17. JESS
Chapter seventeen
JESS
I’m so glad I took Tina’s advice. This place is breathtaking. I looked up, “What to see on a visit to Glacier National Park,” and the results are amazing so far.
Jagger and I are driving on the “Going-to-the-Sun” road right now, a must according to people online. It runs through the heart of the park and is incredible. The views of the glaciers and lakes are so beautiful they don’t seem real.
We’ve stopped to take pictures many times. Jagger is a great sport about it. He already knows I’m a big believer in capturing memories from our past relationship. They say Kim Kardashian is the queen of selfies, but Jagger always said I’m a close second.
It’s never just me though, it’s always the two of us. It makes me realize how few pictures I’ve taken, really, since we broke up. I’m making up for it today. We take snaps in front of the sign when we enter, in the car, and in front of every lake we pass.
My favorite so far, is our current location in front of something called “The Weeping Wall,” a dramatic section of rock face where water cascades down onto the road. With it being late summer, it doesn’t run as fast, but as you drive through, the “rain” still pours down a little.
We just finished our selfies, and now Jagger is doing his own little photo shoot, striking poses like a model because I asked him to. I’ve pulled this move before—back in Miami when Nat was visiting, and Jagger and I took her to South Beach. Nat always said she couldn’t believe he’d keep posing for me, but he did. Just like he’s doing now.
“A little to the left, no, the right. Give me happiness, now give me a serious face. Ok, fold your arms and lean back against the wall.” He continues adjusting as cars drive by, probably thinking we’re filming something for YouTube. I guess the good part about today’s society is that they think nothing of it, just a couple filming their trip to show the world.
“Last pose, put your hand up to your forehead like you’re covering your eyes from the sun and squint like you’re trying to see something in the distance. Maybe you’ve spotted a grizzly bear or something.”
Jagger starts the pose, then drops his hand. “Jess, I’m not an explorer, you know,” he chuckles. “And if I spotted a grizzly bear, even in the distance, I wouldn’t be standing out here, trying to get a better view. I’d be in my car and headed in the opposite direction. I’m not going to be one of these people that gets attacked by wildlife because they need to gaze in a ferocious bear’s eyes.”
“Good point,” I concede. “But since you don’t actually see one right now, let’s just pretend, ‘kay?”
Jagger smiles at me. “Ok.” He resumes his pose, even gets dramatic about it, pretending to survey the land from left to right and back again. “Look, out yonder at the beauty of the land. There’s so much to explore. Let’s capture this moment with picture after picture to immortalize it.”
Ok, I think he’s had enough.
“All right, Davy Crockett, you’re done,” I giggle.
Jagger jumps down from the wall, giving me a quick peck and an adorable grin on his way to the car. Watching him change positions gave me a flashback to a few days ago. I still can’t believe he was under my desk, or that Talon never realized it. I wish there was a camera that captured him shifting his body to squeeze in that tiny spot.
Jagger filled me in about how he stopped by my office to book another appointment with my lips. We’ve now agreed it’s safer to just plan things in advance—scheduling on the calendar has become a little too risky.
But we don’t want to leave a text trail or have too many secluded conversations, maybe we should try carrier pigeon. We’ll figure it out.
What I know for sure is trying to talk with Talon while Jagger did whatever it is he was doing to my leg cannot happen again. Later that day, Tina came to check on me.
Talon is really a sweet guy underneath it all. He was clearly worried about me and my erratic behavior after we talked. It was understandable. But trying to have a normal chat while there were lips on my ankle was torturous.
We might need to find a secluded spot for a reenactment—one without a desk for my knee to crash into. I never imagined I’d replay kisses to my lower leg in my mind, but now, they’re definitely on repeat. Forget the nook by my ear, clearly my ankle bone is the new hotspot.
Jagger and I take a break at a pull out with restrooms and picnic tables to have some lunch. I stopped by a great deli in Echo Ridge before we left and got him his favorite, a triple decker Club Sandwich.
He opens it and takes a huge bite of the turkey, lettuce, tomato and bacon piled high on multiple layers of toasted bread. “So good, thank you, Jess.”
“Of course, you’re welcome.”
“I can’t believe you remembered I like ketchup instead of mayo. You’re so sweet.” Jagger pulls me close. I love the feeling of his arms around me without looking over my shoulder to see who could be watching. I also love his very muscular chest, the taut landing zone my face is currently nestled against, let me be clear about that.
“The owner definitely gave me a quizzical look when I requested it. But I just said that my friend has a penchant for bacon and tomatoes that cannot be denied. He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Whatever floats your boat.’”
Jagger laughs. “Well, bacon and ketchup definitely float my boat. Let me thank you properly for your thoughtfulness. Actually, you have two thank yous coming. I haven’t given you the one for trying to get this team on the map yet.”
He puts his sandwich down, then turns to cup my face in his hands. I love meat, bring it on.
My heart instantly flutters as he leans in closer, thousands of butterflies taking flight all at once. There are families around, so I know this kiss won’t be rated higher than G, but G is highly enjoyable, and the anticipation is everything.
Slowly, almost painstakingly slow, our mouths converge in the yummiest bacon-infused kiss I’ve ever had. It may be the only one, but I’m still putting it at the top of the rankings.
Jagger said he isn’t an explorer, but right now he’s definitely the Davy Crockett of kissing, searching intently over every inch of my lips. Plotting a course, methodically, to make sure there’s no part of my wild frontier untouched.
I can’t believe such a gentle brush of skin can set off so many nerve endings. My whole body feels electrified, a live wire from his lips on mine.
Our kiss ends way too soon. We open our eyes, grinning at each other like teenagers who just smooched for the first time. It kind of feels that way, and it’s an interesting emotion. I don’t want to forget what Jagger and I had the first time.
But I also like that this feels different, that I’m able to forget about the past and move on. Over a thousand days without his touch makes me treasure every interaction and opportunity to be close to him.
There’s a little girl in brown pigtails and a bright pink Barbie t-shirt standing in front of our table as we turn forward to continue eating. “What are you doing?” she asks. “Do you have food stuck in your teeth?”
Jagger and I laugh as I answer. “Yep, definitely.”
She tilts her head quizzically. “Why don’t you just reach in there and get it? That’s what my mom does when I get gummy bears stuck.” She looks at Jagger. “Does she have a gummy bear in there?”
The little girl’s mom swoops in before he answers. “Sorry,” she says with a sheepish grin. “She’s an inquisitive one.”
“No problem,” I tell her.
The toddler doesn’t want to go before she gets her question answered, dragging her feet as her mom tries to lead her away, turning her head back to us. Jagger calls out. “You were right! It was a gummy bear. I just did what Ken would do for Barbie.”
That explanation seems to satisfy her. She looks down at her t-shirt and nods, then gives us a thumbs up. She walks willingly with her mom toward the parking lot.
“Good thing it was a little girl in pigtails and not Coach Bradley that caught us kissing,” I point out.
“If Coach is at the same spot in Glacier National Park the same time we are, then we clearly aren’t meant to be.” He laughs and gathers up our trash to throw away.
I know he’s joking, but his comment highlights the reality of our situation. That it’s never going to be a normal relationship with the restriction in his contract. I can’t do this forever. We haven’t talked about the future… at all.
We should before this goes too far, but it’s so enjoyable right now, and I’m probably already in too deep to pull back anyway. Jagger has that effect on me, always has.
“Hey. How about we take a hike while we’re here? Dive deep into this nature thing,” I suggest when he returns.
“You’re really embracing this area, aren’t you, city girl?”
“When in Rome…”
He wraps his arms around me. More happy landing on his chest. He smells like cedar, nature clearly wants to be near him too, enfolding him in its scent. I could get used to Jagger and the outdoors. If this is where we need to go to be alone, I’m in.
“Ok, if you’re up for it, so am I. Lead the way.”
We hop back in the car, and I search until I find a more secluded hike in the park, with the best chance to see mountain goats. Those animals fascinate me. When I think of goats, I think of farm animals, so I’d love to see them on the rocky crags, balancing like pros.
Jagger agrees easily, and we take off for Headline Trail, a spot visitors claim they get the most encounters with the goats. A sighting’s definitely not a guarantee but very possible.
The hike is close to twelve miles long and strenuous, so we agree to go as far as we can, then turn back. As we continue gaining elevation, we’re treated to sweeping views of rugged mountain peaks, expansive valleys and lush meadows.
We haven’t seen any other hikers, it’s perfect.
Our goal is the Hidden Lake Overlook, about three miles in, but we quickly realize with the altitude and lack of hiking experience, we’re unlikely to make it that far. Plus, some of the trail is ridiculously narrow along the cliffside.
“I think that’s it for me,” Jagger says and flops to the ground.
I take a seat beside him. “I thought you were a well-trained professional athlete. You’re tapping out before I do?”
“Listen, JJ. Hockey and hiking are completely different,” he says, rubbing his calves. “And I have no problem saying you’re a better hiker. I’ve had all the nature I can take for one day.”
That’s the first time he’s called me that. It hits me straight in the heart. We’re “JJ,” Jagger and Jess, two parts that make a whole. I didn’t realize how much I missed hearing him say it. How much I missed my life with him.
He’s hiking for me. This is a guy who has lived in the city all his life, just like I have, and he agrees to hike for the first time at over six thousand feet. I’m going to cut him some slack.
“Ok, let’s just rest for a few minutes, then we’ll turn back. You did great.” We lay on the ground, and he takes my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my skin.
“Let’s just close our eyes for a few seconds.”
I’m not sure how many seconds go by when I wake up to a snuffling sound. It must be Jagger snoring. “Hey, we fell asleep,” I say as I open my eyes. But it’s not Jagger. It’s much hairier, has horns, and is pawing at my purse, which is a few feet away. Since when do mountain goats need lip gloss? Clearly, these goats have gotten way too comfortable with people. Shouldn’t he be on a mountaintop somewhere?
I elbow Jagger slowly. “Jagger, wake up.” He just groans. “Jagger Cruz West. Wake up.” He’s still not moving, but the goat is, closer and closer. It clearly didn’t find what it was looking for in my purse and is now moving past me toward Jagger. Maybe it smells the bacon on his breath., but I thought goats were vegetarians.
This is why you don’t feed wildlife… anything. It feels like those “don’t feed the wildlife” signs are ridiculous but must be necessary to avoid these types of encounters. He or she is all sorts of confused. There’s more snuffling and now it’s pawing at the ground by Jagger’s head. “Jess,” he mumbles. “Roll over. You’re sleeping on your right side again.”
Jagger switches position too quickly, startling the goat. In its panic, the goat’s defense mechanism kicks in—meaning those horns come straight for Jagger's backside with surprising intensity.
“Jess! What in the world are you doing?” he yells, scrambling to his feet.
“Stay calm,” I tell him as he stands wide-eyed, frozen in place, face to face with the wild animal. I’m not sure why I think I’m an expert in what to do if you meet a mountain goat in person. That’s just what everyone says in high pressure situations.
Jagger reaches for the back of his shorts. “No, don’t move again. Stay calm,” I repeat.
He grits his teeth. “Please stop telling me to stay calm. I’m pretty sure there’s a hole in one of my cheeks. I can feel blood running down my leg.”
Ouch. That’s not good.
“Plus, what’s that thing? When animals smell blood, they attack?”
“That’s sharks. Mountain goats aren’t known for being aggressive. It was just scared.”
“Since when are you a nature expert?” I think the loss of blood is making him a little snippier than I’m used to.
“Since I read it online,” I giggle before I realize that’s probably not appropriate as the goat continues its intensive gaze. It doesn’t seem to care about me at all anymore, though, totally smitten with Jagger.
“Maybe you should sit back down. Show it you’re not a threat.”
He sighs. “Fine, Jack Hanna, but if it comes at me again, it’s on you.”
Jagger slowly moves his body to the ground. When his butt comes into contact with the rocky soil, he grimaces. We’re going to need to get that checked out pronto.
After a few more minutes of high-level stress, the goat finally ambles away, and up onto a rock cropping. “We should go,” I tell him as I see blood pooling underneath him.
He looks up at the goat. “I don’t know. It' still staring at me.”
“I don’t think it’s staring at you, Jagger. Although can you blame it? It must be a girl goat, and she thinks you look tasty.”
“Still have jokes, huh, as I sit here with a hole in my person. It really hurts, you know,” he says as I gently pull him to his feet. I peer behind him at the tear in his shorts. I can’t believe he got gored like a bullfighter.
“Maybe looking for mountain goats was a bad idea.”
“You think?” he laughs.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten bacon. It must have been hungry,” I counter.
I start guiding him down the trail while keeping an eye on the perched animal. “We gotta get you to a doctor. Is there anything else you need me to do?” I ask while keeping him steady in case he gets woozy.
He stops walking, looking up at me with a serious face. “Yes, there is something. Since it was your idea to go hiking, the least you can do is put some pressure back there to stop the bleeding.”
He must be joking. But his face doesn’t present that way.
“You want me to walk with my hand pressed against your butt?”
Jagger’s lips curl into a playful grin. “Why yes, yes, I do.”