by Bree Dahlia
I suck in a breath. “I didn’t say that,” I say softly.
“You didn’t have to.”
I don’t speak for several beats. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“Don’t say that. I’m happy you did. You can call me whenever you want.”
No, this isn’t right. “It was a mistake. I need to go.”
“Please don’t.”
“Goodbye, Jake.”
I end the call before I can persuade myself out of it. I want to continue talking, badly enough to know I couldn’t any longer.
I half wish, half dread him calling back, now that he knows for certain who the number belongs to. Even if I won’t answer it.
He doesn’t. I slip the phone back into my purse and pull out my bottle of soda. The plastic feels tepid. I crack open the cap and guzzle down as much as I can in one go.
Then I stretch my arm out, holding up the bottle as an offering. I watch as the rain collects inside, refilling the empty space.
“That stuff is going to kill you.”
Eight
Nine years earlier
“That stuff is going to kill you.”
I turn in the direction of the voice, not sure who it’s meant for. There’re plenty of other people in The Gardens today, so it can’t be for me.
Except it is.
Jake Adams is staring at me.
Jake Adams is staring at me.
He nods toward the soda in my hand. “You need to be selective about what goes into your body.”
“Because it’s a temple?”
He smiles, his dimple at the forefront, and I want to melt into the ground and become tree food.
Jake Adams is smiling at me.
“Something like that.”
“Says the only teenager who willingly drinks wheatgrass juice.” I pick up a fallen branch covered in leaves. “You might as well just gnaw on this.”
Ugh. If this is my version of flirting, I need classes.
“Ah, so you already know who I am.”
I nod, his smile still strong, blinding me. Of course, I know who he is. He’s Jake Freaking Adams. The boy I’ve been crushing on for over a year. The one who kisses me in my dreams and whispers all kinds of sweet, sappy things in my ear.
“Then you also must know you’re sitting on my bench.”
“Your bench?”
“Yes. I’ve already claimed it.”
“How can that be possible when I’ve already claimed it?”
He moves closer and my heart echoes through me. “Well then, don’t you think the bench should go to a senior?”
“School just ended a couple days ago. You have a few more months before you’re a senior. You’re still a junior in my eyes.”
He cocks his head, his hands now resting on the bright yellow bench, mere feet away from me. “Tell you what. How about we share the bench?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s sitting beside me. If I just inch over a bit, our thighs will touch.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
Jake Adams is sitting next to me.
I look everywhere but him. The footbridge, the cluster of flowers that resembles liquid butter, the purple shrubs that remind me of an onion. Everywhere’s fair game, as long as it’s not to the left of me.
He’s just a boy, Maddie. Geez, get a grip.
“What are you working on?”
“What?” I decide to look at him now. A flop of sandy hair falls into his eye, and he brushes it away. I swallow hard. He is so freaking close.
He points at my sketchpad resting on the other side of me. “You’re always drawing in there, so I’m just wondering what you’re working on today.”
I have to blink several times to make sure he doesn’t disappear. That this is all real. Are you freaking telling me that I not only noticed him, but he also noticed me?
“Can I see?”
“Um, sure.”
He wants to see my drawings. I seesaw between wanting to dance on the bench and hide underneath it. What if he thinks they’re horrible?
I hand him my sketchbook. I might not be overly selective about what I put in my body, but I am when it comes to showing my art. He takes it, and I’m convinced I’ll turn blue before he’s finished.
His expression is unreadable as he pages through. I ball up my hands so I don’t pick at my nails. He doesn’t need to be witness to my nasty habit. I nibble at my lips instead, hoping I have enough sense to stop before I draw blood.
By the time he reaches the last page, the sketch I completed today, I feel as if I’m hanging from a meat hook. I wish he would say something.
He holds up my drawing of the dragon wrapped around a heart. “This is your latest?”
My teeth slip from my lip. “Yes.”
“Did you make it for any special reason?”
I shake my head. “Just having a little fun, trying something new.”
“Can I have it?”
“You… you want my drawing?” My palms are so slick I fear never being able to hold a pencil again.
“Only if you want to give it to me. And if you do, I’d be honored to take it.”
My world is a blur of color as it speeds around me. “Okay.”
His lips curve high as he tears the sheet from the book. He hands the whole thing back to me, and it sizzles in my lap.
“Thank you,” he says.
“You’re welcome.”
The words barely leave my mouth before his fingers are on my face. Oh my God. I’m drowning in my own saliva. I can’t die this way, not with him right beside me, touching me.
Jake Adams is touching me.
His eyes are an unusual amber color. I sear the shade into my brain so I can use it later in one of my designs. My heart is jackhammering my ribs. I’m positive they’re going to split open—another unattractive way to die.
I look away, and he grasps my chin softly until I look back. I’m a freaking puddle. I’ve just declared this place a magical land. If a fairy tale were going to exist, it’d be here.
“I want you to listen closely.” Gulp. I finally swallow it all down, and it makes my stomach flip. “You’re gifted, and anyone who pays any attention can see how much you love to draw. It takes both talent and passion to make it, and you’ve got both. Never give this up, because you will succeed.”
My mouth falls a bit, but nothing comes out. I’m… speechless. His emotive words are Cupid’s arrow deep into my heart.
And here I thought I had a crush on Jake Adams. I’ve had crushes before, and this isn’t one of them.
This is love.
Nine
I make another decision. Several of them. Hopefully, good ones this time. I will not call Jake anymore, not even accidentally on purpose. I am not going back to The Gardens. What I am going to do is focus on my marriage and doing my part.
My lines are drawn and sealed in ink.
After I came home yesterday, soaking on the outside, sobbing on the inside, I took a shower and changed into dry clothes. Made myself some soup and snuggled up on the love seat with some mystery novel that kept me drifting off the page. Cain didn’t speak to me, didn’t ask where I’d been, just continued to rip apart our house. But that’s okay. I can handle the cold shoulder. It gives me time to think.
Every marriage goes through rough patches and having one is not an excuse to turn to your ex for comfort. I have no idea what’s going on with Cain, but having known him for five years, I can be sure that’s enough time to know the real him. And whatever he is now isn’t it.
Jake was my first love, but Cain is my real love. And real love isn’t living in a magical make-believe world. It’s hard work, and it’s upholding your vows, even when things get rocky. Cain and I will get through this and come out of it better than ever.
I reiterate: I am not calling Jake, I’m avoiding The Gardens, and I will stamp “For better or for worse” on my forehead if I have to.
These are my decision
s, and I’m sticking to them.
“The squirrels are back.”
“No shit.”
I do my breathing. Obviously, this is going to be one of the “for worse” days.
He breezes past me to the coffeepot and fills his travel mug. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table for the past hour trying to update my website. The three backgrounds I’ve tried have all looked vile and distorted. Or maybe my mood is just lousy from the bowling tournament that’s been taking place in my walls.
I watch him take a long sip as he stares out the window into the field. I miss the mornings when we’d wake up next to each other with a smile, kind words, making love until we were scrambling to make it to work on time.
I miss our old life.
My chime rustles when he opens the patio door and steps out. It reminds me of how far we’ve come together. Reminds me to live for now. I shouldn’t be spending precious energy missing anything from the past, not when the future will be even better.
We just have to get there first.
He comes back in and tops off his coffee. When he grabs his keys, I say, “About those squirrels.”
“What about them?”
“Are you sure that’s what the noises are?” He clenches his keys in his fist, glaring at me as if I’m wasting his time. “I mean, isn’t it a little early for squirrels to be storing food for the winter? It’s barely June. The acorns are still green. They won’t even start falling for another few months.”
He shrugs. “So? Maybe they’re overachievers. You could learn a thing or two from them.”
My eyes widen. His cutting remark strikes hard, like so many of them do lately. I turn back to my laptop, tuning him out.
“Jesus, it was a joke, Maddie.” I glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair. “Have you always been so damn sensitive?” He shakes his head, then takes off. I hear him mutter, “Fuck” before slamming the front door.
“It didn’t feel like a joke to me,” I whisper.
I push from the table and circle laps around the kitchen, deciding how to best be productive today.
I need to draw. Just a few more and I’ll be ready to put together a portfolio I can show off. I know I’m close. I’ve researched the publishers and their stories; now I need to be certain my work is as interesting and full of life as anything else I’d find in a picture book.
But first, I need more paper. I’m picky and have a favorite brand. I doubt the local farm and feed store will carry it, so I’ll swing by Miranda’s after a quick shower. I look it up first, making sure the small indie bookstore/art supply/coffee shop is still where I remember it. It is.
Half an hour later, I’m heading downtown with a purse full of quarters. I’m excited to get out of the house, but even more so to revisit the fun, quirky shop. My spirits are lifted already.
I park in the metered lot at the end of the block, a springiness to my walk as I near the two-story building. I’ll have to make sure I go upstairs and grab a latte before I leave.
The bell over the door dings upon entering, and I’m greeted by a woman wearing a long hemp skirt and Birkenstocks. I return the smile, then point toward the art section. My thick-sided, cream-colored stock paper is sitting right there. There’s plenty available, so I decide to look around a bit, go up for my coffee, and then purchase it on my way out.
I browse the shelves, taking my time, coming across a home blessing kit that I seriously consider. I read the contents: white sage, sea salt spray, rose quartz, candles. Even a booklet of incantations I can recite while I smoke and spritz to detoxify the house and remove negative energies.
I set it back down. No need to channel my inner Rowan just yet.
I head upstairs and place my order with a college-aged kid wearing a Sconnie T-shirt, then take a seat. I sink right into the comfy fabric. The bean bag chairs are taken, but I’m fine with that; I haven’t sat in one of those things since I was twelve, and I was already adventurous enough just going with the lavender latte.
He delivers it to me, and I take a sip as my cell pings. I set down the cup and open my purse to see a picture on the screen. I tap to enlarge it, my muscles twitching overtime when I recognize the number.
Where the Wild Things Are. The book is open to my favorite page, where Max becomes the king of all wild things. I slowly take my eyes off the phone and my mouth drops.
A grinning Jake is standing not a dozen feet in front of me, holding a copy of the book. I close my mouth and clench my fist. It looks like I’m going to have to add Miranda’s to the off-limits list. What good is keeping my promise of not calling when I’m just going to keep running into him?
“Jake… what are you doing here?”
I can’t control my physical reaction when he comes over and sits next to me. I’m in charge of what I think and how I act, but how in the hell can I stop my stomach from somersaulting? I’m an innocent girl all over again, sitting on that bright yellow bench.
“I saw you come in.”
“You saw me? From where?”
He gestures to the window. “See Mad Vinyl across the street?” I nod. “I live above it.”
“You….” Oh. I do not need this information. I was perfectly fine having no clue where he was staying.
“Yeah, it’s temporary. Reyna’s in the house.”
If he wants me to comment, I won’t. Too dangerous. I sip from my latte, figuring it’s a pretty good time to leave.
I sputter, nearly choking it back up when I see him pull out a soda and take a chug. A soda. So what if it’s an organic one? It’s still full of body-inflaming sugar.
He pats me on the back, and I wave him off to show him I’m fine. “Soda? You don’t drink that stuff.”
“Well, I do a lot of things differently now.”
I’m dying to ask what that means, but instead I say, “Thanks for dragging me to Veganfest for nothing.” He convinced me to go one summer, and in spite of myself, I had a great time. Then again, I don’t remember ever having anything less than a great time with him. Until….
He laughs. “It wasn’t for nothing.”
I give him a sideways glance. His drink may not be green, but it’s apparent that he still takes stellar care of himself. Not that I can see what’s underneath, of course.
Flames lick at my face, and I look away. God, this is messed up.
“Nothing with you ever was.”
The heat burns lower down my neck. Messed. Up. “Well….”
Before I can tell him my time is up, he leans forward, the children’s book sandwiched between his hands in front of him. “So, what are you doing out in Stockburg?”
“How did you…?” Then it hits me. Obviously, the same way I found out about him. “Liza?”
He nods. “I have a confession to make. When you saw me at The Gardens? Ever since I found out you were back, I’ve been stopping there, hoping to see you.”
“Jake….” This is moving into premeditated territory now, and that puts me in an uncomfortable position. It’s even more painful when I consider I might’ve unconsciously been doing the same. Yes, the park is overflowing with inspiration, but why?
“I wanted to explain. I’m so sorry about—”
“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “It doesn’t matter. You know why I’m in Stockburg? My husband and I bought his aunt’s house. Everything’s good now, so there’s no need to explain anything.”
“You happy?”
“Yeah, I am.” For better or for worse.
“I’m glad, Maddie. I really am. You deserve it.” We’re quiet for a while before he says, “Cain, right?” I nod. “What’s he do?”
“He’s an environmental engineer over at Madison Energy. He was promoted to supervisor the same time we got the house.” I say it with pride in my voice, which is exactly how I feel. He works so hard. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here, drinking a lavender latte with my ex-boyfriend.
“That’s great.”
I decide to change the subject. “I’m sor
ry about your mom. I heard that’s why you left Chicago.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it was pretty rough at first, but you know she’s been sick for a while.” I used to always think she was faking it, pretending not to feel well in order to manipulate her only son. “After she passed, I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I trained for an Ironman. Throwing myself into the physical helped a lot.”
I can see that. Jake always was highly physical. “How about your dad? How is he holding up? And your sisters?”
“Dad had it the toughest, as you can imagine. My sisters came in for the funeral but couldn’t stay. Leah’s husband was in a bad bike accident, and Sarah’s very pregnant with her third. I was the obvious choice to come up and help. And once I was back, I just stayed. Madison’s home, you know?”
I know. I cradle my empty coffee cup, wishing I had something to keep my mouth occupied because I so badly want to ask what happened to his marriage. Reyna moved up with him, but something caused them to split once they were home. My imagination could easily wreak havoc with my emotions, coming up with all the reasons why.
He hands me the book and stands. “I’m going to grab a water. Want anything?”
I do but I tell him no. Once again, this is a prime opportunity to leave. I glance down at the beast on the cover. It feels like he’s starting to disappear from the jacket and appear inside me in order to feast on my judgment. I want to order another drink and talk with him more. But I don’t want to want that, and I grasp on to the feeling as if it were a life preserver.
I toss out my cup and go to Jake with the book in my hand. I’m going to offer to return it to its rightful spot on my way out. As I make my way closer to the café counter, I admire Jake’s back, not allowing my eyes to venture any lower. Again, too dangerous. His shirt stretches tight around the broadness I loved to try to encircle. I move my gaze up to his shoulders and down his arms. They can’t deny their strength. He’s become more defined over the years, thicker. All man.
I take a few more steps and freeze.
My heart charges around the room. Oh my God. Could that…? I move a little closer, my head in a tizzy. I didn’t notice his arm before, the one away from me as we sat. I sidle up beside him. I need to check, but first I have to decide which outcome I’m hoping for.