Old Habits

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Nothing.” I bite the tip off the cigarette but instantly regret it as the cheap, chalk-like candy stains my tongue. “Ack…”

  Will leans down to look me in the eye. “Just ignore them.”

  I raise a brow. Of course, he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’m trying,” I say.

  He slides his arms around me. “Look at me,” he says. “Do I look worried?”

  My lips move up on their own. “No.”

  “You guys did a great job with this.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He nods, looking around. “And just look at their faces. They think so, too.”

  My eyes drift from person-to-person. A few have noticed we’re here. I expect hushed whispers and harsh expressions but they all nod at me with kindness. Every single one of them.

  It’s unsettling, to say the least.

  “Let’s get a drink, eh?” he asks, guiding me towards the refreshment tables. “Wait for a slow song…”

  “I’m not dancing.”

  “Lucky!” he says, recognizing the hive of red hair standing behind the table.

  She throws on a smile for the two of us and raises her blue cup. “Evening,” she says.

  Her eyes wander downward to the ring on my finger and she lifts a silent, smug brow while Will pours my cup of fruit punch. I wait for her to say something snarky about how quickly I abandoned my plans. Staying for now? Yeah, okay. Sure, kid.

  She doesn’t know it’s not a real engagement. I still intend to leave Clover at some point.

  Don’t I?

  Will hands me a cup and I nod a thank you. I taste the red sugar water as I glance around again. People still stare at me — I’m Jovie Ross, after all — but it’s like they know something I don’t. Like I’m the latest member of some happy cult.

  But that’s what I wanted, right?

  I turn my focus to the band instead. There’s seven of them, all rocking a different instrument from drums to the trombone to the piano. I watch the pianist tickle the ivories and I smile at the intensity on his face.

  “Nice song,” Will says.

  I glare at him. “No.”

  He throws on a smirk as he takes a drink from his cup.

  “And here she is!”

  I wince, hearing the familiar voice of Coach Rogers beside us.

  “Hey, Coach,” Will greets, looking about as tortured as I feel.

  He gestures around. “Do you see it?” he asks me. “Do you feel it?”

  I pause. “Feel what?”

  “That, Ms. Ross, is an easy eight-point crowd and I heard that you had a lot to do with making this little shindig possible. I think we just might hit an 8.5 tonight—”

  “Coach,” Will interrupts. “Stop profiling the town.”

  “It’s essential.”

  “It’s unethical.”

  Coach ignores him and looks at me instead. “Keep it up, Jovie.”

  “Okay,” I say, forcing a chuckle.

  He walks off and Will doesn’t stop glaring at him until he’s well out of sight.

  The music slows down and he instantly perks up.

  “Now, this…” he slides my cup from my hand and sets it down on the table behind us, “is what we need.”

  I dig my heels into the floor. “I said no—”

  “Dancing,” he finishes. “Right, I heard you and yet…”

  He takes hold of my wrist and walks us toward the center floor.

  “Will.”

  “You just have to sway,” he says. “You can sway, right?”

  I sigh with rolling eyes. “Fine.”

  He grins wider and pulls me in, placing firm hands on my hips. “That’s my girl.”

  I extend my arms over his shoulders and we sway on our feet, barely lifting them off the floor. The minor embarrassment of the act quickly vanishes as I gaze up into his eyes. It’s strange. We’re completely surrounded on all sides by people probably staring at us but it feels like we’re the only people here.

  The music draws me in again and I look once more at the band leader sitting at his keyboard. His fingers glide along the keys, pounding them with swift, elegant precision and I can’t stop the smile from latching onto my lips.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I blink back to Will. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s like the third time you’ve looked at that piano player,” he notes. “Do I need to be worried?”

  “No,” I say, chuckling.

  “Or jealous?” he adds. “Because I can puff my chest out and flex if you want.”

  I shake my head. “No, he just reminds me of someone I used to know.”

  Will pauses, his eyes casually trying not to show the excitement hidden in them. He hesitates but finally asks, “Who?”

  My mind wanders back as I stare at the pianist again. For the first time since I came back to Clover, I feel a piece of myself expanding. It’s like I’ve lived and breathed inside a tiny box for weeks. I wondered how long it would take before I dared crack it open.

  “I was in Seattle,” I say, drawing his full focus. “I was broke — completely broke — but I had this dollar store harmonica and a glass jar, so I stood on a corner downtown and started playing it.”

  “You can play the harmonica?” he asks.

  “Oh, no. Not at all. I faked it. I thought I was faking it pretty well…” I pause, immersed in the memory, “until this guy walked up to me. He was tall and older with this silver-speckled beard. Kind of reminded me of my dad… Anyway, he grabbed my shoulder and said, ‘oh, honey sweetie, you’re never gonna get laid playing that thing.’”

  Will laughs.

  “Then,” I continue, “he bent down, picked up my jar of pennies and lint, and made me follow him down the street.”

  His eyes twist with a protective vibe. “Then, what’d he do?”

  I smile. “He took me to this dueling piano bar. It wasn’t even open yet but we just waltzed inside like he owned it. He sat me down on the piano bench, ordered this huge plate of nachos from the staff at the bar, and he taught me how to play.”

  He blinks. “Really?”

  “Well, he taught me how to play Chopsticks.” I chuckle. “Then, it was Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and then a few bars of Moonlight Sonata. Turned out, he actually was the owner. He let me stick around the rest of the night and watch the show.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  “It was amazing,” I say, remembering the thick smoke and pale, blue lights. “Afterward, he saw me still sitting at the bar, drinking nothing but water because it was free. He walked up, shook my hand, and asked me who I was. I told him I was Jovie from Clover, Kansas. He said, ‘Well, Jovie. I’m Bernard and I’m from Des Moines.’”

  Will squints with suspicion. “Then, what’d he do?”

  “Then… he took me back to his place, gave me a big blanket from his closet, and let me sleep on his couch.”

  Will relaxes but his focus never leaves my face. “That was nice of him.”

  I press my lips together, wondering how much more I should say but the words spill out anyway. “I stayed there for two weeks.”

  He senses my hesitation but curiosity keeps him asking. “Two weeks?”

  “Every night, he’d come back and stuff his tips from the evening into my glass jar. I asked him not to but, at the same time, I really needed the money, and he knew that.”

  “Did…” His voice falls.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Did he ever try anything…?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure he was gay.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, the men coming and going from his room were a big clue.”

  Will laughs. “Fair enough.”

  I look to the pianist again. “I’ve never really been a big believer in anything,” I say. “Life was rough at the time but somehow, I stumbled on him right when I needed to.”

  My heart aches, utterly infected by the broken box inside. I l
ook up into Will’s eyes, so full of love and concern for me.

  All the pain and uncertainty of the last several years bleeds away, leaving me feeling limp in his arms. Even through everything, he’s still willing to stand beside me. To hold me up when everyone else would push me down.

  I want to be close to him again. Closer than this.

  “And…” I say, “that’s about it.”

  “What is?” he asks.

  “Where I’ve been.” I inhale a deep breath, letting it course through my limbs and back. “I spent four years wandering from place-to-place. I’d stay in one city long enough to scavenge enough money to fill the tank of my car and then I’d hit the road. Sooner or later, it would run out and I’d do it all over again.”

  I search his eyes for judgment and shame. They show neither.

  “Why?” he asks.

  “I wanted to see the world,” I tell him. “The world outside of Clover and I did. I saw so much and I loved almost every moment of it, but… no matter where I went, I always did the exact same thing.” My chest clenches. “I’d walk down the street, alone and scared, and I’d look for you. I knew how impossible it was to actually see your face in the crowd staring back at me but I still did it everywhere I went.” My lip trembles. “I did everything I could to distract myself but nothing worked.”

  I feel a warm tear slide downward but Will wipes it away with his thumb.

  “I woke up one day and I couldn’t do it anymore,” I say. “I couldn’t stand that crushing disappointment I felt whenever you weren’t there. So, I drove home again so it wouldn’t be so impossible anymore.”

  My head falls. I try to breathe but my lungs feel small and weak, shriveling up inside of me. Nausea teases my gut. Guilt threatens to knock me over. God, I can’t even look at him.

  “Jovie,” he whispers.

  I almost resist the feel of his hand on my cheek but I let him draw my eyes up again.

  He gives me a gentle kiss. I lose track of time as he pulls me even deeper into his embrace. The music continues but we stopped dancing long ago.

  When his lips finally fall from mine and his eyes open wide, he offers me a smile of warm comfort.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I tremble in his hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you—”

  “Shh.” He hugs me tighter. “It’s okay.”

  “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “Are you kidding?” His lips press against my forehead. “You’re my Jovie.”

  I exhale with relief, draining a little more of this emotion and pain from my system. It’s not everything but it’s enough for now.

  Baby steps.

  Chapter 33

  Jovie

  Maybe I don’t give fairy tales enough credit.

  There’s something to be said for throwing on a dress and some fancy shoes, going to the ball with a handsome prince, and having all your dreams come true.

  But my night is going a little better than Cinderella’s. I don’t remember her getting some in the dark, palace stairwell.

  My toes curl, forcing my right shoe to slip off my foot. It tumbles to the stairs, the sound echoing throughout the silent corridor. I tense up but Will doesn’t stop thrusting. He kisses me, hard and fast, bringing me back to him as the humid air makes it harder to breathe.

  I arch upward to keep the stairs from digging into my spine and Will sinks his teeth into my neckline. I moan, feeling my thighs quiver around his waist, and he slaps a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

  We can hear the music in the gym from here and anyone wandering the halls could probably hear us as well. I try to bite my tongue but the passion rocks us both. Even Will buries his open mouth into my bare shoulder to try and smother the grunts slipping through his throat.

  Will raises his head as I clench his cock from the inside. He smiles as I come, pressing his hand even harder over my lips to silence my wild voice.

  He comes after me, letting his head rest and I wrap my arms around him as he trembles. I feel him inside of me, his tip gently pulsing with each surge of his orgasm. I kiss his forehead, tasting his fresh sweat on my lips, and he shakes with laughter.

  “What?” I ask.

  He pushes up to stand, slightly wobbling as he looks around. “Why didn’t we ever do this before?”

  I laugh with him. “Because you always chickened out.”

  “Ah,” he says, sliding the condom off. “That makes sense.”

  I lean over to snatch my underwear from the floor as he drops the rubber into the corner trashcan at the foot of the stairs. We dress ourselves quickly in silence, catching our breaths and stealing gazes at each other.

  One moment of real bonding and we couldn’t help ourselves. I shouldn’t be so surprised but I am. I thought he’d hate me if he really knew where I was and what I was doing while he stuck around here and built a more stable life. Part of me would even agree with him on it.

  I stand, pulling my panties up while I push my dress down. It’s wrinkled now but it was worth it.

  Will bends over to pick up my shoe and I smile as I take it from him.

  “Thanks,” I say, slipping it back on my foot.

  “Hey, Jovie…”

  “Yeah?”

  He’s silent for several moments before I finally look up into his hesitant face.

  “Never mind.” He backs up a step toward the door.

  “I didn’t fake it,” I tease, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Oh, I know that,” he says, letting his smirk show for a second.

  “Then, what is it?”

  He bites the edge of his mouth. “I just…” He exhales, turning serious. “Your dad said something to me the other day that I kind of can’t get out of my head. It could be nothing but I just really need for you to tell me what he meant.”

  My stomach churns. “Okay.”

  His brow furrows. He looks away from me. He does whatever he can to delay it while I wait, barely able to remain upright in my tight shoes. I lay a hand on the railing beside me, digging my hand into the hard metal.

  “I mentioned that we were engaged,” he finally says, “and he asked if I’d knocked you up… again.”

  I look down at my shoes as panic seizes me. “Okay.”

  “I need to know what he meant by that.”

  “Not here,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  I take a wide step around him. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”

  He reaches out to grip my arm. “Just say it, Jove.”

  “Will, please.”

  “What did he mean?”

  I pull my hand free and shove open the hallway doors, startling a few people lingering by the bathrooms across the hall. I spin in the opposite direction toward the gym, feeling Will’s presence over me with every bounding step.

  He latches onto my arm again. “Jovie—”

  “Don’t do this here,” I beg.

  “Is it true? Were you preg—”

  “Not here.”

  “I have a right to know,” he argues.

  “Do you have to know right now?”

  He bolts out in front of me, stalling me in my tracks. His eyes pierce into me with accusation and distrust. He squints, obscuring the whites of his eyes even more until only a black pupil peeks out.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  My throat burns. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Jovie, what did you do?”

  No, not like this. Not here in a place like this. Not with this much anger in his face. Not with people glancing over at us—

  “Don’t look at them,” he says. “Look at me.”

  Tears fill my eyes. “Will, stop it.”

  “Jovie—”

  “I miscarried.”

  It comes out so quietly I’m not even sure he hears it but as his grip loosens and his stiff face falls, I know he did.

  I take a step backward and he just stands there, staring right through me as if I
were made of glass. For a second, I think he might cry but he forces the pain from his eyes and turns away from me.

  I look over my shoulder, seeing the inquisitive faces of those lingering nearby. I ignore them and walk as fast as I can toward the exit. The more steps I take, the farther away the door feels. My ankles ache and my vision blurs. I just want to get out of here, as far from the pounding music and stabbing guilt as I can.

  I make it to the parking lot before I start sobbing.

  Chapter 34

  Will

  It’s not what I expected. Things with Jovie Ross seldom are.

  All I want to do is scream after her, to stop her from walking away from me again, but the farther she gets, the tighter my throat clenches.

  I got what I wanted, right? She answered my question, but…

  I look up and she’s gone.

  “Hey, Will. Where’s Jovie going?”

  I’m not sure who asks it. I don’t even bother trying to answer them. Instead, I walk down the hallway, following the trailing echoes of her shoes.

  Not here. She begged me and I didn’t listen.

  I reach the parking lot and there she is.

  Flashes of a different age take over my mind. Jovie in her torn, pink dress and puffy cheeks, sitting on my old, crappy moped with a sweet smile and seductive eyes.

  Does this POS seat two?

  But she’s older now. Her dress wasn’t swiped off a bargain clothes rack. Her eyes aren’t obscured by a thick layer of pure black eyeliner. Her cheeks are still a little puffy but the tears streaming down her face explain that much.

  She’s leaning against the passenger door of her car, waiting for me. I have the keys, I guess.

  She sees me approaching and wipes her eyes and nose. Her head stays down as she turns to grip the door handle, signaling a need for silence and I don’t question it.

  Not here.

  The drive home is torture. I almost think to take the long way just to stall the inevitable pain a few minutes longer. She stares out the window beside her, carefully wiping her face as another tear sneaks out every few minutes.

  God, what have I done?

  First Street is quiet; deserted by those still at the dance. The creaking car door echoes down the street the moment I park as Jovie throws the thing open and steps outside. She’s already fished her keys out and unlocked the door by the time I catch up with her.