by C. Morgan
Memories assaulted my mind. Sharing root beer floats on benches in the park and making out under the bleachers after my high school football games. I’d seen a lot of things and met a lot of people over the years. But nothing touched the excitement I had with Liv back in high school. Nothing touched that nostalgia. The surge of electricity that filled my body as I thought about the first time we kissed, the first time I tasted her on my lips, the first time I slid myself inside her.
Today’s meeting had been a momentary setback. Nothing I couldn’t come back from. I shouldn’t have gone to her work like that, right before the store closed. I should’ve known there was no way to connect meaningfully while she was in work mode. I had to catch her outside of the store and find a more casual venue for us to meet at. Maybe somewhere with music. Alcohol. Something to help grease the wheels and get us going again.
Like we used to.
I laughed at my idiocy. In my head, she missed me as much as I missed her. Which led me to believe she’d simply fall into my arms and we’d have a chance to pick up where we left off. Percy had warned me, and I didn’t listen.
I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, though.
Life didn’t pause, like it had in my bedroom at home. There was no “picking up where we left off.” Not with Liv, anyway. I’d need all the help I could get to pull this off. You know, to get past her resistance. But I wasn’t giving up.
Liv was worth more than one try.
I got back to my house and moved past my parents playing card games, laughing and enjoying their juice out of wineglasses. I walked down the hallway and paused, listening to them. Happy as clams. Happy with just one another. I leaned against the wall. My body felt heavier than usual. I heard my parents kissing, and I closed my eyes, pressing onward toward my bedroom.
I wanted something like that. I wanted what they had with one another.
But mostly, I wanted sleep.
I crashed in bed with my clothes on and woke up to a new day. A new shot, a new legacy to create. I showered and changed. I laid out a goal. And as I drove around town, a plan emerged. I stopped at all sorts of places that reminded me of Liv: the diner to get some lunch; the park where I sat at the bench we’d always occupied until the sun went down. I drove by our high school, grinning at the revamped football stadium, Roosevelt’s town excitement on the weekends.
As I drove past the bingo hall, a memory slapped me across the face. Liv used to volunteer there on Friday nights. I was always so frustrated with it, too. Because I never got to take her out on Friday nights like other boyfriends could with their girls. Every Friday night, starting at six, she called out numbers for all the senior citizens who showed up to fill out cards to try and win the big-bucks prizes, like flat-screen televisions they didn’t know how to work and box sets of movies from “back in their days.”
And when I saw that beat-up hatchback in the parking lot, I took a sharp turn at the stoplight.
Is the universe really going to make this that easy?
I parked my truck next to the hatchback and chuckled. Holy shit, that was Liv’s car. She still had that rust bucket of a vehicle. Then again, I still had my old truck. Always working on it, in my spare time. I turned off the engine and headed inside. As I scanned the room, I found her at the front, sitting at the head of the table while rolling a metal cage full of balls.
“B-4!” she exclaimed.
I smiled as her voice rang out over the crowd of blue-hairs.
I guess not everything changes around here.
“Bingo! I’ve got bingo!”
I watched an elderly woman dance her way up to the front. I laughed softly and leaned against the doorway, slipping my hands into my pockets. Liv stood and smiled at the woman. That is, until she raised her eyes and found me standing there. The smile on her face faded.
It wasn’t until she snatched the card from the woman’s hands that I realized how much my presence upset her.
Some things do change, though.
The room groaned as Liv confirmed the bingo. The woman claimed her prize, too: a fifty-dollar gift card to the general store. A coveted place around this small town. Liv boomed across the room that the next game would start in ten minutes. Then, she slipped away from the table, heading straight for me.
“Are you playing?” she asked.
I pushed off the doorway. “Can I?”
“Do you have money to buy in?”
“People actually buy in to play this?”
She giggled. “How do you think we recoup the money for the prizes?”
“I don’t know. I just figured—”
“That we simply handed things out? You think that all the time, don’t you? That things should just be handed to other people.”
“Why don’t we take a breath and start over?”
“What are you doing here, Jake?” she asked curtly.
I sighed. “I saw your car in the parking lot, so I figured I’d stop in and say hello.”
Her nose wrinkled. “No. Not here, in the bingo hall. In Roosevelt, Jake. What are you doing back?”
“I’d like a chance to explain that to you, if you’re free after your bingo shift.”
She scoffed. “Really? Using my curiosity as a way to get me alone?”
“Not alone. Just want to talk. I figured food and drinks might help that process after all that’s happened.”
Her eyes slowly cased my body, up and down, up and down, with a judgmental expression that curled my stomach.
“You’re not going to leave me alone until I agree to hear you out, are you?” Liv asked.
I nodded slowly as her reaction deflated me. Yet another punch to the fantasies that kept me afloat for five years.
She turned around and looked out over the crowd. She checked her watch before raising her eyes back to mine. Those beautiful blue eyes I’d gazed into for hours back when we were younger. And coupled with that blonde hair of hers? She was an absolute vision. Soft, curly blonde hair. Deep blue eyes, like the California ocean.
I didn’t want a damn sunset over that ocean without thinking about her.
Then, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll meet you after at the tavern downtown. You know where that is?”
“The tavern?”
“Yeah? The steak house?”
“Roosevelt has a steak house?”
She laughed bitterly. “Yeah. This town didn’t stand still after you left. It’s right by the diner. You remember where that is?”
I don’t remember seeing a tavern by the diner. “Of course I do.”
“It’s two blocks down from there, going away from the ice cream parlor. I’ll meet you there around eight?”
“Or, I could spin balls for you and follow you there after?”
She paused. “What?”
“Spin balls? The cage?”
I pointed to the table as the crowd grew restless, waiting for her to return.
“You want to spin bingo balls,” she said.
I nodded. “Sure. Why not?”
She looked shocked, and I didn’t know why.
“Uh, sure. I guess. Knock yourself out.”
Chapter 4
Liv
I peeked over at Jake as he handed me the bingo balls one by one, as if it were nothing. I watched him lock eyes with a woman in the front row, an older woman in a wheelchair who couldn’t stop smiling at him, and wink. I even saw him blow her a kiss. The woman laughed and started talking softly with her friends before he reached for another ball and handed it to me.
Until he saw the one still in my hand.
“You gonna call that number?” he asked.
I blinked. “B-7!”
I discarded the ball and took the new one from him as he chuckled at me. He turned his attention back out to the crowd, waving and soaking up the spotlight. Back in high school, he’d teased me relentlessly for this. Tried to get me to skip volunteer nights so he could drag me into his bedroom while his parents were away traveling. And now? He sat nex
t to me, spinning the damn cage and handing me numbered balls.
What the hell was going on with Jake?
Hear him out tonight. What’s the worst that could happen?
The trend continued all night. He spun the cage, handed me balls, and I tried not staring at him as I called out the numbers. He flirted relentlessly with the older women in the hall, making them blush and laugh and gossip with their friends more than ever before. The games wrapped up, and all the prizes were gifted away. Everyone returned their bingo cards, and I cleaned them down, feeling Jake’s eyes on me. He helped out where he could, putting up the chairs and tables with the older men that volunteered every Friday night with me.
All the while, I dreaded the conversation I had agreed to.
“Ready to hit the tavern?” Jake asked.
I stood. “Yep. Ready when you are.”
“Want me to follow you or…”
“You can follow me. That’s fine.”
We walked outside and the cool, crisp air made me smile. I loved autumn. And winter. This entire time of year, really. With all the holidays and the presents and the smiles and the good memories. It was impossible to be upset during this time of the year.
Well, whenever Jake wasn’t in the picture.
“Here, take this.”
His voice pulled me from my trance enough to realize I was shivering. He wrapped his jacket around me, and I found myself smiling up at him. He grinned down at me, with those twinkling eyes that reminded me of a nighttime sky.
His jacket reminded me of the hoodie I used to wear when we were dating.
“You know, I never did get that hoodie back,” he said.
I snickered. “And you never will.”
“Did you burn it? Or do you still have it.”
I lied. “Of course I burned it. Idiot.”
“Can’t blame you for that.”
“Yeah. You can’t.”
The jacket smelled like that hoodie, though. Exactly like it. The same aftershave. The same musky smell. That same scent I’d fallen head over heels for. I pulled it around my shoulders as he walked me to my car. Conveniently, where he had also parked his truck.
“Wait, you still have this truck?” I asked.
“I mean, you still have this hatchback,” he said.
“You hated this truck.”
“I came to love it over the years.”
“And it’s still running? I mean, it was old when you and your father first started working on it.”
He chuckled. “I’ve kept working on it over the years. You treat it with kindness and it keeps purring for you.”
“You would do well to remember that, too.”
I knew I was taking cheap shots. But I was warranted those shots. What he did to me was flat-out wrong. Especially after the divorce. Well, annulment. I slipped his coat off and handed it back to him. The scent was too overwhelming. It brought back the memories of the pain—months of crying myself to sleep, struggling to accept that he’d left without even saying goodbye, and dealing with a future that never would be.
“Follow behind me. I’ll get us there,” I said.
We drove through town, and part of me wanted to ditch him. But part of me was also curious as to what he wanted to talk about. So, I drove to the tavern. He parked beside me, and we walked inside, fighting the crowd to slide up to the bar. The jukebox blared a rock song that rattled my head. The atmosphere was rowdy as usual for a Friday night. It was the exact type of place Jake would enjoy.
“Hey, Liv?”
I looked over at him. “Yeah?”
“You think there’s somewhere else we could go?”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “You don’t like it here?”
“You do?”
I shrugged. “Figured you’d be comfortable here.”
“Not really, no.”
I guess some things can change with time.
“Want to head to the diner, then?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
Instead of walking to our cars, we made our way for the road. The diner was only two blocks down, in sight of the tavern parking lot. Our arms knocked together as we tried to keep warm. The walk was silent as we approached the diner doors. He opened them for me, and I thanked him, the warmth of the diner welcoming us.
And mindlessly, we made our way over to the booth.
Our booth.
The one we’d always occupied whenever we came to this place.
“Hi there, you two. What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked.
“Were those wine bottles I saw in the display window?” Jake asked.
“Yes, sir. We don’t sell hard liquor. But we do offer glasses of basic wines now.”
“I’ll have a glass of your dry red,” he said.
I furrowed my brow. “You drink wine now?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because you used to say ‘wine is for women.’”
“Well, I guess it’s not anymore.”
Huh. “Um, I’ll just have water. Thank you.”
“You two know what you want, or…?”
Jake smiled. “Do you guys still have that chicken Parmesan on your menu?”
The waitress smiled back. “That’s a diner specialty. It’ll never go away.”
“That’s what I’m having. Liv?”
I paused. “Uh, just a Caesar salad. With chicken? Blackened, please.”
“Sure thing. I’ll get the order in and get your drinks as quickly as I can,” she said.
“I guess some things do change. You used to devour their pizza,” he said.
“And you used to hate wine. So, yeah. I guess things do change,” I said.
He nodded and fell silent. So, I took the reins.
“Where did you go, after leaving Utah?”
He shrugged. “I lived in several cities. Miami. Los Angeles. New York City. I kind of moved from scene to scene once I figured out school wasn’t my thing.”
“So, you worked?”
“Yeah. Odd jobs, here and there. Sold tickets for upped prices in New York. Spent an extended spring break in Los Angeles working as a dishwasher.”
“An extended spring break?”
He nodded. “Yep. I tried the college thing, but it wasn’t for me. I went to Los Angeles on spring break and just kind of… stayed.”
“So, you just jumped around from job to job? City to city? Paying off loans and stuff?”
“Yeah. I guess. I mean, I didn’t really have any direction. Just wanted to find a place that made me happy.”
“And none of it made you happy?”
He shook his head. “Not as happy as Roosevelt made me.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You hated this place. Anyone who knew you knew that.”
“Okay. Fine. Then, not as happy as you made me.”
I swallowed hard and felt my heart beating faster. My eyes danced between his as I held my breath. Our drinks touched down, and I reached for it. I gasped for air before chugging down some ice-cold water, hoping to douse my raging hot hormones.
“I’ve missed you, Liv. No matter where I went, you were there. The memory of you. The thought of you.”
I nodded slowly. “Sounds like the past five years have been rough for you.”
“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Liv. And I mean that. Nothing compared to what you gave me. What you almost gave me.”
Tears rushed to my eyes. “Is that why you left?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
“Well, I don’t believe you.”
“Liv, I swear to you. That isn’t—”
“Just stop. Please.”
“Damn it, Liv. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ve regretted letting you go every second of every day for the last five years. Can’t you see that?”
And with his words, my eyes fell into my lap. Because if I couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist.
Which mean
t he didn’t have a chance to pull me back in.
Chapter 5
Jake
“I see the skepticism on your face. I know what you’re thinking” I said.
She snickered, her eyes still in her lap. “You don’t have a clue as to what I’m thinking.”
I grinned. “I know you, Liv. And I know you’re thinking that this is coming out of nowhere.”
“Are you telling me it’s not?”
“Liv, I’ve had five years to try and forget you. This place. What we went through. I’ve had five years to move on, and I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. Not anywhere.”
She shook her head as her eyes rose from her lap, only to fall to the window beside us, instead of looking at me. Then, she giggled. That soft, breathless, beautiful sound had kept my heart beating for years.
“That’s a lot to lay on someone with an empty stomach, Jake.”
I chuckled. “I’m sorry. I know I kind of just tossed that out there.”
“You’ve never been one to hold back. Or apologize.”
“Or drink wine, apparently.”
Her eyes finally found mine. “Why now? Why throw all of this out there after years of radio silence?”
I shrugged. “I want you to know my intentions. I want you to understand how special you are to me. How special you’ve always been to me.”
“It never occurred to you to make me feel that way five years ago?”
“I was a selfish eighteen-year-old. Nothing occurred to me that didn’t outright affect me.”
“And it doesn’t worry you that this all might be scaring me off?”
“That depends. Is it?”
Our food arrived and the waitress’s eyes lingered on me longer than I liked. I knew Liv caught the stare, but I couldn’t have cared less about it. The more I stayed in her presence, the more I had only eyes for her. And the more I chastised myself for trying to wipe my memory of her with the comfort of other women.
She’ll hate me for that the most.
“Did you at least get any good stories out of your travels?” she asked.
I took that as an opening for conversation and ran with it.
“Actually, I did. I think my best story is the big one I got from living in Chicago.”