14. Mia
CHAPTER 14
Mia
D ad is having a good day. Mom has him sitting on the small patio that overlooks Main Street because it’s cooler this afternoon than it’s been in days. That will make my bike ride with Jones a little more comfortable.
Thinking of Jones has me all twisted up inside. There are only about three people in this world who make me feel comfortable and safe and he’s one of them. That thought is scary as hell.
Mom got one of the high school employees to cover the rest of my shift today. That way Jones and I won’t be bike riding at night. But it doesn’t mean she approves of me and Jones spending time together.
I step out onto the patio and Dad turns his head at the sound of the door sliding closed behind me. He smiles when he sees me, though it’s crooked in a way that makes my stomach flip-flop. Dad’s doctor said he’s optimistic he’ll make a full recovery, but for now, he’s got paralysis on the left side of his body. It’s sad and painful to see on such a strong man.
“Hey, sweetie,” he mutters.
“Hi, Dad.” I kiss him on the cheek before sitting in the empty chair on the patio. “How are you feeling today?”
“Good,” he says with a nod, the G sound not fully enunciated.
From the patio, you get a view of Main Street as well as a portion of the mountains. It’s beautiful. As a kid, I never appreciated it. While other kids were living in the bigger homes on the outskirts of downtown Maple Ridge, I was living in this modest apartment above Base Camp Sports. But it helped Jones and Cammie lived nearby. The convenience of our proximity meant we were all practically inseparable.
I gaze out and from here, I can see Martin’s Hardware, Brew Box, and at the corner—The Pines Bar and Grill. Warmth floods my body. Growing up here was amazing, but imagining living here now, near all my friends feels like a dream.
“H-how’s it going?” Dad’s words slur.
“Good. Ellis trained me on the new system. Seems easy enough. The store has been busy this week. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I try to assure him.
But he looks at me, with a raised brow and a crooked smirk on his face.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I wasn’t referring to the store. I was asking ‘bout you. And Jones.”
And there it is. The man had a stroke and lost some mobility but apparently, his memory is just fine.
“We’re fine.”
“Ha,” he barks out. “Seems to me…better than fine.”
“Dad,” I say. I don’t know what he’s looking for here, but if he wants to know what’s going on with me and Jones, I don’t know either. “We have to spend time together because of Bikes and Beers.”
“Sure,” he drags out the word and flicks his attention to the street below.
“But say we… wanted to spend time together,” I hedge, testing the waters. Mom and Dad never really said what they’ve thought of Jones since we lost the baby. But my assumption has always been they must hate him because he’s the reason I left eight years ago and haven’t returned since. “What would you think about that?”
He turns to look at me. “I’d think, I’m not surprised.” He releases a light laugh. “Jone-s-s-s is a good man. Not perfect,” he’s quick to say, “but g-g-good.” He smiles and returns his gaze back to the street.
I do too. We sit like this for a long time. In silence. Just watching the people in town as they move about their day. But our conversation buzzes in my mind.
Rosie
Give up the details about you and Jones or I take back my offer of free coffee.
Cammie
Is it true you spent the night with Jones?
Rosie
Is he as good as he used to be?
Cammie
Should I be worried?
Rosie
Did you at least get yours before he did?
Cammie
Let’s have a girl’s day at the cabin. You in?
Rosie
Guess y’all are coming over Friday. Suppose I can wait for all the dirty details until then.
Me
Since when do you say y’all?
The paved bike path starts in town near Main Street. It continues straight for about 2 miles before the path turns to dirt and takes you through the pine trees. It follows the creek and after 3 miles, it widens to a bridge. The path continues all the way to the mountain and veers off into multiple bike trails with steep and bumpy terrain. There are three options when signing up for Bikes and Beers. 15-, 30-, or 45-mile routes.
But Jones and I have only planned to go as far as the bridge, which is only about 6 miles. It’s too late in the afternoon to complete any of the routes. We meet at the gazebo in the center of town. This is where the after-party for the event will take place. Jones’s hair is messy and sticking up and it causes my body to hum. His bike is a newer model which surprises me, considering he’s still driving around the same truck he did in high school. Mine is a rented one from the store. I’m not really sure what happened to my old bike, and I didn’t want to bother Dad with it.
“How long has it been since you rode?” Jones asks while he gestures at the bike held awkwardly in my hands.
Being back with him has my mind sex-crazed and so my first thought is, I just rode last night . But that’s not what he’s referring to.
“Uh, it’s been a few years.”
Honestly? It’s been more than a few .
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“I don’t have a choice. This is for research purposes, right?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it’s the same route we’ve been having the riders take the last five years.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t done it. If I’m one of the event hosts, don’t you think I should at least know what the route is like?”
“Then are you sure you don’t want to do the full route?” He waggles his brows at me.
“And get stuck out there in the dark, not a chance.”
“C’mon, does it sound that terrible getting stuck with me in the dark?”
Actually, the opposite. The sound of that makes me excited. At this point, it should be obvious to him that I wouldn’t mind getting stuck with him anywhere. Sometimes I think being in a world where it’s just him and me sounds like the best thing ever. But that’s not our reality.
“Next time,” I assure him and climb onto the bike.
“Suit yourself, Peaches.”
This time, when he calls me the familiar nickname, it sounds so effortless. Like no time has passed at all and he’s simply been calling me Peaches for the last eight years. How did it come back to him so easily?
He shoots me a sexy grin over his shoulder before he pedals away. And my pulse picks up. Because of course it’s sexy. Jones Martin can’t do anything that’s not sexy.
Through the few miles on the paved path, I keep up with him. I’m a little unsteady, but at least I haven’t fallen yet. Whoever started that phrase, “It’s just like riding a bike” to refer to something easy, was an idiot. Or maybe they weren’t as uncoordinated as I am.
It’s ironic that my dad owns a sporting goods store when I’m not qualified to participate in even half of the sports out there. I’ve done some rock climbing but most of my time was spent indoors or at Grade I. My parents discovered at a young age skiing required too much coordination, but snowboarding was a little easier.
I prefer to keep both feet on the ground when it comes to my sports. So I took to hiking when I was in high school and have loved it ever since. But I think my dad would argue hiking isn’t technically a sport since it doesn’t require much equipment.
When I first moved to Connecticut, I found hiking was the only thing to clear my head. Those first few years were the most difficult. Leaving not only Jones and my friends, but my parents too was hard. Especially after going through the trauma of losing the baby. There were many days when the darkness nearly won. But I’d put my hiking boots on, grab my backpack and set off on a trail, and somehow live through another day.
“You doing okay back there?” Jones calls.
Without realizing it, I’ve trailed quite a bit behind him. “I’m fine,” I holler back.
“Let’s stop at the bridge.”
I don’t argue. I could use the break. But just the thought of stopping at the bridge gets my stomach twisting. It’s the place I told Jones I was pregnant.
Jones reaches the bridge first and climbs off his bike. I arrive a few moments behind him. My heart is already racing. He leans his bike against the railing and then helps me with mine. It’s sweet. It’s thoughtful. And I find myself wishing he wasn’t either.
Jones leans against the railing, resting his arms on the top. I come up next to him and gaze out at the slow movement of water below us. It’s quiet and peaceful.
For the first time all day, I allow myself to suck in a deep breath. It’s been years since I’ve been here. At one time, this was a favorite spot of mine. It’s not surprising I would choose this exact spot to tell Jones I was pregnant.
“You know what’s so great about this place?” Jones asks, wistfully.
“Hmm?” I ask.
“It’s reliable.”
My brows draw together, and I turn my face to look at him. He’s studying the view, his expression pensive. I take advantage of him being distracted to admire him. His jawline is more defined than it once was, and the veins in his neck are prominent. The muscles strain across his shoulders and his biceps bulge at the hem of his t-shirt sleeves.
My cheeks heat and a hum begins in my depths. I always thought Jones was attractive. But seeing him like this—the grown-up version of Jones—has me thinking he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
Spinning toward me, I feel caught in my gawking. But if he noticed, he doesn’t mention it. Thank God .
I quickly recall our conversation from a few seconds ago. “How is this place reliable?”
“The river is always here. It always flows in the same direction. The sound of the water as it rushes over the rocks is the same. There’s no surprises.” He hunches a shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s just comforting. When everything else seems to go to shit, this is unchanging.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that before. But it makes sense.”
We sit in silence for what feels like a long time. It’s equally peaceful as it is unsettling. There’s so much we haven’t discussed since I returned to Maple Ridge. Things from the time we spent apart, and things from our past. There’s so much to unpack but the more I think about it, the more overwhelming it feels.
Do we really have to make a trip down memory lane? Does it even matter? What will it accomplish if we do? It’s too painful to think about never mind talk about.
“Being here…with you…it’s got me thinking about the last time we were here together,” he says.
And there it is.
My heart stalls in my chest. “Jones,” I say his name on an exhale, and dip my chin.
He moves closer to me and pushes my long hair behind my ear. “I thought you wanted to talk about this?”
I look up at him. “I do. I did. But that was before.”
“Before…?” he lets the question hang in between us.
“Before…you and me…you know.”
He grins. “Peaches, are you getting shy on me again?”
“What? No, don’t be silly.” I wave him off and face the river again.
But he grips my hip and spins me back around, stealing the air from my lungs. The wood railing presses into my lower back as he forces his chest against mine. Fear edges in the back of my mind about the rushing water below us.
“Then say it,” Jones demands, his voice low and rumbly.
Flustered, my cheeks fill with heat as my eyes search his. “What do you want me to say, Jones? That we had sex? That we fucked? We made love? Because I don’t know what we did, or what we are.”
“All of it. We had sex, we fucked, we made love,” he repeats my words and it’s intense.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. Confusion swims in my head while my craving for him tightens in my core. His fingers dig into my hips and it’s borderline painful. Except it’s not. Because we’re in this intense moment. Where we’re actually talking about our feelings. Where we’re talking about what’s going on between us.
“That’s so fucked up,” my words tumble out, my gaze dancing over his.
“You’re right. It is fucked up. Because what we have between us isn’t simple. It isn’t cut and dry. It never has been with us. And it has nothing to do with the baby.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t do this with you, Jones.”
“You can’t do what?”
“This,” I announce, gesturing in the space between us. “I spent years trying to get over you. I spent years trying to find a healthy relationship.”
“What are you saying? You don’t think we had a healthy relationship? Because that’s bullshit, Mia.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I agree.
He lets go of me and steps backward, the pressure releases from my lungs.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he turns his back to me. “You’re the one who wanted to do this. In my truck the other day. You’re the one who wanted to talk about it. About her .” He spins back around to face me. “Now what? You don’t?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t want to hurt you,” my words choke out.
“Yeah, well, too late for that,” he snaps, his eyes are dark and hollow.
Anguish aches in my throat. How did we get here just now? How did our conversation go from heated to emotional? I want to go back to how we were only moments before. Where he wanted me and I so badly wanted him.
A tear rolls down my cheek and I swipe it away. “That’s not fair, Jones.”
“Fair? You wanna talk about fair?” He begins pacing on the bridge. “Okay, let’s fucking do it. I’ll go first.”
A couple approaches the bridge but thankfully they read the room and change their mind and take the path back the way they came.
“We made plans. Standing in this very spot.” He points down at the bridge. “We were going to start a family, we were going to get married,” he fires off one at a time.
My heart thunders against my ribs. “Yes, but then we lost her,” I cry, cutting him off.
“Yeah,” he huffs, placing his hands on his hips. “And then you left me. Right after we lost our baby, I lost you, too.”
A sob rips free from my chest and as much as I try to muffle it, it still sounds intrusive.
“You were my first, Mia. You were supposed to be my last. But then you left me.”
It’s such a harsh reality. I did that to him. All I wanted to do was save him from the pain I was feeling when what I really did was make it worse.
“I know,” I cry, nodding.
“ That’s unfair.”
“I’m sorry.” My lip quivers.
Hesitantly, he steps closer to me. He brushes a tear off my cheek and then slides his hand to the back of my neck. It feels like an anchor; solid and like he’s holding me in place.
“I’m sorry, too,” he says, his tone more even now. “I’m sorry it hurt too much to look at me. I’m sorry we had to grieve the loss of our daughter separately. I’m sorry you’ve carried around the guilt of leaving me when shit hit the fan.”
I reach my hand up to hold onto his that’s gripping the back of my neck. It somehow connects us further while ameliorating us at the same time. Like the two of us are sturdy and whole when we’re together.
“Jones, stop apologizing,” I whisper, as the tears continue to fall.
Jones’s other hand comes around to my lower back, and he hauls me against him. In his embrace, while we gaze in one another’s eyes, I feel safe and secure. And the pain I felt in those early days after losing Aster, while looking at Jones, is almost non-existent.
Now I need him with me.
“But what I’m most sorry about, is regardless of what happens between us this summer, if we keep fucking or not, you’re stuck with me.”
My gaze dances over his.
“We still have to plan this event together. We can’t let your dad down.”
Warmth unfurls in my chest. “Or you.”
His brows pinch together.
So I elaborate, “I know how important this event is for you too.”
He yanks me in closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and my eyes flutter closed. “Thank you,” he mutters, his breath radiating against my skin.
Just like that, things align between us and we’re Jones and Mia again. He’s my person and I am his.
Crushing his mouth to mine, he parts my lips with his tongue, and we kiss desperately. Like we need the other to breathe. To live.
When we pull apart, I say, “But is it okay if we take a break from event stuff for the rest of the day?”
He rears his face back and gazes at me. “Why? You got something else in mind?”
“Mayyyybe,” I drag out the word in singsong and mock innocence. “You know, we could have sex, we could fuck, we could make love.”
He tickles me and makes me burst into laughter.