Chris snorted softly. “Jason, you’ve had women issues since the day I met you, and you always will. It’s just who you are. Talk to her, soon…while it’s still manageable.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” Not if I don’t let him…
Having heard enough to make my chest ache, I hurried on silent feet back to my room and crawled under the blankets on the couch. I couldn’t believe he’d kissed me—had been nearly naked in a bathtub with me—but wasn’t interested. How could I have been so stupid to think any of that mattered? He’d been exceptionally distant since I’d rejoined the group, even when he was standing right beside me. Open your eyes, Dani…he doesn’t care.
Slow, tormenting hours passed before I finally fell into a fitful sleep. For once, my dreams were completely devoid of both rotting Cam and my friendly dream invader. Instead my night was filled with nightmares of falling and drowning. I blamed Jason.
~~~~~
When I woke, I felt like a piece of Jack’s poo. My poor dog had spent most of the night whimpering softly on the floor beside the couch, staring up at me with worried eyes.
“Hon, you look like shit,” Chris told me as I sat beside her in front of the great room’s fireplace. Grumpily, I wondered if she was sitting in the same place as she had been when she told Jason to “clear up this little misunderstanding” with me.
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled. Zoning out, I watched her stir thick oatmeal in an iron pot on the fire.
During my morning hygiene routine, I’d done everything I could to mask the havoc wreaked by my restless night—my hair was a tangled mess that I’d managed to wrangle into a braid, and dark circles shadowed my eyes. To top it off, I’d run into Jason four times in the forty minutes since I’d left my room. I was pretty sure the encounters were intentional, probably so he could get the “clearing up” over with. Like a real adult, I fled every time I saw him.
His latest attempt to waylay me had come as I’d entered the great room. I’d scurried away and sought shelter next to Chris.
“What was that all about?” Chris asked, motioning in Jason’s direction with her elbow. He was leaning against the doorframe, blocking almost the entire doorway as he pretended not to watch me. His arms were crossed, and there was a crease between his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked, aiming for innocence.
Apparently my wide eyes and parted mouth didn’t fool Chris. She snorted. “You totally just shunned Jason. Why’re you avoiding him?”
Pulling up my knees, I hugged them to my chest. “Maybe I don’t want to hear what he has to say.”
“Why? You don’t want to visit your house?”
“What?” I asked sharply.
“He’s going to his dad’s place to look through some things and thought you might want to go with him.” She frowned. “You know, stop by your grandma’s…since we’re leaving in a few days and all…”
“But I thought—” I snapped my mouth shut before I could reveal my late-night clandestine activities.
“You thought what?”
“Nothing,” I said too quickly. My face burned with embarrassment, and part of me wanted to jump into the fire to avoid saying anything else.
“Right. Tell me, or I’ll pick you up and carry you over to him myself,” Chris threatened.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I sort of…overheard you two talking last night.”
As she stared at me, I could almost hear the conversation replaying in her mind. She was slowly shaking her head, not understanding what I was getting at.
I pursed my lips. “He said he wasn’t interested in me, and you said he needed to ‘clear things up’ before I get upset and take off again—which won’t happen, by the way. He was right about that. At least he trusts me.”
To my abject mortification, Chris barked a laugh. “I was telling him to clear things up with Holly, you ninny. I was worried she’d turn into another Cece, obsessing over him like an idiot.” She snorted. “She’s already halfway there.”
Breathless, I felt like my heart was about to explode. “Oh, I thought…I didn’t know she was so into him. I mean, I knew she was into him, just not as much as, um, other people.”
Chris watched me with a small smile tugging at her lips. “Other people? Who could you possibly mean?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Just…people.”
“Oh!” she said, smacking her palm against her forehead in mock surprise. “You must be referring to the ‘other people’ I’m talking to right now!”
I blushed furiously and glanced at Jason. He was still leaning against the doorframe, and I was desperately hoping our voices were quiet enough to be drowned out by the crackling of the fire.
“You should talk to him…alone,” Chris told me.
“Why? What if…I don’t know…” Joy and misery mixed into a heavy lump that settled in my stomach. Was it possible that Jason had actually developed feelings akin to mine, that he was interested in me? That he desired me? It was something I’d written off for so long that I had a hard time allowing myself to consider the possibility, even after the kiss. I felt like hyperactive butterflies had taken up residence in my chest.
“Just do it,” Chris said, ladling oatmeal into a bowl. She shoved the dish into my hands. “The sugar and stuff’s on the table over there. By Jason. Convenient, don’t you think?”
I tried to smile my thanks, but I probably looked more like I was about to be sick. With shaking hands, I carried the steaming bowl to the table and set it down. I took a deep breath and faced Jason, who loomed casually a few paces away.
“Dani.”
“Jason,” I said breathily, voicing his name more like a caress than the curt greeting I’d intended. God, I’m pathetic…
“Why’ve you been…never mind. I’m going to my dad’s soon. Do you want to come? We could stop by your house too.”
I couldn’t believe it; Chris had been right. Part of me had still expected him to crush my heart by telling me my infatuation was hopeless.
“Um…yeah. I’d like that,” I said, sounding like I was accepting an offer for dinner and a movie.
He stared at me for a few seconds, face blank, and then said, “When’ll you be ready?”
“I just need to eat…and get my weapons…and saddle the horses, so…”
“I can take care of the horses.”
My eyebrows raised of their own accord.
“What? I’m a quick learner,” he said with a shrug. “Especially when you’re my teacher.” He turned away from me and walked toward the back door.
What does that even mean? I thought as I watched his retreating form.
“I’ll be waiting, Red. Enjoy your breakfast,” he said before shutting the door.
I did. As I devoured the brown sugar and raisin-loaded mush, I decided oatmeal was my new favorite food. I ate quickly—mostly because I was eager for the promise of alone time with Jason, but also because I was looking forward to being home again. No matter what happened in my life, Grams’s house would always be home.
I scrubbed my bowl clean in the kitchen, stopped by my temporary bedroom to gear up, rounded up Jack, and headed out to the stable…to Jason. I found him in the driveway with Wings and a chestnut Thoroughbred, both saddled for riding. A dense fog spread out as far as I could see. I took my time examining his handiwork while Wings whined incessantly in my head about wearing a bridle.
“Oh, Pretty Girl, I’m taking it off right now,” I told the pouting mare as I undid the leather straps.
“Sorry. I forgot she doesn’t need one,” Jason said as he watched. “Is she…mad?”
I laughed and hoisted myself into the saddle. “Not really. But you owe her an apple—her words, not mine.” Wings began walking lazily down the gravel driveway.
Jason mounted his horse with ease and caught up quickly. “Well, good. I’d hate to have her for an enemy. She seems fierce.”
“He says you’re fier
ce,” I told the majestic animal beneath me, and her gait gained some prance. “You did a good job,” I told Jason as our horses’ hooves crunched along in the gravel. “I’m impressed.”
Jason chuckled. “Red, don’t you know impressing you is my number one priority?” His words were light and teasing. Someone’s in a better mood.
Bringing my hand up to my chest, I gasped melodramatically, “Oh my! If impressing me is number one, what comes in at number two?”
He looked at me askance, his eyes narrowing to mischievous slits. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Smiling, I shook my head. The sound of the horses’ hooves changed from crunching to clopping as we reached the paved road.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” I moved Wings closer to Jason’s horse and took the picture out of my pocket, handing it to him. “I’ve been meaning to give you this. I was going to when I told you about your dad, but…well…you know what happened. Grams found it in your dad’s hand. He was also holding this,” I said, fingering the heavy silver chain around my neck. I pulled the attached key out from the collar of my coat; it was warm from my skin.
“Lean closer,” I told him, lifting the chain over my head and holding it out. Jason bowed his head toward me, and I secured the chain around his neck, resisting the urge to brush my fingertips over his smooth skin. “I have no clue what it’s for…”
Examining the old-fashioned iron key, Jason said, “I do.”
We rode on in silence for long minutes—Jason lost in thought as he stared at the key, me lost in wonder as I watched him.
“It opens a box,” he finally said.
“A box? What’s in it?” Based on his reaction, I figured it must be something important.
With a bitter laugh, he explained, “My dad…he never let us look in it. He always wore this around his neck, but even that wasn’t enough security for him. He’d hide the box, changing the location if he suspected we’d found it. By the time I was old enough to unlock it without the key, I’d come to understand that he deserved his privacy and secrets, so I stopped looking. Zoe, on the other hand…”
“What?” I asked, curious.
With a small, genuine smile curving his lips, he shook his head. “I bet she still looked for the damn thing every time she visited. She was obsessed.”
I felt like I’d been skewered in the chest with dull rapier. “She never told me about it.”
Tucking the key underneath his clothes, Jason laughed softly, but just for a second. “She was probably ashamed. A grown woman…searching through her dad’s underwear drawer…”
“Oh…right…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. Why wouldn’t she tell me about the box?
Fortunately, unlike Chris, Jason left unsaid words and hurt feelings alone. I was grateful; I didn’t want to talk about my simmering emotions. I didn’t want to cry in front of Jason again. I’d thought Zoe and I told each other everything, but his revelation made me question that. The willingness to confide our deepest secrets—our darkest fears—was the foundation of our friendship. Yet, she hadn’t told me about her obsession with her father’s mysterious box. Had I hidden things from her too? I don’t think so…
“Too late, old man,” Jason whispered, breaking me from my mental tailspin. He was studying the back of the picture, reading and rereading the words written by his father. I’d read it so many times that I’d memorized it, though I didn’t completely understand the meaning behind Tom’s words.
Zoe—Be strong. Your mom and I love you and your brother, never doubt that. And remember, every scar is a memory.
Jason—I didn’t listen to the wood—I should have. I’m sorry. I’m so proud of you.
“What?” I asked softly.
Jason began speaking, his words floating ahead of him in the morning fog. “We fought all the time…I’m sure you overheard. He’d wanted me to make certain choices. He forbade me from joining the Army, but I did it anyway. We didn’t talk for nearly a year after that.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
His jaw muscles tensed, and he nodded. “But things were getting better. We didn’t fight as much when I visited, and we even talked on the phone…just to catch up. But he always sounded disappointed when I talked about my career. He used to say, ‘Every piece of wood has a story. If you listen to the wood, the carving will come to life.’”
“So…in this case, you’re the wood?”
Jason looked at me sideways, a deliciously crooked grin tilting his lips, and my cheeks heated. “You know what I mean!” I told him, a little shrill.
After a throaty chuckle, he resumed his gaze ahead. As we passed the empty, overgrown lot where Zoe and I had built a girls-only fort, I knew we were almost to his house. Jason seemed to be searching the increasingly dense fog for its outline, or maybe, for his father.
“Yeah…so he finally accepted me. Accepted my choice. And now he’s gone.”
“I’m sorry, Jason.”
“Me too.”
His familiar house slowly took shape in the mist, steely-blue and boxy, seeming to beckon us forward. We dismounted in the driveway and fenced the horses in the backyard with Jack.
“Let me know if you hear or see anyone,” I told my dog, receiving a bark in acknowledgement.
As we entered the house through the back door, I recalled the thousands of times I’d walked, danced, and ran up and down its halls. My memories were divided into two eras: Jason, and post-Jason. After he’d left for the Army, the walls had always felt a little thinner, the air a little less substantial. And, in not one of my memories of the house was I ever alone with him. Suddenly, the walls felt wild and alive.
I followed Jason as we passed the rooms I was most familiar with—the kitchen, living room, and Zoe’s upstairs bedroom. Something about the way Jason moved, the easy set of his shoulders, spoke to the magic of home. He was relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen him for years.
“Wherever he hides it, it’s always in his room,” Jason said. He led me down the second-floor hallway to the furthest bedroom.
I wanted to help Jason search but simply felt too awkward rummaging through my best friend’s father’s things. “I’m going back to Zo’s room…to see if there’s anything she’d want me to bring to her.”
Jason shot to his feet and purposefully strode out of the room with me close on his heels. He didn’t stop until he reached Zoe’s bedroom. He entered, took a quick peek around, said, “Go ahead,” and then left me alone in the comforting space.
As I soaked up the familiar plum and apple-green décor, I was transported back to my teen years. Practically every other night had been spent giggling with Zoe under the fluffy comforter, gushing about boys and sharing dreams. We’d been so happy…so carefree. Will we ever feel like that again?
I wandered across the room to the bulletin board hanging over the desk. It was covered with a hodgepodge of pins, photos, notes, sketches, and tiny trinkets from throughout Zoe’s life. She’d been collecting memories on that board since before we became friends in fourth grade, and only her favorites stayed up for long. I was staring at a mini museum of my best friend’s life. My best friend who didn’t tell me about the thing she was most obsessed with.
Reaching out, I unpinned one of the sketches—an exact match of the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. It was the drawing we’d taken to the tattoo parlor where we’d had identical Celtic knots inked on our skin, proclaiming our eternal sisterhood. I had no doubt that Zoe would want it.
I set the sketch on the top of the dresser, exchanging it for a framed photo, and sat on the bed, lost in thought. In the picture, we were perched on the edge of a deck, our backs to the camera. My hand was raised to Zoe’s ear, shielding my words as I whispered some extremely important secret to her. Considering we were juniors in high school, it was probably about my latest crush or some juicy gossip. I’d always loved the photo, thinking it captured the essence of our friendship so well—always whispe
ring secrets into each other’s ears. But at the moment, it seemed to shout that I was the one whispering while Zoe kept her secrets inside. Hidden.
“Found it,” Jason said, frowning when I looked up. “Are y—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupted, wiping a lone tear from my cheek.
“Okay…I’m heading into my room. Feel free to join me when you’re done in here.” His eyes lingered on my face for a few seconds before he turned and crossed the hall to his old bedroom.
I wasn’t about to miss the once in a lifetime opportunity to explore Jason’s personal space, so I pulled my unraveling emotions together, tucked the picture frame and sketch into my backpack, and joined him.
Crossing the threshold into forbidden territory felt like pushing through a force field. Tom Cartwright hadn’t redecorated his kids’ bedrooms into impersonal guest rooms like empty-nesters tended to do. He’d kept the spaces exactly as they had been, waiting to welcome Zoe and Jason home at any time. In Zoe’s case, the drawers and closet had been emptied long ago, leaving behind the shell of the girl who had lived there. With Jason, however, it appeared as though he’d still been occupying the bedroom for the past twelve years.
The walls were nearly bare, with only a few pieces of sports memorabilia pinned to their steel-blue surfaces. A faded, masculine scent clung to the air, making me think of the many nights Jason had spent in the room while I’d been hunkered down with Zoe across the hall. I wondered if he’d been alone…or if my middle school mind hadn’t realized he was sneaking girlfriend after girlfriend into his room. Or maybe he’d just climbed down the tree outside of his window and met up with them elsewhere. His epic reputation by the time I’d entered high school—the year after Jason had graduated—suggested that at least one, if not both, was true.
On the wall opposite Jason’s bed, a long shelf displayed several dozen wooden figurines and a few framed photos of his dad and sister. While Jason knelt on the floor, digging through a trunk in his closet, I picked up a miniature carved cat, curled in sleep. It was exquisite.
The Ending Series: The Complete Series Page 36