Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Jo Jo plops a strawberry into her mouth and talks with her mouthful. “You could just cancel. I support you cancelling,” she says.
Sighing, I smooth my hands over the duvet again and reach for the bowl of fruit on the bed tray. Jake served me breakfast in bed this morning, but Jo Jo and I had a sleepover last night so we’re both enjoying breakfast in bed.
“I can’t cancel. I promised I’d go at least once and they’re coming here so I have to reward their efforts with at least one session.” Jo Jo fills my mug with coffee from the French press, and snags another berry. “Thanks for hanging out with me last night. I had fun. It took my mind off of things.” I smile.
Today is my first therapy appointment with my parents. I’ve been a nervous wreck since we planned this a month ago. That was the first time I decided to answer their calls, and on that call I said if they wanted to have any sort of relationship with me, it had to be meaningful, and if it were to be meaningful, we needed therapy. I don’t want to rehash things and talk about all the pain they’ve caused. I think I’d rather get a pap smear in front of a priest. I’m doing it because I said I would.
Jo Jo told me she wanted to have a slumber party to take my mind off of it. Jake had plans for me, too, but I couldn’t say no to girl time with my girl. When I told him that Jo Jo wanted to do a girls night, he told me he could wait—that Jo Jo and I bonding is as important to him as the two of us.
We wore face masks, watched The Wedding Planner, baked cookies and painted each other's toenails, all before falling asleep under the soft glow of Friday Night Lights reruns.
It was a good night.
Different from the nights I would have with Jake, but good in so many other ways.
My phone rings, and I snatch it off the nightstand to answer. Jo Jo grabs her phone and scrolls while I talk.
“You ready for it?” Leah asks, yawning into the phone.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. How are you?” I ask her. In the last month, Leah has begun seeing someone but she won’t tell me who. I try not to press too much, but I’m absolutely dying to know .
“Exhausted. One of my smoke alarms went off at two in the morning, and I couldn’t figure out which one so I ended up beating all of them with a broom handle.” She yawns again. “Handyman is here now, repairing them.”
“Oh,” I draw out, coy as ever. “So your boyfriend wasn’t there to help?”
“No sleepovers yet. I’m old. Sleepovers mean forever in my book, you know that,” she says before launching into a speech of advice on how to handle my parents today. I listen, but in the back of my mind, I circle on her words. Sleepovers mean forever.
I’ve been living with Jo Jo and Jake for the last three months. I never spent another night in my home in Bluebell after Michael attacked me at the school that day. In fact, I rented it out to someone else already.
I live here, there’s no doubt. But this guest room isn’t where I should be living. It’s not where my heart is. And now that Jo Jo and I have had our sleepover, it feels like the right time to make the move to Jake’s room. We wanted time for Jo Jo to grow comfortable with the idea.
“Sounds good, Leah,” I tell her, because the advice, despite the fact I was only halfway listening, was good—of what I heard, of course. “I’ll call you after to let you know how it went.”
“Good luck!” she offers before hanging up.
Jo Jo sets her phone down. “It’s so weird that you’re like, friends with the principal.”
“Why? She’s just a person like me and you. She wants friends, she wants to laugh, she likes talking on the phone.” I sip my coffee and moan at the perfection of the roast and the impending relief from the brew. “God this is good.”
“I know she’s a person,” Jo Jo smirks. “It’s just… she’s li ke, the principal.” She glances down at her phone then back up to me. “Does she like that job?”
I volley my head, considering the question. “She likes it. Any job has its downsides, but overall she likes it. Why?”
Her cheeks flush as she picks lint off the comforter. “I don’t know. I think it seems like it could be a cool job.”
“Yeah?” I ask, surprise in my tone, but excitement too. Jake was worried that Jo Jo wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, and not in the sense that he wanted her to have a plan but moreso, wanted her to find her passion. “You know, if you wanted to, I could probably arrange a little meeting. You could ask Ms. Mitchell all the questions you’d like.”
She lifts a shoulder and drops it. “Yeah, maybe.”
There’s a knock on the door and Jake is in the doorway, making me feel things I ought not feel with Jo Jo next to me. With his hat, flannel and dirty jeans on, boots too, he grips the doorframe, grinning at us. He even tips that hat, exposing his tousled dark hair. My eyes move to the triangle of tanned skin peeking out from his royal and black tartan flannel. I think of two nights ago, when he gave me twenty lashes with his belt—which I crawled to him and begged for, by the way.
“Morning again ladies,” he says. “Hate to break up the fun but if you’re both trying to get showered before we go, there’s not much time.”
They’re dropping me off at therapy and heading to the farmer’s market to work the Turner Saddlery booth together. Jo Jo’s been working the booth with both of us for the last few weeks. It’s been so nice.
And today is extra special because Jake has been working on a custom saddle for Jo Jo since the start of the school year. He gets her a graduation gift after every grade, and when he explained the tradition to me then showed me the saddle, I cried. I cried for the beauty of the saddle and the breathtaking craftsmanship, I cried for what it symbolized between father and daughter, but mostly, I cried because it’s going to be such a special moment for them, it makes my chest explode just thinking about it.
I stick out my bottom lip in a pout. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”
He saunters in, smelling too damn good for ten after seven on a Saturday morning. And looking too damn good, too. He kisses Jo Jo’s head, then mine. “We’ll have dinner out back tonight together then we’ll tell you all about the market and you can tell us what you want about therapy.” He tugs the covers back after lifting the near-empty breakfast tray off the bed. “Now get up and get going. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not late.”
“Hi,” I say quietly, leaning over the desk. “I’m Riley Rivers, I’m here for the 8:30 appointment.”
The woman behind the desk smiles. “Lovely. I’ll get you checked in and you can just have a seat in the waiting area. Your other party members haven’t arrived yet.” She sticks her hand out, motioning to the waiting room where a woman sits, her face covered by the magazine she’s reading.
“Thanks,” I say, quietly slipping into a seat.
A woman exiting the restroom turns my way and holy shit.
“Cadence?”
After that day in the gym, Cadence stopped with her dirty looks and shitty comments. I figured she only stopped because it would look bad to pick on the new lady whose ex- boyfriend held her captive in an office for an hour. Truthfully, she stopped and that’s where my thoughts about Cadence ended.
She smiles awkwardly, looking around the empty office once before coming to sit one seat away from me.
“Hi.” She looks me up and down as if hunting for an obvious symptom. “You… see Dr. Tanner, too?”
“Yeah,” I reply, bobbing my head. “I’m a serial killer and I’m really hoping to stop.”
Cadence smiles. “Oh yeah? I’m here to try and stop smoking.”
I blink. “You don’t smoke.”
Cadence smirks. “And something tells me you’re not a serial killer.”
I let out a sigh. “I’m meeting my parents. We’re doing some family therapy in an attempt to communicate better. And, if that goes well, maybe we will tackle some of our other issues.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I notice she’s in a sweat suit, and not a cute Juicy Couture one but like, an actual cuffed ankle sweat suit. “Don’t,” she says on an exhale. “I look like shit.”
I shake my head. “You really don’t. I’ve just never seen you so casual.”
“It’s the weekend,” she says, “I couldn’t stand the idea of pouring myself into a skirt and heels on a Saturday morning.”
I waggle my brows. “Why do you think I like wearing polos and jeans? Heels are overrated.” I lean in. “But your calves are phenomenal, so maybe it is worth it?”
She laughs, but it’s mostly awkward, as with most things Cadence Caine. Finally she turns to me, gripping the armrest of the vinyl covered chair, her eyes penitent .
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. For whatever it’s worth, you’re right. I’m not a good coach and you definitely deserved the JV job.”
I don’t try to talk her down because, as uncomfortable as it is to sit with the truth, it’s far worse to sit with a lie. “Thanks,” I say, acknowledging her apology. I don’t have much else to say, but she apologized, and I value her for that.
“I was outside the office that day,” she blurts out. “I heard and– anyway, I waited outside the office until Jolene Turner’s dad came.” Her cheeks flame as she looks down at her fingernails a moment then back up to me. “I was with a guy like that once. I’m glad you’re with Jo Jo’s dad. You two seem really happy.”
“I didn’t know that,” I tell her, skipping over everything about Jake. An apology doesn’t mean she needs details of my life, but I had no idea Cadence waited until help came.
She nods. “I just… I couldn’t leave, not with you in there crying. I was so scared for you, Riley,” she admits, her eyes growing wet. She adjusts her necklace, then smooths her hands down her ponytail. I get the impression she’s not used to being this way—vulnerable and honest, but her face is soft and her body is relaxed—it looks much better on her than bitchy does.
“That means a lot. Thanks. I mean, I didn’t know but, thank you.” The door opens, breaking our moment, but starting a whole new moment. One I’ve been dreading.
I get to my feet. “Hi mom, hi dad.”
“Jake’s pulling up, so I gotta go. How come you’re not at the market?” I ask Leah, who I promised a post-therapy summary. I get to my feet from the curb behind the office, where I’d been waiting alone. My parents offered to give me a ride out to the market, but I’m not looking to merge worlds. Not today. Not anytime soon, if ever.
“I’m… having lunch with someone today,” she draws out. “A new someone.”
“Leah Mitchell! You didn’t tell me you have a date!” I blurt out, just as Jake’s truck comes into view. “And you never told me you dumped the last guy!”
“Story for another day about him. But this time, when there’s something good to tell, I’ll tell you. Anyway, I’m proud of you for going today. You didn’t have to, but you went. You are perpetually the bigger person.”
I tip my chin up triumphantly. “I really am.”
“I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See ya,” I say, ending the call just as Jake idles at the curb, the large rim of his hat shading a portion of his face as he rolls down the window and winks. My insides turn into a flurried mess.
He jumps out, coming around the front of the truck to catch me in his arms, holding me tight. “I missed you,” he whispers, his words hot against my ear, dripping down the collar of my shirt. Holding the door open, Jake helps me in, then joins me, slipping behind the steering wheel a moment later.
“You look gorgeous,” he says, reaching for my hand to hold. I don’t know if it’s his extra years on me or if it’s just who Jake is, but I love that he opened with a compliment instead of peppering me with questions. Almost like he knew what I’d need to hear first—love, not inquisition.
“Thank you. How’d it go with the saddle? How’s the booth today?” I ask, enjoying the beautiful day as I roll down the window and let my arm swim through the wind as we drive.
“She loved it. Wants to start riding–all three of us, as soon as the season is over.” He leans over and kisses me just then, before retreating back to his side, like he had to seal the good news with a small celebration. I love that I am his celebration. “The rest? Great. Jo Jo stayed back to watch over things while I came and got you. We’re about to pack up pretty soon but I thought you’d like to come for the last hour. Maybe grab some things for tonight.” He splits his focus between the road and me. "Dorothea's got some whiskey-flavored fudge and Hudson has his root beer milk again.”
I waggle my brows. “Oh, I like that.” I squeeze his hand, garnering an extra glance my way. “Jake, I feel ready to move into your room. I was hoping tonight we could talk to Jo Jo, and see if she’s ready.”
Hat tipped slightly forward, dark eyes glued to the horizon, steering wheel in his grip, Jake groans, and I feel it between my legs. “Goddamn, am I happy to hear you say that,” he says, then tugs at the crotch of his fitted, filthy jeans, the ones that make me wet just seeing him in them. “Made me a little hard.” He winks.
I slide across the empty seat between us and place my hand on his crotch. “Nothing about this is little.”
He laughs, and drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Just the idea of waking up every day with you in my arms. Hell, not to mention holding you while we fall asleep.” He shakes his head, and with my free hand I reach up and tug at the loose curls near his neck.
“You’re a kinky romantic,” I tease him, leaning in to press a kiss to the pulse in his throat.
“What are you doing to me, baby? I’m trying to drive us back to the market. I can’t get out the truck like this,” he says as I trace his erection through his jeans using just the tip of my fingers.
I find his zipper and tug it down, then reach in to find my favorite thing. Protruding through his open pants, I tug Jake’s cock toward me, wrapping my lips around the head. The truck jumps a little as Jake navigates down a back country road, and the scent of lavender and fresh pine moves through the cab. The temperature outside is perfect, the slow rumble of the truck beneath my body as I lean over my man’s lap and suck him feels good. He tangles his fingers in the top of my head, raspy praises falling from his lips, lifted by the wind.
“Fuck, your mouth is so sweet, baby.”
One hand on the wheel, he reaches down my pants and grabs the top part of my ass just as his cum splashes against the back of my throat. I can’t take his entire cock down my throat the way I want to, and just the idea of it—being able to handle him, to give him that pleasure–-it gets me hot. But he’s hung and for now, my hands work on the length I can’t suck. I keep pumping as he throbs on my tongue, giving me everything he couldn’t give me this morning, or last night.
I swallow him down, because I always swallow when he comes in my mouth. I slide back to my spot in the truck, and he zips up.
“Are you good to go back now?” I tease, dragging the tip of my tongue over my top lip, trying to seduce him even more.
He takes his hat off, shoving it on the dash, fishing a hand through his wavy hair. The same hair I held last week when he snuck into my room and ate me out before sunrise. “Well damn, baby, that was something else .”
I reach for his hand again, just as he turns down the long road leading to Hudson’s. “Therapy was okay. I’m glad I went. But I don’t know if it’s going to lead to reconciliation, and I don’t feel like chasing that right now.”
Jake kisses my hand. “I appreciate your sharing.”
We ride the last few minutes in peaceful silence, and spend another hour at the market with Jo Jo. While we’re cleaning up the table, Jake asks her if she’d be okay with me officially moving into his room, and her response?
“It’s about time.”