Air, I need fresh air.
I look around and take off out the side exit door. I land myself on the cool cement steps outside, thankful that no one is around as the first few tears start to fall down my cheeks and into my lap.
“I’m supposed to be getting better,” I mumble out loud. It’s been a year, a full freaking year today.
My heart should be mending itself now, right? Maybe it’s the fact that on the way here I stopped by his grave to pay my respects. Not sure how that’s respectful, but I remember my mother doing it when I was a child. We’d go once a year and place flowers on my father’s grave. I was young, and wasn’t really affected by his sudden death. Sad as it is, I hope that’s the same way it is with Jaxon. I know it’d make it easier for him.
As I’m sitting on the concrete steps, my thoughts unravel from that happy yet dreadful night. We had gone to the OU game in Norman. OU was kicking ass, it was going to be a blow out so we left twenty minutes early. Walking hand in hand on our way to the car, we heard the fireworks go off twice, indicating we had scored two more touchdowns during that time and all the tailgaters were shouting Boomer Sooner; even Jake and I joined in. We loved going to OU games, however we were only able to go to one or two a year, and it was still something we reveled in together.
I must have been in deep thought, because I didn’t even hear the side door open until I felt the presence of someone sit down beside me. I glance over and lightly gasp as I take in the man sitting by me—who is gorgeous.
Like ‘slap yo momma’ gorgeous.
I can’t help that I’m hit with that thought as I quickly take in his good looks. It’s beyond my control that with all the sadness I was just feeling, it’s instantly overshadowed as soon as his All-American boy physique takes a seat next to me.
He has light brown hair, so light it’s almost blonde, and it is almost too long to be styled in that hot spiky mess that guys do, but it’s currently lying flat like he had had a ball cap on. He has an amazing strong jaw line with ice blue eyes. Something about him strikes me as familiar when it dawns on me. I’ve seen him in the after school line where parents pick up their kids. I’ve always thought he was cute.
I’ve actually caught him looking at me before, and once I could have sworn he nodded at me. With him not wearing the usual baseball hat and having him this close, it intensifies how cute I had originally thought he was from a distance. Even the light dusting of freckles around his cheeks add character to his gorgeousness. To the side of him, I notice his firefighter suit and hat with the face guard.
From my peripheral vision I can tell he isn’t looking at me and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to attempt to start up a conversation anytime soon. It’s almost as if he’s deep in thought or having an inner battle with himself. Why? I have no clue. So, I decide to go for it and open up the inevitable chit chat.
“Ah, so you’re the firefighter,” I say, trying to sound casual. He looks at me with a little bit of a surprised look in his eyes, which then turns to confusion as his brows bunch together. But it quickly fades as I use my hand to gesture to his uniform. He smiles and what a heart stopping smile it is. He even has a lone dimple in his left cheek.
“Oh yeah, that was me. I’ve noticed over the last few years that kids seem to love the whole get up. So I took it to the extreme this year.” He softly laughs at himself. “Well, as close as I could get without driving the damn truck up here.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure your awesome get-up blew my toothbrushes out of the water.” I look at him to take a mental picture of his gorgeous features as he smiles even more at me.
Say cheese, click. Now turn to the side please, click.
Okay, that’s enough of me having a mental photo, but good god I’m pretty sure this amazing creature could be a model and hell if he isn’t, he should be. He gazes out in front of us, twisting a piece of tall grass between his fingers that he must have grabbed from the overgrown area at the side of the steps.
“Now, I don’t know about all of that.” He has a subtle country twang that’s barely noticeable, but oh so sexy when it rolls out with certain words. He shifts his body so he’s now angled in my direction with a serious look planted on his face. “Do you not know the importance of good oral hygiene miss?” He has the most handsome face I’ve ever seen. “I didn’t even get a toothbrush,” he says before he breaks out an amusing pouty face.
“Aw man, that sucks. Want a kiddie toothbrush?” I turn around and dig one out of my bag. “Hmmm, will this make you feel better? We can’t be having that perfect smile of yours diminishing because I left you out.”
Now I was laughing and flirting. Wait, am I actually flirting? Ten minutes ago I was on the verge of breaking down over my dead husband. Now I’m chatting, smiling, and slightly flirting with a stranger. This completely cute looking stranger I might add.
Bad Jesika, you need to back this MACK truck up now. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Nah, I’m just messing with ya, but if that’s all it takes to get you to laugh and show off that beautiful smile of yours, then I’ll do it some more.”
Then sure enough, he does his cute little pouty face again. I can’t help but laugh, again. I seriously can’t remember the last time I genuinely laughed while talking to a man in the past year. The fact that besides the men I have to associate with professionally in my daily life, I haven’t actually been interested in the male species. Especially the ones I’ve met while going out with Mallory. I have to admit though, it does feel really good.
I glance up at him and he’s staring at me with those amazing ice blue eyes that I know I could get lost in. My cheeks start to heat, and out of habit, I turn my head away. I’ve never been one for being looked at, especially with the intensity that he is showing me.
Gaining my composure I stand up to face Mr. Hottie. “It was nice meeting you, ah, um…” I pause as he stands and overpowers me with his tall body frame. He is at least a foot taller than me, which only adds to his model good looks.
“Derek.” He extends his hand to me and I gladly take it.
“Jesika.”
I’m overwhelmed with how wonderful it feels to hold his hand, and strangely how at ease it makes me feel. “It was nice meeting you Derek. Thanks for the chat, I was kind of having a down moment and laughing helped pull me out of the funk I was in.”
I start walking away, but the way he says my name makes me feel like I’m trapped in a spell. I turn around in time to catch what looks like sadness flash in his eyes before he could fully recompose himself.
“Jesika, I have to admit when I walked into the classroom, the smile you had on your face completely disappeared as soon as you saw me. I don’t know if it was my uniform or what exactly triggered it.” Pausing, he sighs heavily, “I know I don’t know you, but I had to make sure you were okay, and hope that I wasn’t the reason for your change in mood. I was really glad to see you sitting out here—so I could talk to you.” That last sentence came out as a quiet murmur.
Now he has me curious. Why does someone I have never talked to or actually been around care about making sure I was okay? Hell, how in the world could he even detect my sudden shift in mood when he entered the room? There has to be more to Derek and for some strange reason, I want to know everything there is to know. “I’m really glad you found me too Derek.”
Later I will realize how much meaning that statement truly holds. He nods in my direction and I turn around to make my way to my car.
Chapter Two
Derek
Watching Jesika as she walks away from me, I can’t help but smile on the outside and fist pump on the inside. That went better than I’d ever imagined. I’ve been looking forward to yet dreading, our first conversation for what seems like an eternity. The best part about it was the fact that she seemed comfortable talking to me. Like we were old pals picking up where we left off a few years back, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’m sure I’ve been invisible to her since the first time
her natural beauty captured my attention.
I’ve seen her at school functions where she usually showed up alone, even before the accident. I’ve seen her in the pickup line waiting for her son. I know she’s caught me looking at her as we’ve passed by each other a few times and I had even given her a friendly nod once trying to play it off. Out of all the places I’ve had the luxury of seeing her, my all-time favorite has been when she’d show up where my band was playing. It was my favorite hands down. The way she would just let go, let the music take over her body and run through her mind like she was showering away all her stress, was intoxicating.
I could’ve watched her all night if I let myself, not that she ever noticed me openly gawking at her. She was a married woman and I respected that. It didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to admire her from afar or have dreams and thoughts of how it would be if things were different. But that’s the crazy part of life. Thinking about the what if’s. What if she wouldn’t have been married? That simple question right there could have meant me never knowing of her existence. Yes, the what if’s make the situation seem more appealing and attainable, but the fact is the what if’s change every circumstance if they were to take place.
Obviously, I would have rather Jesika been single and have us run into each other at school, or better yet, one of my concerts. Sparks would fly and then we would live happily ever after. But the truth of the matter is her being married is probably the only thing that brought her into my life to begin with. Just like my situation with Emma’s mom, things happen the way they’re supposed to happen. People come into your life; some come with a purpose, while others don’t. It’s up to you to decipher. Life keeps happening no matter what’s going on around you and the what if’s we all usually ask ourselves would make the things we pray to happen cease to have ever existed.
However, things are different now. My what if has come true, just not the way I would have planned for it to happen. Therefore, since it occurred on its own accord, there’s a purpose for it. Saying it’s fate or that we are destined to be together sounds corny, but it’s something like that.
Seeing the effect this past year has had on her has been rough. She used to smile more, a lot more. That’s the main feature that made me so attracted to her to begin with. I’m very well aware of the reason behind her missing smile. I know she’s still hurting and it’s probably way too soon for her to be slightly interested in dating anyone, but that doesn’t mean I have to continue living out in the shadows or at arm’s length.
Staying away from her has been damn near impossible. I feel drawn to her like there’s a force field of energy that has been pulling me into her life over the last year and a half. I’m done holding back, just because she probably isn’t ready for any sort of relationship doesn’t mean I can’t get to know her. For some insane reason, I feel like I can help pull her the rest of the way through. I can show her how to keep moving forward by just being there for her.
If she’d only let me in, maybe I could gain her trust. I know the pain she feels, I know how hard it can be to move on with life being a single parent. I cannot fathom the idea of her never fully puzzling the pieces of her soul back together because of the tragedy she has been through. She can’t keep living through it every day, that’s not the way to live life. That’s not even living.
I have noticed a change in her demeanor the last few months. It’s as if she’s starting to realize that it’s okay to continue a life for herself. She did allow her walls to fall just a little and be her natural self with me today. The fact that she even opened up in the end gives me hope. I’m on freaking cloud nine right now. I’m sure I have a bigger grin than the Joker’s painted on smile.
The sound of the school bell pulls me out of my thoughts. I gather up my uniform and walk towards my truck. I don’t have to worry about taking Emma home because she’s staying at a friend’s house for the night.
I’m sitting at a stop light when my cell rings. “Hey Seth.”
“Are you just now leaving?” Seth asks.
“Yeah, I just left the school. I’m headed home.” I look in the rearview mirror and take in my long hair. “Shit bro, I have to go get a haircut.”
“Yeah dude, you look like a mop head with your hair all shaggy like.” Seth chuckles on the other side of the phone.
“Oh, so you must be saying I look like you, huh? Fine, I’ll just leave the mopping to you then,” I say, teasing him back.
“Whatever, just hurry that shit up bro, don’t be fucking poking around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll be there by seven, bye.”
Ten minutes early, I arrive at the outside venue where we’re playing tonight. Whenever we have a gig, I’m crazy pumped up to be in my element. To me, being a drummer is such an amazing release; it’s the most freeing instrument there is to play.
When I was younger, the idea of getting to beat the shit out of some drums and to one day be paid for it was the most awesome idea ever. But the more I played and learned the technique of setting the perfect tempo, the more addicting playing became. To me, it was the best high a person could ever get.
It’s not like we get paid much per gig these days, but I don’t do this for a living. Playing shows is just a hobby for me, there’s no way I’d ever be able to pursue anything more than the gigs we get around here anyways. I enjoy our close knit fan base we have acquired over the years. They make the idea of knowing this is as far as the band will ever go worth it. If by some chance the band is ever noticed, I wouldn’t be part of the musical journey.
I have priorities. Emma is my main concern, even though being in a famous band while touring the world has been a dream of mine and Seth’s since we were kids. That dream has since fizzled away on my part. Now on the other hand, that’s all Seth wants out of life. I’m not quite sure how my brother feels about the fact that I won’t be hanging around once our band hits it big. I’m sure he knows, but damn I hope if that day ever comes it doesn’t cause a rift in our relationship like it did when I took off to college.
I can only hope I’d still be able to take part in the creative process of it all; the behind the scenes aspect of the band. I want the part that wouldn’t require me to live off of a tour bus for months at a time. The writing and recording aspects that is, watching your idea come together by blending impressive melodies with fresh new lyrics is such an amazing sensation. Almost as mesmerizing as being on stage, watching the crowd dance and sing every damn lyric to the songs you wrote. I actually wrote a few of our songs myself. That was during a painful time in my life.
If I hadn’t had music as my avenue to release all the pent up feelings I was trying to bury, my life would have went further to hell then what I already thought it was.
Well hell, I can’t think about the what if’s in life. They can just hire a fill in drummer for when they go on tour. But the truth of the matter is, being a famous drummer was my dream before Emma was even a thought. She’s my life now, has been for the last six years. I’m all she has, there’s no possible way I could ever leave her or would ever want to.
I find Seth with the rest of the band going over the set list. I listen in on the song change he decided to throw in. It doesn’t bother me since I get tired of playing the same shit over and over anyways; I’m always up for a change. The rest of the guys might not agree, but it is what it is. Lead singer means Captain of the Band. Ah hoy mate! Man, my brain is all whacked out.
Seth finishes and walks over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Dude, what’s up with that shit eating grin that’s plastered all over your face? You look like a little girl that just got asked to prom.”
I push his hand off my shoulder. “Shut the hell up man,” I say with a smile. “You know I’m always hyped when we have a big gig.”
“Uh huh,” Seth says while giving me a grin. “Maybe hyped like you can’t keep the hell still, like you’re ready to beat the shit outta some drums.” He nudges my shoulder. “Not looking all c
heesy like you just got a blow job out in the parking lot.” Seth pauses and looks at me. “Holy shit, you finally got your ass laid, huh? Who’s the lucky chick?” He begs me with his bottom lip sticking out like a school girl.
“Even though that’d be fucking nice bro, I don’t have to get laid to be smiling, but I did meet someone today,” I say smiling.
“Aw shit, I knew it. You’re so getting laid after the show. It’s already in the bag. That would put a big ass grin on my face too, if I already had some grade A mapped out for the night. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s always a guarantee I’ll be getting some. I am in the band. Hell-o,” he says while punching my arm and winking.
Seth and I really look nothing alike. I’m a lot taller, definitely more filled out than he is. He has more of the whole rocker look going on. You know the type; fitted pants and shirts, tattoos scattered around his upper torso, back and arms, a couple piercings including his ears being gauged. His hair is longer than mine. Not sure what you’d even call it besides untamed rocker hair.
Yep, pretty typical.
Now I on the other hand, am the complete opposite. Some of the band mates call me pretty boy, who I am not, but I just like to keep it simple. I usually wear loose jeans, so my legs and crotch can breathe and some random fitted t-shirt or wife beater which shows off a few of my tattoos. I usually style my hair into a faux hawk or the messy bed head look, which the females seem to like. Plus it helps me pull off the rocker vibe a little better.
I tell Seth very little about Jesika, meaning I don’t indulge in all the details of how I know her or had formed a distanced crush on her. I just give him bits and pieces of our encounter.
“Derek,” Seth starts, “I have to say that even though your grin isn’t because you’re getting in balls deep after the show, I am happy for you. I haven’t seen you actually happy over a chick in a very long time.” He claps my shoulder and then continues, “Maybe you’ll get inspired to write us some more upbeat positive songs, instead of the sad sappy ones you have written for us.” He gives me a sympathetic nod.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3) Page 58