expression.
She blinks at me once from her submerged position like a frog or a turtle coming up for air, and suddenly something is bubbling up in my chest that I can’t hold back.
I roar with laughter that echoes off the tiles of the pavilion, feeling younger than I have in years.
When was the last time I really laughed?
But as I wipe tears from the corners of my eyes, I can see that she’s glaring at me, which is fair enough. She didn’t ask for that suit.
Without thinking about it, I peel off my rash guard and throw it to her.
She grabs it out of the air and pulls it on in a huff.
“Sorry,” I say, grabbing her wet towels and squeezing them out before throwing them to the floor. “But that was pretty funny.”
“Why did they give me such a skimpy bathing suit?” she wonders out loud. She looks decidedly less unhappy now that she’s covered up.
In my rash guard…
It’s funny how it gives me a surge to see her in my clothes. Especially since that shirt was only mine for about two minutes.
“They probably thought you’d want to strut your stuff,” I suggest mildly.
She rolls her eyes and settles into the water, and after a minute of soaking she starts to look like she’s finally appreciating it.
“This is nice,” she says with her eyes closed.
“Dylan wore you out, huh?” I ask.
“Never,” she says immediately, and I love how she always has his back. “But I did wear myself out having fun with him.”
“How’s he doing?” I hear myself ask.
I normally wouldn’t ask a question that leaves me this vulnerable. But there’s something about knowing how much she likes him that tells me she won’t judge either of us.
And it’s so private out here with nothing but the pine trees and the Christmas lights. It’s not lost on me that this whole setup could be viewed as pretty romantic, but I’m doing my best not to think about it.
“He’s a happy kid,” she tells me thoughtfully. “He’s been more confident about his writing lately too. It still seems to be a bit of a struggle. But he really doesn’t mind putting in the work.”
“Do you think he might have a learning disability?” I ask.
It’s a subject his teacher has danced around, and one I’m surprised to hear myself bring up.
“Would it matter to you if he did?” she asks.
I turn my gaze to her and she’s looking at me with real curiosity.
“No,” I admit softly. “It wouldn’t matter at all.”
When the school brought up the idea of testing it made me defensive and dismissive. But talking about it with someone who really cares about my son feels like a lifeline.
“I don’t know much about it,” she says. “But my best friend in high school had dyslexia. The way she talked about the stuff she struggled with, it seems like maybe the same kind of things are giving Dylan extra trouble.”
“How did she handle it?” I ask.
“At school I’m not sure what all they did,” Maddie says. “But her mom used to read with her a lot when she was little, and practice writing with her.”
So basically all the stuff Maddie is already doing with Dylan.
“I’m so glad you’re helping him,” I tell her.
She lights up and her eyes meet mine again.
I notice the exact moment when her gaze slides down a little to take in my arms and chest.
She looks away fast, but not before I catch her awed expression.
It’s hard not to smile at the idea that maybe she likes what she sees. I try hard to stay in shape for my health. I’m basically all Dylan has, and I fully intend to live forever, if possible.
But it’s gratifying to think that a woman who isn’t chasing my money thinks I’m good-looking.
Stop thinking about it, you idiot. You’re having a nice moment here, and you’re going to ruin it. Again.
“Is there anything else you think he could use?” I ask. “We don’t have much at the house.”
“Well, it would be great to go back to the village one of these days and get him a library card,” Maddie says right away. “I think he would love that.”
Right. We’ve got a big stack of books from home, but he might be getting bored with them by now.
“Done,” I tell her.
“And you’re right, the house is a little empty,” she concedes. “He loves all the Christmas stuff in the books we’ve been reading. A few Christmas things would make the place feel cozier. But it’s not like you’re going to furnish a rental just for ambiance.”
She laughs, but I don’t. My mind is already working.
“Anyway, he’s really excited about Christmas,” she continues. “Will this be his first Christmas without his mother?”
There’s a moment of silence after her question. It’s not something I’m eager to talk about. And I’m sure she already knows all about it from the online gossip anyway.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about her.”
Her questions seem genuine, and I guess there’s no harm in giving her my version of the story. It’s not like I haven’t been over it all a thousand times in my head.
“Until she left us, his mother was home with him,” I tell her carefully. “But she wasn’t really… hands-on.”
Maddie nods, though her expression tells me that she doesn’t understand, and there’s something about that I instantly love.
“Celine spent most of her time shopping or out with friends,” I explain.
“She liked the lifestyle more than the family part of the marriage. There was a parade of nannies that took care of Dylan. She kept firing them. She always had a reason—one was too nosy, one was lazy, one was too bossy, one smelled like soup—but I think she was really just jealous.”
Maddie just frowns like she doesn’t know what to say.
“I mean, I’m sure you had nannies too,” I offer.
“No,” she says like that’s a funny idea, then her face goes blank. “My parents were sort of old-fashioned, I guess. My mom stayed home with me and we liked to keep things sort of… simple.”
“Simple?” I ask. This is news to me.
“Well, some of my favorite memories are here,” she says with a genuine smile. “My parents used to get us carriage rides.”
“This place has carriage rides?” I ask her, amazed.
“Oh, yes,” she tells me. “They keep the horses in that barn in the back. We used to ride them on the trails too. Maybe people still do.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” I ask.
“Well, there weren’t any chalets up there when I was a kid,” she tells me. “It was just woods and trails all the way over to the state park on the other side of the mountain.”
That actually sounds really nice.
“Anyway, I think my favorite childhood Christmas memory is riding in the carriage between my parents,” she tells me with a dreamy smile.
“They give you blankets so you don’t get cold and I always used to fall asleep by the time we got back.
But I’ll never forget the sound of my parents laughing and the bells jingling while I drifted off. ”
Somehow I can picture it perfectly. I can almost hear the bells.
How can I tear this place down when her memories are here?
I have no idea where that thought came from, but it’s a silly idea. I have to tear it down. It’s the first stone in the empire I’m rebuilding.
“What did you do for Christmas?” she asks me. “When you were a kid?”
My childhood memories are another place I don’t really like to go.
“We didn’t have many traditions,” I hear myself tell her honestly. “My mom worked doubles as a waitress to support my dad’s… issues. There wasn’t a lot of time or money to spare.”
I’m pretty sure my dad thought the answer to his issues could be found at the bottom of a cheap bottle of whiskey. He certainly spent plenty of time searching there.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me softly. It sounds like she means it.
“It was motivation,” I tell her, something I’ve said a million times in interviews when a reporter had the audacity to dig into my childhood and question me about it. “I knew I didn’t want to wind up in that same unhappy hole.”
The words ring empty now though.
I might not be in a hole, but I’m not exactly happy either.
I guess for a while I was able to fool myself into thinking that success and money had bought me love and security. Until they didn’t anymore.
“It still sucks,” Maddie says decisively.
Now I’m smiling. What is it about this girl? She sees through everything I say. And she seems to like me anyway.
“Yeah,” I agree. “It does.”
We relax in the water in friendly silence for a little while longer, and finally she turns to me.
“This is really nice, but do you think we should go see how Dylan’s doing?” she asks.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I say, gesturing to the steps. “After you.”
She scowls at me and I can’t help smiling.
“I’m kidding,” I tell her, winking at her before I get out myself and go to grab her a towel.
“Just one this time,” I tell her, holding it out. “Using all those towels is bad for the environment.”
She laughs and stands to take it, wrapping it neatly around herself before I can get another glimpse.
I head back to change and when I come out she’s already dressed and waiting for me. We make our way back to the lodge and bump into Margo the moment we reach the lobby. She’s carrying a tray of champagne and strawberries, and wearing a frown as soon as she spots us.
“You didn’t even have your champagne,” she scolds Maddie.
“It’s okay,” Maddie tells her. “We had a nice time. Why don’t you give it to the Applebaums? It’s their anniversary.”
She nods to the elderly couple who are curled up on the loveseat, watching the kids put away supplies from what must have been an art project.
Margo nods once and heads over to the couple.
“That was really nice of you,” I tell Maddie.
“Oh,” she says worriedly, her eyes widening. “I hope you didn’t have your heart set on champagne.”
“Not at all,” I tell her. “I’d much rather watch the two of them enjoy it.”
We both look over at the Applebaums. The husband is smiling at Margo so broadly that his eyes are even more crinkled than usual. And Mrs. Applebaum’s eyes are glistening.
Even Margo has a more natural smile as she heads back in our direction. So she’s human after all.
I get another twinge about having to tear down the lodge. But I can’t afford to get sentimental.
“It’s time for our carol sing-along,” Margo announces. “Everyone gather by the fireplace.”
Ugh. I was hoping to slip out before this part.
“Awesome,” Maddie says, heading over immediately.
She stops in her tracks when she realizes I’m not following.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s sing.”
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “You and Dylan have fun.”
“Really?” she asks me, looking almost hurt.
I don’t want to let her down, but I don’t sing, especially not in front of people.
I wave for her to join Dylan, so she heads over and lowers herself to the floor by the sofa beside him.
Margo leads the group into “Deck the Halls.” It’s such a happy song with the young and old voices raised together that I almost want to join in.
But I don’t. I’ve played the fool enough this year.
It doesn’t matter if I don’t do this one thing. The two of them are still having fun. And if I just stay in my corner, there’s no way for me to mess it up.