Chapter 7 #2
“Doing what?” Kate asks as she joins us, her hand resting on her small bump.
“Just chatting!” Mrs. Santiago chuckles. “Don’t mind us. Did you eat something?”
Kate shakes her head, and I decide to switch the conversation away from the food to Kate’s work. She’s recently added a new horse to the stables for her rehabilitation center, and she excitedly tells me all about it as Savannah, Rose, and Becky join our table.
Becky hands me a plate of cake as Mrs. Santiago turns to Rose.
“We heard you moved in with Chase.”
Rose’s cheeks turn pink at the attention from the women, her gaze darting toward the man in question just as he high fives her seven-year-old son.
“Yes. After everything, we decided there’s no sense in pretending. He was spending most of the time in the cottage anyway, and it’s not like Kyle didn’t know about us.”
Mrs. Santiago nods. “You found yourself a good one. And I’m not just saying that because I consider him one of my own.”
“Maybe now he’ll be less grumpy,” Becky chuckles, digging into her own cake.
“What about you, Jessica?” Mrs. Fernandez asks. “Still dating that boy? What was his name? David?”
I wince at the question. Is it bad to wish the ground would open and swallow me whole? “Damien. And no.”
“Oh, she broke up with him the other day,” Becky snorts.
“About damn time if you ask me. The guy is a douche of epic proportions. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him calling you.
He isn’t one to take no for an answer.” Her expression darkens.
“The next time he comes to the Reading Nook, I’m giving him the boot. ”
I wince inwardly.
So much for hoping she didn’t hear about that little tidbit.
I guess now’s not the time to tell her that the only reason he isn’t calling me is because I blocked his number.
“Why?” Mrs. Santiago glances from Becky to me. “What happened?”
“It’s noth—”
“He cornered her in the café, wanting to ‘talk.’” Becky uses air quotes and rolls her eyes. “As if she wasn’t clear enough when she dumped his ass.”
“Is he really that insistent?” Mrs. Santiago gives me a worried look. “With everything that’s happened recently…”
Her gaze darts to Rose, who nods somberly, before their focus shifts to me.
“Oh, no, I don’t think that’s going to be the case.”
“You know, if he gives you a lot of trouble, I can tell Miguel to have a talk with him,” Becky offers.
I shake my head immediately. Bringing more attention to my failed relationship is the last thing I need or want right now. And knowing Damien, that would only piss him off more.
“I have it under control, but thank you.” I finish the rest of my drink and push to my feet. “I’m going to grab a refill.”
God knows I need it.
“Oh, let me…” Becky starts to get up, but I wave her off.
“I can do it.”
Slipping from my chair, I make my way into the house.
The loud chatter from outside is just a dull noise in here.
I let out a long breath as I make my way to the fridge.
The cold air blasts into my face, cooling off my warm cheeks as I scan the contents before settling on a bottle of soda.
There are different bottles of alcohol on the counter.
I find the one I want before pouring some vodka into my glass and adding soda.
“Still a shitty choice of alcohol, I see.”
The softly spoken words make me go stiff as I feel his probing gaze burning at the back of my head.
Slowly, I place the bottle on the counter and force myself to relax my fingers before I turn to face him.
Matthew is leaning against the doorjamb, his dark eyes zeroed in on me, watching me intently. The need to get the hell out of here is overwhelming, but I swallow it down and lean against the counter, returning his gaze head-on.
He slowly lifts his hand, taking a sip of his beer. The motion makes the hem of his shirt rise slightly. I’m not sure when he found a new shirt, but thank God he did. Although, there’s no erasing the image of him shirtless from my mind.
His hair is unruly, brown locks curling at his nape. A dark shadow is cast over his square jaw, accentuating the little scar from where he fell off his bike.
“Says the man who drinks beer.”
“Fernandez has some good stuff.”
I roll my eyes. “There is no universe in which any kind of beer can be considered ‘good stuff.’”
Grabbing my drink, I push from the counter and go for the door, but before I can sneak past him, Matthew steps into my path. “We should talk.”
My stomach tightens, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “There is nothing to talk about. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Once again, I try to walk around him, and once again, he’s in front of me.
“Trouble…”
“Don’t call me that,” I bite out, my gaze meeting his as I shove his hand away.
What is it with all these men suddenly wanting to talk to me?
Matthew’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t try to touch me again. “What am I supposed to call you, then?”
“Nothing. You didn’t have a problem not calling me anything for the last four years, so I don’t see why that should change now.”
The moment the words are out, I regret saying them. They give away too much, reveal things that are better left buried, but there is no taking them back now.
“Fuck.” Matthew runs his fingers through his hair before letting his hand drop. “Seriously, Tro—” I shoot him a death glare that has him biting his tongue. “Fine. Jessica. Is that better?”
I suck in a long breath at the sound of my name coming off his lips. The way it rolls off his tongue like a caress. Low and raspy, making goosebumps prickle my skin.
No, it most definitely isn’t better, but I can’t say that now, can I?
Not when I’m the one who insisted on him not using that damn nickname in the first place.
I don’t even know how he came up with it.
He was the bad boy. The troublemaker. I was the good girl who stuck to the rules.
If anybody was trouble it was him, and yet, that’s the nickname he gave me from the very beginning.
“When did you and Becky become such good friends?” Matthew’s question snaps me out of my thoughts.
I blink, the words taking a moment to resonate in my mind.
Did he seriously think I was that desperate for any form of connection to him that I befriended his sister while he was gone?
“My friendship with Becky has nothing to do with you.”
“As feisty as always, I see.” The corner of his mouth curves upward in a lazy smile. Not in the least bit disturbed by the scowl I’m directing at him. “I didn’t imply it does. I’m just curious.”
“She needed an employee for the café, and I needed a job. Now, if you’re done chitchatting about the… whatever this should be, I’m leaving.”
“We used to be friends, Jessica. Is it so hard to believe I want to catch up?”
Friends.
“Is that what we were?”
Matthew’s brows rise. “Weren’t we?”
Maybe, in a way, I guess. Nothing ever happened between us, after all.
Hell, we didn’t even hang out in front of other people.
If we were together, it was always just the two of us.
Hidden away in the school library. Sitting under the bleachers.
Together at the abandoned playground. And that one time…
I push back the memory of that time. The memory I thought I buried deep down in the back of my mind because it hurt too much to remember.
No, that one word doesn’t seem enough to describe what he was to me his senior year.
For one year, Matthew was the center of my world.
When we were together, my chest felt tight, and the way those dark eyes fixed on me occasionally didn’t make it any easier to breathe.
When our fingers touched, it was as if I’d been zapped by electricity.
It made me feel alive. He made me feel alive.
And then he left—shattering my world and my heart in the process.
“No, Matthew. Because friends don’t use you only to toss you aside.
Friends don’t sneak around, hiding you like their dirty little secret.
And friends most certainly don’t leave without saying goodbye.
So, no, we were not friends. And you coming back won’t change that.
I might still be right where you left me, but I’m not the girl I used to be. ”
My heart is beating wildly against my ribcage as I stare at Matthew’s stoic face, my words still echoing in the air around us. His lips are pressed into a tight line, any trace of amusement gone from his face.
“I didn’t expect you to be… I just—” He shakes his head, his arm lifting, almost as if he wants to touch me. I hold my breath as he murmurs softly, “I guess I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Well, I didn’t expect you to come back either, so I guess that makes the two of us.”
Taking a step back, I walk around him, and this time he doesn’t try to stop me.