The Right Way

by Katie Ashey

  “He never said it,” I whispered.

  “He couldn’t. It wasn’t Jake’s way. He couldn’t even tell Maddie how he felt except in a letter.” He gave me a pointed look. “A goodbye letter.”

  Tears clouded my vision, causing Jonathan to appear blurry in front of me. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For giving me a little bit of hope here at Christmas.”

  A sad smile curved on his lips. “You’re welcome.”

  We were interrupted by the garage door bursting open. Martin and Evelyn both came rushing in with their arms laden down with grocery bags with Jason close on their heels. Our conversation was forgotten as last minute preparations buzzed around the kitchen. A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and I went to get it. It was Evelyn’s parents, Vern and Grace. After exchanging hugs with me, they started on Jason and Jonathan who had come into the living room. Then they headed into the kitchen with the three of us trailing behind them.

  Sniffing the air, Vern nodded his head appreciatively. “The turkey smells divine, Martin. You got a good roast on it.”

  Martin chuckled. “I just picked it up from restaurant.”

  “A man who doesn’t roast his own turkey isn’t a man,” Vern teased.

  Grace playfully swatted his arm. “I hardly consider you yelling, ‘Is it done?’ from the living room roasting your own turkey.”

  Laughter broke out in the kitchen. The boys and I hung back in the kitchen doorway as the older adults discussed the trimmings. Once he appeared satisfied with the menu, Vern stepped from back the others. After glancing back at us, his eyes lit up. “Look at you all standing under the mistletoe,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  He motioned for me to look up. Tilting my head back, I saw a greenish sprig above the archway leading into the kitchen. With everything going on in my life, I’d failed to notice it before. “What are you guys doing with mistletoe?” I couldn’t help asking.

  A girlish giggle erupted from Evelyn. “Martin’s and my first kiss was under mistletoe. Since then, we’ve always had a sprig in the house.”

  Surprisingly, Martin didn’t gruffly dismiss her story. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’ll save the real deal for the mistletoe.”

  “Okay,” she replied breathlessly as both Jonathan and Jason groaned.

  The sweet, endearing moment was shattered when Vern said, “Go on, boys. Give Presley a kiss.”

  My eyes bulged at his suggestion, which caused the others to laugh. Well, Jonathan wasn’t laughing. When I cut my gaze over to him, he appeared as horrified as me.

  Holding my hand up, I countered, “That’s okay. I’m good.”

  “But it’s tradition,” Evelyn said.

  “Come here, Presley,” Jason said.

  With a squeak, I let him pull me towards him. But I soon realized I had nothing to fear about him laying one on me as he planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Merry Christmas, Jason.”

  “Now it’s your turn Jonathan,” Grace said.

  “I’m not sure she would recover,” Jonathan teasingly said.

  “You flatter yourself,” I quipped back.

  With all eyes in the kitchen on us, there was no escaping the moment. While Jason had pulled me towards him, Jonathan kept his distance. Instead, he leaned so far over to reach me I thought he might topple over. When his lips touched my cheek, I sucked in a breath as warmth rushed from the top of my head to my toes.

  While Jason’s kiss had been quick, Jonathan’s lips lingered against my skin. It sent chills running up my arms. I’d never experienced anything like it before. When he pulled back slightly, his intense stare sent heat rushing over me again.

  “Merry Christmas, Presley,” Jonathan murmured, his breath fanning against my cheek.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Wait, what in the hell had just happened? Why was my cheek burning, my heart pounding, and something weird twirling in my stomach? It was a kiss, Presley. A brotherly kiss. Except, I don’t feel particularly sisterly . . .

  Chapter Fifteen: Jonathan

  Three Months Later

  I was in love with a girl. One who made my heart flip-flop whenever she reached out for me. One with chubby cheeks and a gummy grin.

  Evie was the sun to my world—my world revolved completely around her. She truly was the sun—the only real bright light in my life. Sure, there was the upcoming football season to think of, especially since I would be a senior, but it paled in comparison.

  She was the air I breathed.

  I could be having the shittiest day imaginable and one smile from her would change everything. Before she was born, I had to make myself go home on the weekends. Now I found myself constantly working out scenarios of how I could spend time with her not just during the weekends, but during the week as well. I was becoming a stranger most nights in the dorms, and I’d have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to beat the rush hour traffic back into the city for class.

  The more time I spent with Evie meant the more time I spent with Presley. And out of nowhere, that became problematic. One day Presley and I were just going about our lives as friends. Then like the flip of a switch, something changed in the way I saw her. The kiss at Christmas . . . It was so fucking weird. I’d relived that brief peck on the cheek, and it wasn’t even reciprocated. Yet the look on her face . . . confusion . . . but was it almost surprise? Like a good surprise? Needless to say, there had been no more of that. We’d both been pretty shell-shocked throughout Christmas, the first without Jake. Especially for Mom and Dad. I thought I’d feel alone and miss him something horrible. But I’d had Evie, and she helped heal like nothing else.

  But then there had been Presley too. It was almost like she was a stranger to me. Someone new to discover. She didn’t have a past with Jake. She was just here with me in the present.

  Sure, I’d been physically attracted to her before, but I suddenly found myself connecting with her on an emotional level. I blamed the fact I even used the phrase “connecting on an emotional level” on Ziegler. Yeah, I was still seeing him. He was becoming one of my longest relationships. Even though football was over, I still had winter workouts, so it was still hard finding time to talk. Of course, I’d thought by now I wouldn’t have as much to talk about, but with the one year anniversary of Jake’s death coming up, my progress had started “regressing” as Zeigler called it.

  In true avoidance, I had yet to tell him of my evolving feelings about Presley. I could barely admit it to myself, least of all anyone else. In spite of what I might or might not have been feeling for Presley, there was no way I could act on it. Every time I thought of something with her, I didn’t just think about dishonoring Jake. I thought about fucking Henry VIII and his dead brother, Arthur. Damn my history class for putting the thought in my head.

  On Friday afternoon, I breezed through the garage door into the kitchen. My face instantly broke into a grin at the sight of Evie in her little bouncy seat on the kitchen table. If Mom or Presley were in the kitchen, she insisted on being in the thick of everything with them.

  “Hey, Evie Boo,” I said.

  “Hello to you, too,” Mom replied with a grin.

  Once I had Evie in my arms, I leaned in to give her a kiss. “Hi, Mom. How was your day?”

  “Busy. Presley just got home from work, so I’ve had Miss Evie all day.” Mom shook her head. “There’s something to be said for raising kids when you’re young.”

  “Where’s Presley?”

  “She’s upstairs showering. She always likes to get the germs off of her before she holds Evie.”

  “Right.” When I blew raspberries against Evie’s belly, her giggles echoed through her body. The sound was better than a stadium cheering me on.

  “Listen, there’s something I need you to do for me.”

  Easing Evie onto my hip, I said, “Why do I have a sneaking suspicion this has something to
do with helping Dad clean out the playroom to finish Evie’s nursery?”

  “Actually, it’s more for Presley.” She nervously fingered her pearls. “I mean, what I want you to do is for Presley.”

  Unease rippled over me at her request. “What is it?”

  “I want you to take her out.”

  I popped my brows so hard and fast I was sure they’d disappeared into my hairline. “I’m sorry. What did you just ask me?”

  “To take Presley out,” Mom repeated.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.”

  “She never gets out of the house. Whenever she does, she always has Evie with her.” Mom shook her head sadly. “It’s not good for her to stay all cooped up.”

  I shifted Evie to my other arm. “What about her girlfriends? Why can’t she go out with them?”

  “I would rather she stay home than go out with them.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Mom shot me a disapproving look. “Surely, you know the girls she’s friends with.”

  I whistled, which caused Evie to stare up at me. “Epic judgment there, Mom,” I mused.

  “They’re perfectly sweet girls, but you know they’re the last people on earth Presley needs to be hanging out with as a new mother who is trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  While she had a point, I still couldn’t give in. This was such a bad idea. I didn’t need to be alone with Presley in a “date-like” scenario. We needed Evie with us as a buffer or Mom or even Dad. Trying to throw Mom off, I said, “I think you’re forgetting Presley isn’t a big fan of mine.”

  “Nonsense. The two of you have been thick as thieves since Evie’s birth. I’d even venture to say you’re like best friends now.”

  In a way, I couldn’t argue with that. Lately, I’d been spending more time with Presley than I did Noah or my football buddies Cade and Brandon. I’m not sure what that said about me. Before Presley, I didn’t have girls who were friends. I dated girls and slept with them, but I didn’t just hang out with them. Presley and I had found an easy rhythm and spent downtime, when I got that, together. We could constantly rewatch episodes of The Office or Parks and Rec and still laugh hysterically. She even got me to help cook dinner, which in turn led to us watching The British Baking Show. I’m pretty sure the guys on the team would’ve revoked my man card if they knew I was suddenly concerned with soufflés and frosting.

  “That doesn’t mean she would want to go out with me.” Grimacing, I added, “I mean, she doesn’t want to go hang out with me.”

  “You won’t know until you ask.” Mom reached over and took Evie from me. Jerking her chin, she said, “So, go ask.”

  “I thought you said she was showering.”

  “I heard the water turn off on the monitor.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. After kissing Evie’s cheek and being rewarded with a smile, I headed up the stairs. When I got to Presley’s door, I rapped my knuckles against the wood. “Hey, it’s Jonathan.”

  “Come in,” she called.

  The moment I stepped into the room I froze. She was wearing this strapless towel thing that hit just above her knees, and her hair was wet. While I’d enjoyed seeing some of the sorority girls I knew wearing them, I was not prepared for Presley to have one on. “Hey,” she said with a smile.

  I blinked at her. Although I’d seen far more of her than I should have during Evie’s birth and after—even though it had been four months I was still traumatized—I was seriously unnerved by the robe thing she had on. Sure, it covered everything, but I could still see a lot of skin. Like a lot of her really, long legs. A lot of her toned arms. How did she have such good muscle tone? Like, did she work out?

  “Jonathan?”

  “What?”

  Grinning, Presley rolled her eyes. “I asked what was up.”

  “Oh, not much.”

  She eyed me one last time before heading into the bathroom. Grabbing her brush off the counter, she started brushing through the wet strands of her hair. “Is Evie okay?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Then what did you come up here for?”

  “Right. That.” I stuffed my hands in my jean pockets. “I was wondering if you might want to hang out tonight.”

  “Don’t we always hang out?”

  “No. I meant, I thought it could be just the two of us.”

  Presley’s hand stilled on the brush. She cut her eyes from the mirror over to me. “You want to hang out with just me?”

  I nodded. “Mom said she would watch Evie.” At her continued silence, I said, “We could catch a movie that’s not on Netflix.”

  Tossing the brush on the counter, Presley turned to me. “Did Evelyn put you up to this?”

  Shit. She was good. I should’ve guessed she would sniff the bullshit out of my invitation. “No,” I lied.

  “Seriously, Jonathan, you should avoid gambling at all costs because your poker face stinks.”

  Grunting, I replied, “Okay, so what if she put me up to it? I still want to go.”

  Her brows quirked up in surprise. “You do?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “You want to go out with me on a Friday night?”

  With a roll of my eyes, I said, “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I just figured you would have plans with your friends…or a girl.” A girl? When in the hell did I have time to find a girl to hook up with? I had Evie to take care of. Well, technically, I didn’t have to take care of her. Presley was doing that just fine. But I wanted to be with Evie every free moment I had.

  Fuck, when was the last time I hooked up? Before Christmas? No, it was before Thanksgiving. Maybe even Halloween. Fuck. Presley was right. I should be out with a girl. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to be with Presley tonight, and no possible lure of a hookup trumped that.

  “I don’t have plans with either. I have plans with you.” Giving her a pointed look, I added, “If you’re willing.”

  As she nibbled on her lip, she seemed to be mentally warring with herself. But after a few seconds, she said, “Yeah, I am.”

  My heart did a funny flip-flop. Presley and I had a date.

  Chapter Sixteen: Presley

  I had a date.

  I hadn’t had a date in over a year. The last time I’d been out with a member of the opposite sex was prom, and that had been with Jake. And now I had a date with his brother.

  But it wasn’t really a date, was it? It was just Jonathan being coerced by Evelyn to take me out. The emotional shit-show I’d been experiencing lately had worried her. Although she assured me that it was normal, postpartum emotions, I still couldn’t help feeling bad for worrying her.

  At first, I’d been able to hide the crying jags from her. I’d bury my head into a pillow to muffle my screams and cries. But then last week she’d found me one day sitting on the floor of my bathroom sobbing uncontrollably. “I went through the same thing when I had Jonathan,” she had reassured me. It had been equally hard for her since she hadn’t experienced anything after Jason. “I thought I was going to lose my mind, and I had a husband and a wonderful support system. Not to mention I hadn’t just lost my baby’s father.”

  While her comment was supposed to be one of comfort, it merely highlighted for me how I didn’t have a husband or boyfriend and how my mother was absolutely no support. She’d only been back once since Evie was born. Although I often texted or facetimed, she still didn’t seem ready to embrace the idea of being a grandmother. I had Evie, work, Evelyn and Martin—who had been incredible—and sometimes, I even imagined I had a good friend in Jonathan. But he had his own life to lead, and I knew he was hanging around because of how much he loved Evie. So, despite being surrounded by a lot of good and joy, there were times I felt overwhelming sorrow. And I didn’t understand it. Not completely. But . . . I wanted to go out with Jonathan tonight. I wanted to feel like a nineteen-year-old girl, and not just . . . a mom.

  This is a mistake. You said you were giving
up men, and now at the first invitation, you run out the door with your pants on fire.

  It’s not really a date. We’re just hanging out like we always do, but we’re doing it outside the house.

  Since making my decision to leave my old self behind, I often found I had an angel and devil warring on my shoulder. At the moment, the devil was telling me to throw caution to the wind and go wild with Jonathan. Of course, the angel cautioned me of the potential emotional cost.

  Shaking my head, I tried freeing myself of the voices inside in my head. “Where are we going?”

  Jonathan creased his brows in confusion. “I don’t know. I just thought we’d play it by ear. Why?”

  “I just wondered how I should dress.” When he still appeared confused, I said, “You know, like should I wear something casual or dress up.”

  “Oh. I don’t know. I really hadn’t given it much thought.” He scratched the back of his neck. “What would you like to do?’

  “I don’t really care what we do, but I do have a request about where we go.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Can we leave town?”

  “Like a Thelma and Louise road trip?”

  I laughed. “Not that extreme.

  “So just out of Woodstock?”

  Nodding, I replied, “It’s Friday night, and I don’t want to run the risk of seeing a lot of people I know.”

  Jonathan surprised me when his expression clouded over. “What? Are you afraid for people to see you with me?”

  With a horrified gasp, I replied, “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all.”

  Still appearing wounded, he countered, “Then why don’t you want to go somewhere here?”

  “Trust me, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about me.” Exhaling a ragged breath, I added, “If we do something around here, we’re bound to run into someone I know, and for a few hours, I’d like to not feel everyone’s judgement on me.”

  A relieved look came over Jonathan’s face. “I would argue that Woodstock isn’t exactly a small town, but I usually end up running into someone I know when I go downtown. So, I do get what you’re saying.”