Jesse
The heat of the mid-August sun is oppressive, its rays setting off a glare as they reflect off my back windshield.
I flip up the tailgate, sealing it shut.
Today was our final day on the site, and with all renovations complete, the last of the supplies have been packed up.
I’m proud of the work my team and I have accomplished this summer.
Marissa’s house looks great, and I know she’s happy with the results.
But the satisfaction I normally feel after finishing a job, especially one where the client is so satisfied with our work, is notably absent.
I would have happily sacrificed the next six months of jobs if it meant I could have spent them here with her.
She’s only here for another week before she heads back to LA, and I can already feel the loss deep in my core.
We haven’t talked about what comes next. Maybe that’s what hurts the most: the misguided hope of it all. The thought that somehow, however unlikely, this could all still work out, even though she’s never told me that’s what she wants.
I get into the front seat of the truck and sit there for a moment, steadying myself before I drive.
Marissa isn’t home; she took the kids down to the beach for the afternoon.
I promised to meet her after I finished packing up the rest of the tools and stopped home for a quick shower.
I need to talk to her this afternoon, figure out exactly what’s going on between us so I can put myself out of my own fucking misery.
Resolved, I throw the gearshift into reverse. But before I can back out, a slick black BMW pulls into the driveway, blocking me in. What kind of an asshole …
Instinctively, I already know exactly which type of an asshole. It’s a different model than the car he rented last time but it still reeks of entitlement and misplaced bravado.
The car door opens, and Rocky’s greasy head emerges.
With a groan, I throw open my door and step out into the driveway.
Rocky saunters toward me. He’s wearing his usual all-black outfit and looks completely out of place for a visit to the Appalachian Mountains.
I wonder if it’s by design. If he’s determined to send a message that he’s not like the rest of us rural trash. That he is, after all, A Celebrity.
“You need to move your car.” I don’t bother with pleasantries.
Rocky lowers his douchebag shades, his gaze roving over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. Then one corner of his mouth rises in amusement.
“Carpenter! You’re still here.”
Yes, I’m still here. Unlike him, I’d never leave Marissa unless she told me to.
A slow heat courses through my veins as the implication of his words unfurls.
Is he suggesting that he didn’t expect her to keep me around?
That it’s so unfathomable that she would have fallen for someone like me?
My hands instinctively clench into fists, and I take a deep breath.
I cannot punch this man. The last thing I need right now is to spend the night in jail.
“Just finished today. Now, if you don’t mind.” I gesture to his car.
He gives me a thumbs-up. A fucking thumbs-up.
“Can’t wait to see the finished product. Marissa said you did great work on our house.”
“Marissa’s house,” I correct him. This presumptuous dick. Still, unease swims through me as I consider the underlying subtext. Why is she even talking to him about the house? And why does he think it’s his?
Rocky’s eyes light up and I realize I’ve walked right into it, given him the exact reaction he wanted.
“Sorry,” he says, though it’s clear he’s anything but. His lips curl into a serpentine smile. “Old habits die hard. Sometimes I forget Rissa and I aren’t together anymore. Just feels so natural, you know?”
Fuck it. I’ve known the sheriff since elementary school, and he owes me a favor after we gave him a deal on his bathroom remodel. I take a step forward and Rocky takes two stumbling steps backward, likely realizing he’s overplayed his hand.
“Let me just bring my stuff into the house,” he says. “And I’ll be out of your way.”
“She isn’t here,” I say. “They’re at the beach.” I take another step forward, forcing him to look up to meet my eyes as a reminder that I have a good four inches on him.
His eyes widen and I throw out the last tool in my arsenal. “Don’t you need to be getting home to your fiancée?”
I’m expecting the comment to be a firm reminder that he and Marissa have both moved on and this is no longer his turf. It backfires when he breaks into a smile, showcasing two rows of teeth that are too perfect to be real.
“Afraid that little fling has come to an end,” he says. “But things are as they should be. Marissa and I are about to do a movie together and she’ll come to her senses and realize that she belongs with me. We’re a family, after all. We always will be. And families belong together.”
I feel like I’m falling backward off the top of a Ferris wheel.
My biggest fear has come to fruition. There’s a chance that Marissa and Rocky will get together?
Her words ring back in my ear. After what went down with my parents, I never wanted my own kids to have a broken home.
Marissa said she had regrets about the way things ended with her ex.
If given the opportunity, of course she’d do anything to keep her family together.
I never saw this coming, though. So, I just stand there, too dumbstruck to form a response.
Rocky smirks as he slides his stupid sunglasses back on, clearly satisfied that he’s delivered the winning blow.
“On second thought,” he says, “I’ll just get some gas and then give Rissa a call.
I’m sure she’s going to need some help getting things packed up before everyone comes home.
And since your work here is done, I assume your services are no longer needed.
” With that, he slides back into his rental, pulling out onto the street and finally disappearing from sight.
I’m not sure how long I stand in the driveway before getting numbly back into my front seat. I’m such a complete idiot. I should have seen this situation clearly from the get-go. I’m not part of her world: I’m just an interloper. I always have been.
Things must be really bad, because I find myself calling Shelby.
“What’s up?” she asks when she answers. “Did you have any trouble packing up?”
“Everything was fine,” I reply. “Until Marissa’s douchebag ex showed up.”
“Shit,” she breathes. “Rocky’s there again?”
“Yeah.” I pause before saying the next part out loud. “Is it true that he ended things with the fiancée?”
Shelby doesn’t say anything for so long that I’m worried I’ve lost her.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” she says. “They haven’t announced the breakup yet but the press is speculating. Apparently they haven’t been seen together since the Cabo trip. I asked Marissa but she was cagey about it.”
“Well, Rocky seems to be under the impression that he and Marissa are getting back together.”
Shelby scoffs. “Please. Marissa would never go back to Rocky. And if you haven’t noticed, she’s wild about you.” I don’t say anything in response, my head already spinning with a million conflicting thoughts.
“Jess, you don’t actually think—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“I gotta go,” I say quickly. “I’ll see you on Sunday.” She’s still talking when I disconnect the call.
I collapse against the headrest, too shaken up to drive. God, I am such an idiot. I can’t believe my own naivete; after everything I’ve been through, how did I not see this coming?
This is Amber all over again. My lot in life.
I’m no one’s first choice, not the guy people will give it all up for.
If there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that long-distance relationships do not work.
They never have and never will. I only have myself to blame for thinking my relationship with her would be some sort of magical exception.
That my feelings for her would somehow trump the rules and logic of reality.
Besides, Rocky was right: He and Marissa and those kids are a family.
What kind of person would I be if I tried to break up a family?
I know firsthand how hard it is to put back the pieces after a family has fallen apart.
I can’t stand the guy, but at least Rocky is trying.
That’s more than I can say for my own mother.
I care about Marissa enough to do anything for her. She deserves all the happiness in the world. And if there’s a chance for her to have that do-over and put her family back together, then the best thing I can do is get out of her way.
My phone vibrates on the passenger seat. Glancing over, I see Marissa’s name on the screen. She’s probably calling to ask where I am. I let it ring, staring at it until the screen notifies me that I have a missed call. Then I back out of the driveway.