Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THEN
I t takes Jason three weeks to undo what he did.
He waits for me after cheer practice on the second Friday of school, and when I see him standing on the curb of the parking lot, my heart flips. It’s reminiscent of the first time he waited for me after practice. There’s a small smile on his lips, nervous but determined, and when he asks me to take a ride with him, I don’t even blink.
“I’m so sorry, Layla,” he says as soon as we’re shut inside the silence of his Mustang. “I’ve just been going through a lot with my parents about college and . . . it’s no excuse.”
My eyes narrow at this, a lightbulb going off inside my mind. “Did they tell you to break up with me?”
He gives me a sheepish look, and I can’t help but scoff. I’ve known his parents for almost my whole life—they’ve been influential in Saddlebrook Falls for years. Before Ron Moore became mayor, he used his legal and political science education to help pass legislation in Texas that protects the future of Saddlebrook Falls’s township. It saved our town from being swallowed by Williamson County when county executives were trying to dissolve Saddlebrook Falls and absorb our resources as part of their own. Georgia Moore runs our local library and sits as an appointed trustee for Readers Make Way, a statewide charity that works to strengthen literacy in children.
I’ve only interacted with them a handful of times as Jason’s girlfriend, usually just saying hi to them when I see them around town. I’ve never thought much of their opinion of me, but to now realize they played a part in all this makes me . . . sad.
My hands twist together in my lap as I fiddle with my fingers. “I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jason assures. “It’s not about you, Layla, I promise. It’s just . . . with our loss at state last year and conversations I’ve been having with college programs, my parents know how important this season is for me. I can’t fuck it up. They don’t want me to have any distractions.”
I brace myself for where this conversation might be going. As hopeful as I am that he’s reconsidered, it also sounds like he may be about to double down. To try to get me to understand. Maybe Wells told him about Connor’s party . . . maybe Jason feels bad for me.
“Look,” he continues. “I know my parents mean well. They just want what’s best for me. But Layla, you and I have a good thing here, and I don’t want to stop seeing you. Maybe . . . maybe we can figure out how to make it work.”
My gaze snaps to him. “Jason, it’s not like I’ve ever tried to get between you and football—I know how important it is to you. I don’t know what more I can do to show you that you have nothing but my support.”
He nods. “I know, babe. You’ve been so great. Trust me, I know how easy you’ve made things for me. I guess sometimes I feel like I need to do more . Take you on more dates and spend more time with you. And it adds to the pressure I’m feeling, you know?”
My heart sinks at the realization that it really isn’t anything I’ve done wrong.
“I’m worried about you,” I admit.
Jason’s brow arches. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You’re such a happy and positive guy—it’s why I fell for you. But all this stress might be getting in the way of that happiness.”
He shakes his head. “Trust me, Layla, it’s all worth it. Someday when I get drafted to the NFL and get my first paycheck as a professional athlete, we’ll look back and know that all of this was more than worth it.”
“Even if it costs you being happy now?”
“Definitely.”
I’m surprised by how sure he is. I know going pro is his biggest dream, and I don’t want to discount that, but I can’t imagine sacrificing what might be the best years of my life for a career. Then again, I don’t have a big dream like he does, so maybe I just don’t understand.
“But,” he sighs. “I’m willing to stay together as long as you promise you’re okay with my main focus being on football. It won’t always be like this, but right now I need to do this for myself.”
I’m hesitant, knowing how hard I took the breakup in the first place. It aches somewhere deep in my gut that he’d have the audacity to break up with me if he wasn’t going to follow through with it—and to frame it like that? I’ve already long accepted that football is his first love. I don’t like knowing my place in his heart is so easily disposable as he tries to make himself feel better.
Maybe he didn’t realize the strength of his feelings for me. It’s what I tell myself, at least.
Things go back to normal relatively quickly, as if the whole ordeal never happened at all. Jason brings flowers to school that he plucks from his mother’s garden, and he tries to take me cruising in his Mustang when he has time to spare after practice. The entire town readies itself for another football season, and the first few weeks of games go off without a hitch. Since Noah King graduated, Jason is uncontested as the starting quarterback of the season, and he looks damn good on the field.
For as much as Jason focuses on football, I throw myself into cheer. My flying skills have sharpened in the last year and Coach West has me working on more complex inversions. Life feels good in all aspects—except for when it comes to Wells.
After our first lesson last year, Wells has given me regular lessons in riding, grooming, and feeding the horses on the Bennetts’ ranch. I don’t think either of us planned on him teaching me so much but I’ve become insatiable in my love for the animals and really enjoy learning about all his family is doing to foster rehabilitation for their rescues. It’s also obvious they need the help—other than the Bennetts themselves, there’s only a handful of employees that support the entire operation—so I’ve spent a lot of my Saturdays helping where I can.
But after Connor’s party, Wells has become . . . moodier. I try not to take it personally, but I would almost understand if it was only directed at me. I mean, it took Wells a long time to warm up to me in the first place, and after my little whiskey stint, I can understand why he’d be turned off about having me around. But his sour attitude isn’t only directed at me—it’s affecting his relationship with Jason, too.
“I just don’t understand what his fucking problem is,” Jason huffs out one Thursday night at Mustang’s Pizza, tossing the wrapper of his straw in the middle of the table.
Jason’s social life is more than limited, but he’s been making an effort when it comes to both Wells and me. Yet Wells keeps putting Jason off, saying he’s too busy with work at the ranch to hang out.
“Are you sure there’s a problem?” I ask. “Maybe he really is just busy.”
Jason shakes his head. “Nah, he’s been busy with the ranch our whole lives and it’s never stopped us from hanging out. It’s why we usually spend so much time there, so he can multitask. Something’s off.” He blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face, and it twists something inside of me to see him so cut up about it.
Yet another thing for him to be anxious about.
I have no idea if Jason knows what happened at Connor’s party, but the thought of there being distance because of me makes me nervous. Like football, Wells is another non-negotiable to Jason’s happiness, and if I’m somehow responsible for ruining that, I can only imagine how Jason would handle it.
“You know, it’s been a while since he’s given me a riding lesson. Maybe I can try to schedule the next one, and you could ride with us? Make a day of it?”
Jason considers. “I’m not good on a horse . . . not like he is, anyway.”
I scoff. “I don’t think anyone is as good as Wells. Or any of the Bennetts, for that matter.”
Jason smiles, and I feel a warmth uncurling within me. “I mean, yeah. If he’s down, so am I.”
“Okay.” I smile back, picking up the slice of pizza in front of me. If anything, it gives me an excuse to face Wells head-on and see if there really is an issue between us.
I wouldn’t blame him for being upset about my behavior at that party, but I hope he’d understand the state of mind I was in after his best friend broke up with me.
On Friday morning, I spot Wells at his locker after first period.
“Hey,” I say as I sidle up behind him.
He turns, a mask of disinterest on his face. “Layla.”
I falter only slightly, then ask, “Do you have plans on Saturday?”
He shoves a black notebook into his locker and pulls out a binder. “Yep.”
“Besides ranch work,” I amend.
He sighs. “Why?”
I take a deep breath. “Because Jason is worried that you’re avoiding him, and I can’t help but think it’s because of me. I don’t want that on my conscience.”
Finally, he turns around fully, leaning his back against his still-open locker as his eyes sweep over my cheer uniform. It’s game day, and all the cheerleaders are dressed out for it. “How noble of you.”
“Look,” I try. “I’m sorry for what happened at the party. I was emotional about the breakup and I wasn’t exactly putting my best foot forward—but it’s no excuse for ruining your night. You shouldn’t have had to deal with me like that. But don’t leave Jay hanging.”
His eyes narrow. But he doesn’t say anything.
“Let me make it up to you?”
He pushes off the locker. “How?”
“I was thinking we could all go for a ride on Saturday? Jason even said he’d love to go, and you know how he feels about horses.”
Wells gives me an incredulous look. “You think Jason getting on a horse is somehow the key to falling back in my good graces?”
I swallow. “Yes?”
He shakes his head as a low chuckle escapes him. “For the record, I’m not mad at you. Or him. I really have been busy, and I guess maybe I needed a little space from everything?” He scratches at his brow. “If you guys want to come to the ranch on Saturday, you’re more than welcome. Can’t say I’m thrilled with the idea of Jason getting on a horse, though.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”
Wells looks right at me. “I’m not worried about Jason. I’m worried about the horse.”
I laugh at that, a smile spreading wide on my face. “Thank you, Wells,” I say. And I mean it.
On Saturday morning, Jason picks me up about an hour after I finish eating homemade waffles and peaches for breakfast with Annie. He comes to the door with flowers for her and my mom again, and I think he’s a little nervous about my family’s feelings about him after breaking up with me. But all things considered, he has nothing to worry about—at least not in my house.
Annie is nearly eight now, and she’s convinced that Jason is my Prince Charming. Barry has only formally met Jason a handful of times and I’m not sure he even knew we’d broken up in the first place. And Mom . . . well, she’s just happy to see us back on track for our “ten-year plan” which includes marriage after college and a litter of babies for me to tend to while he becomes an NFL superstar.
I really do love Jason, and I’m happy he’s giving our relationship an honest shot even with so much going on in his life. But sometimes as I lie in bed at night and will myself to sleep, I can’t help the thoughts that race through my mind, wondering if I’ve fallen into a Jason-shaped honey trap, just like Mom did with her first love. Granted, she fell for a transcontinental hippie who was always going to leave, and Jason is a good person who’s simply chasing his dreams. But sometimes I feel like I have to remind myself of the independence I’ve always craved.
It doesn’t help that I don’t know what that looks like. I love the Bennetts’ ranch and the rescue horses, and I hope I can keep exploring the joy it brings. I’m also still enjoying photography, having signed up for the more advanced class this year. It may not lead to anything lucrative in the future, but Mrs. Barajas says I have a natural talent and it bolsters a sense of pride within me.
I’m just not sure an entire lifetime as Jason’s wife could ever be enough .
When we pull up to the ranch, the sun is high in the sky and there isn’t a cloud in sight—thankfully I remembered to put sunscreen on my face after my shower this morning. We find Wells outside the stalls with three horses turned out and tacked up for our ride, and when he sees us coming, he waves.
Wells waves .
I’ve never seen him perform such an act . . . so casual and friendly despite the stiff and awkward rocking of his wrist. He’s making an effort to reverse his grumpiness, and though it feels forced and unnatural, there’s no denying the immediate effect it has on Jason.
“Bennett!” Jason shouts over the distance as we trudge toward the collected horses. “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”
Wells flashes a look at me before responding. “You know I’m always here, Moore. Family duties and all that.”
I brace myself for Jason to call him out, but he doesn’t. His eyes track along the horses; Wells has pulled his favorite, a beautiful brown mare named Lady. Next to her is Champ, who I’ve been on every time I ride, and Ghost stands tall beside him, his white coat glowing in the sun.
Jason tucks his red SFHS hat down his forehead, shielding his face from the sun. “Which one of these lucky beasts is with me today?”
Wells’s smile falters. “Uh . . . Ghost. I was going to put you on Ace, but he needs new shoes and the farrier doesn’t come until Tuesday.”
Jason nods and walks up to Ghost, running a hand along his back. “Let’s show ’em how it’s done, huh, buddy?”
Wells scoffs. I walk up to Champ, careful to approach him where he can see me like Wells taught me last year. It’s been almost a month since I’ve seen him, and he affectionately pushes his nose into the hand I hold out. “Hi, Champ,” I laugh.
“Here,” Wells says from behind me, and I turn to find him holding out his cowboy hat. “For your face.”
“Oh,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.”
“We’re going on a longer ride and the morning sun will be beating down on us almost the whole way,” he explains. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
I take the black hat from him and stare at it as he shuffles away to mount Lady. Wells usually wears his dirty ball cap when he’s on a horse and saves his cowboy hat for special occasions. I’m surprised he wants me wearing it knowing it’ll get dusty.
But I don’t want to get burned, so I fit the hat on top of my head and look at Jason. “Does this look okay?” I ask.
He looks at the hat and then at me, something dark passing through his eyes, there and gone in a breath. “Looks great,” he says, and then he lifts a foot into a stirrup.
I frown, wondering if it offends him that I’m wearing another guy’s hat—but it’s Wells . I almost take it off and leave it behind, but I don’t want to make things weirder than they already are. So I take a deep breath, give Champ another quick rub, and mount him.