Chapter 22
Jason
If I were an evil man, I’d make it my mission to get mud in every available crevice of Vanessa’s body. But I’m not an evil man, so I settle for pelting her with mud balls instead.
The first lands in the center of her chest, and as she’s looking down at the spot where she was hit, her mouth parted wide, I land another on top of her head.
“Oof,” she puffs out. “Is that how you want to play it? It’s on, Torres.”
“Let me see what you got, Cordero.”
“Stop talking smack and get on with it, you two,” Lisa yells.
Vanessa heeds her sister’s call and gathers mud in her hands, then starts flinging it with the precision of a Major League Baseball player.
As I dodge the mud bullets and gather my own clumps, she whales on me, delivering stinger after stinger as everyone, including my own teammates, cheers her on.
The front side of my shirt is plastered with wet clay, so I turn away, hoping to protect my sweatpants.
I land a few bombs on Vanessa’s tank and can’t help noticing how delicious she looks in a top that’s clinging to her body in all the right places. I ping her in the forehead just for being gorgeous.
“Ow,” she says. “That one stung.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
I shrug. “All’s fair in mud and war.”
She narrows her eyes and looks down at her shirt, then, with a wink in my direction, she tugs the front of it up and over her head as I stand there motionless.
Fuck.
She’s wearing a gray sports bra that emphasizes her phenomenal tits.
As I watch her bend over and gather mud in a makeshift shirt-bowl, my teammates yell at me to move my ass.
But it’s too late, because the next thing I know, I’m staring at a slingshot full of mud being launched across the pit.
The entire glob rains on me like a volcanic eruption, landing on the bottom half of my body as intended. How the hell is she so precise?
Mindy blows that damn whistle again. “Jason’s out.”
“Yes!” Cami shouts, pumping her fists. Then like a victorious gladiator, she declares, “The extra massage time is mine.”
“You could have just paid for it,” Denise observes.
Cami shoves her away. “Don’t spoil the drama.”
Vanessa and I stare at each other, my goofy grin matching hers.
I approach her carefully, my hands raised in surrender, then I drop them for a sportsmanlike handshake. “You bodied me out there.”
“I know.”
“How’d you land so many bombs?”
She looks up in the air, pretending to think hard. “Wait. I didn’t tell you I played softball in college?”
“You definitely did not.”
“Huh, it must have slipped my mind.”
“I’m sure.” And since I’m a good guy, I wipe some of the mud off her face as she stares up at me. She shudders when I touch her. It’s a brief reaction, but I notice it because I notice everything about her. “You look great this way. Mud is your color.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”
I wonder if that’s true or if it’s all part of her act. Damn, this woman is messing with my head—and she sure as hell knows it. It would be foolish of me to forget those important facts. “I need to grab a shower. Enjoy the extra-long massage.”
I stomp off, knowing she’s probably confused by the sudden change in my attitude. I’m confused by it too. Because if I haven’t caught feelings, why am I so upset, and why is keeping my distance from her so damn hard?
Now this is the life. Worries? What worries?
I’m sprawled out on the oversized porch swing in front of my cottage, punching a few of the dozens of pillows tossed onto the daybed to get them just right, when I hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel nearby.
I look up and see Vanessa slowly making her way up the path.
She’s humming, her face all glowy and tipped to the sky, as if she’s hoping to draw the sun’s warmth onto her skin.
I should ignore her. Save myself the grief. “How was your massage?” I call out.
Yeah, I’m a pendejo.
Vanessa startles, then smiles when she sees it’s me. “The massage was a dream. I think I’m still in it. And if I am, don’t wake me.”
“I’m flattered that I’m in your dream.” I pat the daybed. “Join me?”
She takes a step forward, then hesitates. “I should check on Lisa.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Okay.”
Well, that was easy. I’m trying not to read too much into how quickly she gave up her protest. Again, this could be a part of her scheme, so concocting a fairy tale from nuggets like this one would be foolish.
She settles onto the daybed, shifting a couple of pillows to make a plush headboard, then lying back against them. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely still dreaming.”
We’re content to just sit in silence, the sounds of tweeting birds and leaves rustling above us serving as our soundtrack.
Until loud laughter causes us both to sit up.
After tracking the people responsible for our disturbance, I whistle with my fingers to get Cami’s and Bryan’s attention. “Yo, take that noise inside.”
Cami’s head snaps up, and she sticks out her tongue at me. “We’re going, we’re going.” Vanessa and I watch them saunter through the door of their cottage, and seconds later, we see Bryan’s hand placing the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob.
“You hate to see it,” I say.
“Having trouble accepting that your sister has sex?”
“No, I’m fully expecting to be an uncle someday, so I’ve gotten over that hump. But I can’t wrap my head around either of my sisters having sex for fun.”
Vanessa laughs. “Maybe because you shouldn’t be wrapping your head around your sisters having sex at all.”
“True, true. Consider the thought pulled out of my head. Happy?”
“Very.” She chuckles.
“What?”
“I’m imagining you as an uncle someday. Those kids are going to run all over you.”
“And I’m going to enjoy every second.”
“You’re really looking forward to it?”
“Hell yeah. However it happens. Natural childbirth or adopted, doesn’t matter to me.”
“You mentioned wanting to be an uncle before, and now I’m curious: Why don’t you want to be a father yourself?”
This is the kind of question that usually unnerves me.
It’s the start of a conversation that tells a woman I’m not a forever type of guy.
But Vanessa isn’t asking because the answer matters to her own life plans; she’s just being inquisitive—or maybe she’s scouting for Lisa.
Either way, the stakes are low, so I tell her the truth.
“It’s not that I don’t have it in me. It’s just…
I don’t want to wreck some kid’s life.” When I see her eyes go wide, I add, “Don’t get me wrong, I like children.
I could even see myself taking care of my kid and being ridiculously happy doing it.
But that requires a healthy and loving relationship between the parents, and in my mind, the likelihood of that happening for me is zero. ”
“Why is a bad relationship inevitable?”
“Because someone always fucks up. It’ll be me. Or it’ll be them. But one of us will do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, and then we’ll grow apart. And the one who gets hurt in all that mess is the kid. It’s not fair.”
“Is that what happened with your dad?”
My chest tightens at the mention of him, and I grimace. “You don’t want to know what happened with my father.”
She inches closer and taps my hand. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. It’s part of who you are. That matters.”
Being around Vanessa confuses me. On the one hand, I shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of her mouth.
On the other, I absolutely do. Maybe I’m so desperate to find any true feelings between us that I’m seeing them where none exist. “I don’t really like to talk about it.
With anyone. Cami has no clue what went down. ”
“What about Denise?”
“She’s the one exception. Because Denise is nosy and stubborn and bossy as hell.”
“I won’t judge. I promise. I’d be the last person to judge anyone about anything.”
Again, I believe her. About this at least. Settling my head against a pillow, I close my eyes.
It’ll be easier to share this if I can’t see Vanessa’s reaction.
“When I was a kid, I thought my dad could do no wrong. And I felt special. Being the only boy meant we had a bond that was different from the relationship he had with my sisters. Or so he told me. And I ate all that shit up. He took me fishing. He took me to Yankees games at the old stadium. He took me to his work. I was in awe of him. He had his own office in an apartment building he supervised. Took me around when he went to tenants’ homes to check on things.
Or I’d stay in his office while he did his job.
Watched TV there. Or did homework after he picked me up from school, and then we’d go home together. ”
“Sounds like things were good for a while.”
“They were,” I say, nodding, my eyes still closed.
“But then he started bringing people along on our outings. Women, specifically. Women he’d met in the building where he worked.
Told me they were friends. I was so young and gullible, I believed him.
And then I got older. Wiser. And I finally figured out what he was doing.
What he was doing to my mom. He was basically using me for cover.
By that time I was older, and I had my own interests anyway.
So I stopped hanging with him. Made up excuses not to be around when he wanted us to go out. ”
“How old were you?”
“When I finally figured it out? Thirteen, fourteen maybe.”
“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone a teenager.”
“Yeah, I was moody and angry, and no one except my father knew why. I didn’t tell a soul.
There were so many times I tried to say something to my mother, but I punked out.
I didn’t want the girls to experience the pain I had.
I didn’t want to be the reason my family fell apart. How messed up is that?”
She caresses my arm, letting me know she’s still here, still listening. “Your family was already broken, though, and your father was the reason, not you.”