by J. L. Berg
“Heard there was a bit of a disturbance in the area. Should have figured it involved you, Doctor.”
The way he’d said doctor sounded more like an insult than a greeting. I chose to ignore it, placing a casual arm around Molly. She went rigid, her mind probably spiraling with possibilities.
How long would it take for this to make it around town? To Dottie and the rest of the Sutherlands?
What about Dean?
What would he say?
How much would it hurt him?
I knew because it was exactly what was going through my own mind.
I’d been stupid. Careless.
And, in the process, I might have ruined everything for Molly.
“Nope,” I replied, my arm still firmly wrapped around Molly. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we, Millie?”
Molly’s sister’s bright blue eyes met mine in surprise. I gave her a look that could stop traffic. Her gaze darted from the guy next to her and back to me. Finally, she relented, giving me the win in our mini staring contest.
“Right,” she replied hesitantly even though I knew she was silently damning me to hell for crashing her evening plans. “Heading back to the inn,” she explained. “Long day tomorrow.”
Taking Molly’s hand, I headed for the exit. She struggled until I let go of her grip. Once the three of us were out of earshot, both women were on full attack.
“How dare you!” Millie shouted.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Molly yelled.
I ignored them all the way to the car, yanking the door handle so hard, it groaned under my touch. “Get in,” I instructed.
I could see the doubt in their eyes. “Do you want to explain to Macon why you decided to drive home drunk?”
“I’m not—” Molly protested.
“I’m not talking to you.” I leaned into Millie, watching as she stepped up, ready to battle.
“I’m not your girlfriend or your little sister, Jake. You can’t order me around like some naive child.”
“Then, stop acting like one, especially when it involves Molly.”
“Hey!” Molly piped in. “I can stick up for myself.”
“Then, do it!” I barked, as both of them took their places in my car. “You were clearly uncomfortable with your surroundings, but did you do anything about it? Would you have just let that random stranger with his hands all over you take you to bed before you had the courage to walk away?”
I saw her eyes widen as she sat in the passenger seat next to me. “You make me sound weak.”
“You’re not weak. That’s my point. You’re strong and hardheaded. You’ve known where you were headed since we were kids. You’ve always had a handle on who you are.”
“Boring and dull apparently,” she scoffed.
“Determined and fearless,” I corrected. “But this? Hanging over some guy, pretending to be drunk so you can what, feel sorry for yourself? That’s not you, Molly.”
“And so you thought you’d make it a point and show me? Along with the rest of the town?”
I took a deep breath, remembering our unforgettable kiss. “No,” I said, as I drove onto the gravel driveway of the inn, stopping by the front door. “I’m sorry about that. I forgot my place. It’s just—”
When I’m with you, I forget who I am.
Who I’ve become.
I held my tongue, withholding that specific truth.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, not knowing what else to say. “Look, I’ll get out of your way. Go get some sleep.”
She nodded as Millie took the lead, stepping out of the car toward the inn. I watched as Molly hesitated next to me.
“Where are you sleeping, Jake?” she asked, the need to help outweighing the anger she felt toward me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied.
“Where, Jake?” she repeated.
“The clinic.”
She sighed, opening the car door only to pause on her way out. “Take the yellow room,” she instructed. “But you owe me.”
I smiled sadly. “I’m okay, Mols. I don’t need you to save me.”
Her demeanor changed, turning back around to face me. It was that determination I’d spoken of earlier making an appearance once again. “I’m not asking, Jake Jameson. Now, get inside.”
My lips pursed together as I tried not to laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t you dare sass me,” she muttered, making a beeline toward the front door. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and followed quickly behind.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laughed.
“God, I hate you,” she muttered.
I shook my head. “If only that were true.”
Life between us would be a whole lot easier.
THAT NIGHT, I DREAMT OF Jake.
I’d like to say it was the first time, that all the nights before, I’d fallen into a blissful slumber, thinking only of Dean and the life we’d soon share.
But it wasn’t like that.
It never had been.
While I had been spending my days with Dean, going fishing and out to eat, as we tried to force a friendship into something more, I had secretly been sharing my dreams with a man I hadn’t seen for well over a decade.
Until now.
The moment Jake had stepped back into my life, walking into that hospital room, looking like one of those hot doctors on TV, it didn’t matter what hour of the day or night it was.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him.
First, it had just been memories.
Little things, like our first kiss. The sweet innocence of it as he’d placed his lips on mine. He had been so unsure, so tentative. Meanwhile, my heart had been ready to burst right out of my chest from the sheer restraint I showed. I’d wanted to kiss him so badly for so long that, when it finally happened, I never wanted it to end.
The memory of our first kiss had given way to that first day we showed up at school, declaring ourselves an item by holding hands in between classes for the whole world to see. Again, my heart had been beating wildly, but this time, it had been pure pride. This boy, the one I’d loved since I barely understood the word, was finally been mine.
I’d sworn I’d never let go.
But that was the thing with young love.
Like a first kiss, it was so sweet and pure.
We’d thought we could fight the whole world as long as we were together, but at the first sign of battle, our shields had fallen, and our walls had crumbled.
I dreamt of the day he left, the moment my heart followed him across the sound.
I’d told myself I wouldn’t go to see him off.
It was his decision, his choice, and I wouldn’t be a part of it.
But even I had known that was a lie.
It was my decision as much as his. I’d stayed behind. I’d chosen this life just as much as he chose his.
His father said he was taking the morning ferry. No one was going with him. He’d asked everyone to stay behind, even Dean.
Even me.
Our blowout of a fight had solidified everything. I wasn’t going to chase after him, giving up my life so that he could start his.
And he refused to stay.
A crossroads—that was where we were, where we’d stay forever, I imagined.
I was so angry. So angry, it hurt. My chest ached from the pain of it.
I wanted to go after him to that pier and hurl all the anguish I felt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how we’d planned it.
But, as I’d recently learned, life had a way of screwing you over just when you thought everything was settled. So, rather than screaming the rage in my heart, I silently let him go.
I watched as his beat-up truck boarded that ferry, tears staining my cheeks, and I let him sail away.
For forever.
I awoke, the pain so real, I was sobbing. My ribs ached, and my throat stung as my body reminded me exactly what it felt like to lose Jake Jameson.
> I couldn’t do it again.
I had to find a way to let go of him.
For good…even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
“I can’t believe you let him stay here again,” Millie said the moment she entered the kitchen that morning.
I’d already been up for several hours, trying to calm myself down from my vivid night of dreaming. I’d managed to bake two loaves of banana bread, and I was already elbow deep in cinnamon rolls.
I gave her a hard stare, not bothering to validate her question with an answer.
“Damn, what’s up with you? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” she asked. “Or maybe the wrong bed entirely?”
I held up my dough-covered hands in her direction. “In about two seconds, I’m going to take my sticky fingers and run them through your hair.”
She rolled her eyes, something she’d learned from me. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. But, seriously, what were you thinking?” she asked, her sights set on the coffee pot.
I wasn’t sure her version of leaving me alone was quite on par with my own. I watched as she poured herself a tall cup of coffee, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a tight tank top and flannel shorts.
“He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I answered, focusing my attention away from my little sister and back on my cinnamon rolls.
“He has a house!” she exclaimed. “A pretty nice one if I remember correctly.”
“Clearly, you haven’t been by the Jameson place lately. It’s gotten pretty run-down.” I placed the dough in a large bowl and set it on the counter to rise.
“That’s a shame. It’s a beautiful house. But that doesn’t discount the fact that it’s still Jake’s—run-down or not.”
I really hated talking about this with Millie. One, it was really none of her business, and it felt like gossip. Two, I hated being his defender.
“Look, like you said yesterday when you waltzed in here, this is my house now, and I’ll say who stays in it, okay?”
A sly smile spread across her gorgeous face. “Okay.”
We continued to move around in silence as I finished my morning chores in preparation for the new arrivals this afternoon, and she roamed around, looking for something to eat. I thought we’d moved on from the topic of Dr. Jameson until five minutes later when I found my little sister staring at me.
“What?” I said in frustration.
“It’s just…I can’t figure you two out. Are you into each other or not?”
“Not,” I said, hearing a male echo.
I looked over toward the entrance of the kitchen and found Jake standing there, his hair all messy from sleep, wearing a tight black shirt that left nothing to the imagination.
“Definitely not,” I lied, unsure of if I was trying to convince Millie or myself.
“Because that kiss last night—”
“Drop it, Millie!” I shouted, making her jump. The thunderous boom of my voice made her realize a second too late that I was beyond her taunting and usual teasing.
“I think I’m going to head into town for breakfast. Maybe I’ll find Billy and get in an apology for last night.”
“You do that,” I said flatly.
She scurried out of the room, leaving Jake and me alone in silence once again.
As I tried to ignore the sinfully hot man in the room, I attempted to make myself busy, scrubbing down counters that didn’t need it and checking my to-do list for the hundredth time. I felt his eyes on me the entire time.
“Look,” he finally said, “if it’s a problem—me being here—I can leave again. I don’t want to cause any strife between you and your sister.”
I turned, leaning against the counter to face him. He’d taken a seat at the kitchen table, a place I’d seen him in often. When we had been together, he’d often sneak over here in the mornings for my mother’s world-famous pancakes. Or whatever else she’d happened to be serving. He’d loved his mom to the moon and back, and he would be the first to admit that her cooking left something to be desired.
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “You need a place to stay, so you can stay here. We’re adult enough to make this work.”
His eyebrow cocked in pure denial of my statement. “But are we?” he asked. “I’ve been here for less than a week, and we’ve had our tongues down each other’s throat twice. And I’m not going to sit here and lie, saying I don’t want to do it again.”
I gulped, trying not to replay those particular memories in my head or create new ones.
“It’s just leftover lust,” I said. “It will pass.”
“See, that’s what I think, too,” he said. “I sat in bed last night, trying not to think of you in nothing but a flimsy nightgown—nothing separating us but a single set of stairs. It was goddamn torture.
I gulped trying to keep a clear head as I thought about my own torturous night. The aching pain I’d awoken with as my body and brain remembered the soul-sucking moment he’d left.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Jake,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
“You do. You just don’t want to admit that you feel the same way.”
My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I tried to deny it. “So what? So what if I feel the same way? Who cares, Jake? You want me, I want you, but nothing has changed. You still have a life in Chicago, and mine is here. Don’t tell me that somehow doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Only if we let it,” he replied.
His eyes were fixated on mine so intently, I could feel them burning all the way down to my very soul.
“What are you saying?”
He stood, leaving his coffee on the table, and took several long, slow strides forward. It was like watching a lion out in the wild. Every lean muscle in his body moved, flexing, as he came toward me.
God, he was beautiful.
“I’m saying, I want you, Molly.”
My breath hitched.
“And maybe I can’t have you forever like we planned all those years ago, but I won’t deny the chemistry we still have, that we’ll always have. Nor will I demean the life you’ve created and ask you to change it. But I will say this: give me a night, one night, to get this out of our systems, to say good-bye properly. Because, let’s be honest, we never gave ourselves the chance before.”
“One night?” I found myself repeating.
“One night,” he confirmed.
My mind reeled with his proposition. On one hand, I knew in the depths of my soul that one night would never be enough with this man. That one more night would probably destroy me, leaving me just as broken as that eighteen-year-old girl on the pier. That dream last night had reminded me of how much it had hurt, losing him the first time.
So much that I’d vowed I’d never do it again.
But seeing him standing here…I couldn’t deny the pull.
The need.
How I wanted to say yes. How I wanted to give in to this burning ache inside me, to quench the fire for this man who’d once been my everything.
“No,” I finally said, breaking eye contact as I made a run for it.
As much as I wanted to say yes, I’d made a promise to myself.
For myself.
For my sanity.
And, for once, I was putting my own needs first.
The next day, after avoiding a certain houseguest like the plague, life decided to punch me in the gut once again.
Most of the time, I loved living in a small town. When I was sick, people would bring me food. When there was a death in the community, everyone would gather and lift each other up.
But, when there was gossip, man, did it spread like wildfire.
And my kiss with Jake could have set a world record.
After serving my new guests, an adorable newly married couple from Oregon, my phone buzzed, showing a number I recognized instantly.
Dean.
Picking it up on the second ring, I heard his familiar voice summoning me to come visit
him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
My heart plummeted, and although he didn’t say what it was regarding, I could only assume based on the timing.
I had nothing to feel ashamed about. After all, he had broken it off with me, using his mother no less as the messenger.
But I felt ashamed all the same.
The man I’d planned on marrying only a few days earlier was sitting in a hospital bed just hours up the road, and I’d acted like a fool in front of the entire town.
I left for the hospital that afternoon, feeling like the worst sort of creature on the face of the earth, and after the long drive up the coast, trying to come up with what I was going to say, I still had nothing as I walked through those double doors and asked for my visitor pass.
Part of me just wanted to turn around and run, but I didn’t. Dean and I had always been open and honest with each other. As much as I deserved answers for how he’d treated me, I owed him the same.
The trip up to the patient floor felt like an eternity. I was stuck in the elevator with an elderly couple going to meet their first grandchild. They were giddy, full of anticipation, with a huge bouquet of flowers for their daughter-in-law.
By the end of the thirty-second ride, I knew everything about them, including the name of the little girl, her weight and length, and how much she looked like their son—based on the pictures they’d seen.
I wished them good luck and hobbled out of the elevator. My ankle was still sore from my fall, but I refused to use the crutches Jake had given me. I’d limp my way toward recovery even if it took twice as long.
Feeling my heart leap as I rounded the corner toward Dean’s room, I was surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from it. Considering I had been worried for his mental health the last time I was here, this was an abrupt turn of events.
Peeking my head in, I found his head pointed toward the TV, a bowl of ice cream in his lap, as he laughed at a rerun of That ’70s Show. I gave a light knock on the door to let him know I’d arrived. His head turned away from the TV, and his eyes met mine.
“Oh, hey!” he greeted me cheerfully. “Come on in.”
Not exactly the welcome I’d expected, but I went with it, giving him a friendly smile and warm hug. He returned it in spades, and I relished in the feeling of his arm around me, knowing how close we had come to losing him.