Chapter 8
Kayla
Jake Williams is much more punctual than his brother.
Both he and Ben are waiting in the pool lobby for the rest of the class when we finally arrive at the pool on Monday morning.
This time, I’m the one running behind. I forgot that I didn’t have a car and didn’t account for the walk it would take to get to school, which means I had to line up for the photocopier and was therefore late getting to my classroom to take attendance.
The boys and girls break into their separate change rooms, and Jake and I are rushed into following them without being able to properly greet each other.
By the time I make it out to the pool deck, most of the kids are with their swim instructors, and Jake is settled into the same chairs his brother and I occupied just last week. I grimace, my feet digging into the grout lines, and I repress a shudder.
It’s just so gross.
“What’s your deal?” Jake chuckles, watching my hobbled walk. I wave to Delia and Kyle, and then drop down in the chair beside Jake, resting one foot on my knee.
“I think pool decks are so disgusting,” I confess.
For brothers, the two William brothers really do look nothing alike.
While Colter is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, Jake looks like the typical guy next door in the '90s romcom. He’s just visibly lighter, and I’m not just talking about his lighter brown hair or his green eyes.
I’m talking about the weight that Colter seems to carry on his shoulders, while Jake walks around with more animation.
“Seriously?” Jake looks down at the floor, as if expecting to see it coated with cow poo and mud.
“It’s all slimy,” I complain, sounding like a child. “And there’s like hair and grit and ugh.”
“So you’re afraid of a floor, but can stare down a bull?”
“I didn’t stare down Brutus. We had a polite conversation, and then he went on his way.”
“Brutus is the least polite animal on the ranch,” Jake scoffs, shaking his head at me.
I like how we didn’t even do introductions.
We just jumped right into disagreeing, like we already know each other.
“Trust me, I’ve seen him in the field with those cows.
” He shudders just at the thought of it, and I decide it’s probably best if I refrain from asking about it.
“I wouldn’t know, I only met him and Saturn.”
“Yeah, Colter had you tucked away pretty quickly.” The corner of Jake’s lips twitches, as if he’s hiding a secret that he can barely contain.
“I was there for a job, Jake.”
“And dinner, Kayla.” I think he says my name just to prove that he knows it.
“That was Ben’s doing,” I argue.
“Yeah, little dude is a pretty good wingman,” Jake smiles smugly, as if he’s won his point. He hasn’t.
“You’re insane,” I huff, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. I do a cursory look around the pool, even though if one of my students were in trouble, I wouldn’t be able to do much about it. Unless it’s in the shallow end, I guess.
“I’ve been told that before,” he shrugs, like that’s totally normal.
“That’s concerning.”
“No, what’s concerning is you live in Montana and don’t even know how to identify a cow.”
“Hey, farm animals are a kindergarten curriculum. Not my job.” I flush, despite my faux-nonchalance, because it is a little embarrassing that I didn’t know the difference between a cow and a bull at the age of twenty-four.
“Kayla,” he drawls, unimpressed.
“Yeah, okay,” I shrug. “It was a bad look.”
In jeans with the ankles rolled into cuffs and his white cowboy hat, Jake looks like he belongs anywhere but at the pool with a bunch of kids. I study the younger brother, curious as to his dynamic with his brother. It’s obvious that Colter runs the ranch, but what’s Jake’s role in it all?
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Jake asks, looking slightly fearful. “You can’t like me, okay? My face is too pretty to be black and blue.”
“What are you talking about?” Is this guy high? “I’m not staring at you, and I don’t know you.”
“Good, good,” he sags, like he’s just avoided death. My nose wrinkles, studying the odd man who’s volunteered his time to make sure no kids go missing.
“How’d you get roped into volunteering?”
“I didn’t get roped into anything,” Jake scoffs. “I like spending time with my nephew.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“I know,” he shrugs, and despite being so snippy, he’s obviously not offended at all. “Anyways, Colter asked if I could spare some time to help out, and why wouldn’t I? Most people don’t have the flexibility we have, running our own business.”
“So the ranch is yours too?”
“Yeah, we own equal parts of land,” he shrugs, like it’s not impressive to be a landowner in this day and age. “We inherited it from our parents. Our other brother also owns a third, but he’s out of the country at the moment.”
“Vacation?”
“Doctors Without Borders.”
“Oh, wow.” Doctors who work with Doctors Without Borders are like unicorns. You hear about them, but you never actually meet them.
“Yeah.” We delve into awkward silence, the weight of the conversation settling into the air around us.
I can’t imagine Fletcher risking his life every day, putting others’ health above his own.
I would lose my mind if I were ever put in that position.
I have a newfound respect for Jake and his brother, that’s for sure.
We watch the swimming lessons in silence, kids splashing around, their laughter and screams bouncing off the walls.
Occasionally, I consider restarting the conversation, but then I struggle to come up with a topic that won’t lead us back to awkward silence.
Jake seems to be enjoying the quiet anyway, watching his nephew successfully lap his lane in the backstroke.
When the whistle blows for the end of the lesson, Jake stands, brushing his hands down the front of his jeans and then cracking his back with a twist. “Come on,” he says, lowering himself in front of me, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to the changing room?” He asks, like it’s weird that I don’t immediately understand his intentions, or like it’s totally normal to piggyback someone you’ve just met.
“I’m not getting on your back,” I tell him, rearing back in my seat.
“Why not?”
“Cause it’s completely unprofessional?” And totally weird?
“Fine, be difficult,” he sighs, like he’s being inconvenienced by my decision to walk like a normal person. Standing, he flips around to face me, hands on his hips. “I’m gonna get in so much shit for this.”
“For what? Oh my God, Jake!” I’m tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and if I didn’t feel completely undignified, I would be impressed by how easily he lifts me.
“Put me down!” The kids giggle as they watch Ben’s uncle carry me across the pool deck, my fists pounding into his back. “Jake, I swear to God!”
“See,” he drops me down on the cement floor that wraps through the hallway to the women's changing room. “Wasn’t that better than walking on the pool deck?”
“No!” I snap, glaring at the dimwit in front of me.
“Liar,” he calls me out, and he’s right. It was nice not having to walk on the disgusting floor, even if it was crazily unprofessional. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t do it again,” I wag my finger in his face, and his eyes cross to look at it.
“Let’s go, Kiddos. Time to get changed. Boys, you’re with Mr. Jake.
” Frustrated and a little embarrassed, I spin on my heel and herd my group of girls into the fitting room, leaving Jake to deal with the giggling boys who are now trying to lift each other.
That night, I pick my car up from Penny’s. When I put my card in the debit machine, I almost cry. Granger, who seems to work out of Penny’s office, offers me a homemade chocolate chip cookie. It helps a little.
On Tuesday night, I meet Ben at his mothers’ house. Apparently, Colter was called out to one of the Southern fields for an emergency. I play it off like it’s no big deal, but there’s still a part of me that’s weirdly disappointed.
Ben plays his math game excitedly, using the dry-erase number line I made him to help him through the equations. At the end of the session, I have the same conversation with Sylvie and Mandy that I had with Colter the week prior.
I don’t stay for dinner, and Ben doesn’t try to invite me to.
On Thursday, the handheld faucet that doubles as my shower breaks, spraying water all over. The landlord, Billy, offers to come fix it over the weekend.
On Friday, I check into the motel and enjoy using a proper shower for the first time since moving to Montana over a month ago.
On Saturday, Billy tells me it will be a little longer until he can get to fixing the faucet. I down a whole bottle of wine all by my lonesome.
On Sunday, Fletcher spends thirty minutes trying to convince me to move back to Illinois.
By Monday morning, I decide I’m done with the month of April.
“You okay?” Kyle asks, getting the lanes in the pool sectioned off. He eyes me with concern that irks me more than flatters me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from snapping.
It’s not his fault I have a shit landlord and an even shittier apartment. I had to check out of the motel on Saturday morning. My paycheck can only extend so far, and Billy is insisting the apartment is livable, so I still have to pay rent. My patience is shot.
“I’m fine,” I sigh. I take a long pull from my shitty coffee and almost start crying. I just want Starbucks. I know it’s basic and overpriced, but it makes me happy.
“Sure looks like it,” Kyle grimaces, standing up from his crouched position and using his white shirt to dry his hands. “What’s going on?”
“The shower,” or shower adjacent, “in my apartment is broken, and my landlord is taking forever to fix it. I had to stay at the motel for the weekend.”
“Who’s your landlord?”
“Billy Reacher.” Kyle whistles, and that’s how I know I’m truly fucked.
“You’re renting that shit hole above the coffee shop?”