Stay With Me

by Cross, Cassie

  I manage a sentence before my mind wanders, and words turn into mindless doodles pretty quickly as I lose my train of thought. I close my eyes and breathe in the crisp, clean air, relishing how quiet it is. Four years of living in New York’s constant traffic, sirens, and general noise made me forget how calming sitting outside can be. My apartment is in a low-key neighborhood in the Upper West Side, but there’s still city everywhere I go.

  Here in the vineyards of Virginia, it’s easy to remember what stillness is like.

  The quick crunch of gravel under shoes pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look to see Jackson jogging along the perimeter of the lake. In the faint light from the lanterns strung along the trail, I can tell he’s been at it a while. His shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging to his chest.

  I get a little bit lost in the view. So lost, in fact, that I only realize I’ve been staring when he veers off into the grass and runs in my direction.

  For a brief moment I consider fleeing, pretending like I haven’t seen him and heading back inside. But it’s too late for all that. My porch is dimly lit, but he wouldn’t be headed over here if he hadn’t already seen me.

  The rational part of me understands that I can’t keep running away from him forever.

  I guess this is it.

  Jackson slows to a walk as he approaches. He has the courtesy to knock on the door instead of opening it without invitation.

  “Is it okay if I come in?”

  I push myself upright in the chair, heart pounding. “Yeah, sure.”

  He steps onto the porch, gently closing the door behind him. He leans against a support beam, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt clings in all the right places, and coupled with his pose, it’s a look that really works for him.

  It works for me too, if I’m being completely honest.

  “Are you gonna hide from me the whole time we’re here?”

  “Wow, you’re just…you’re getting right to the point, aren’t you?”

  “It’s been four years. I figure it’s time.”

  “I’m not hiding from you,” I argue, even though it’s kind of a lie. Flat-out hiding from him is pretty much impossible in this situation.

  Jackson narrows his eyes, letting me know that excuse isn’t gonna fly.

  “I haven’t! I’ve been…strategically exiting conversations with you.”

  That gets a smile out of him.

  “Look,” he sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “I know things didn’t end well between us, and I don’t blame you for being mad at me. Or for avoiding me. I’m just…I owe you an apology and an explanation. I don’t want things to be awkward while we’re here.”

  Seeing Jackson like this, offering an olive branch, wanting to make things right…it’s difficult not to open up a little in return.

  “I’m not mad at you,” I admit softly, glancing down at my lap. “I was for a long time. I wish it didn’t still hurt, but it does, so…I’m trying to deal with it the best I can.”

  When I meet his gaze, Jackson’s chewing on his bottom lip. He looks hesitant, like he’s trying to think of the best thing to say that won’t shake this delicate truce.

  Before long, the silence becomes almost unbearable. “You’re running again,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

  He glances down at his sweaty shirt. “Yeah. After the accident, when the doctors told me they didn’t think I’d ever be able to do it again…when I finally got tired of being pissed off at the world, I decided I was going to prove them wrong.”

  I smile. “That sounds like you. Looks like you’re doing well.”

  His eyes fill with understanding at what I’m getting at without saying it. He seems fully recovered, and there was a time when that didn’t seem likely.

  “I am. Some days are better than others. The pain is an absolute bitch sometimes—especially when it rains—but…I’m doing okay.”

  “Good.” I mean it. Even though things weren’t great between us at the end of our relationship, I’ll always want the best for him. “I called your mom to check in a couple times a week for a while. But I stopped, because it got to be too much.” Once it became clear that our breakup was real and final, I knew I needed to try to let go for my own good.

  Jackson slowly nods. “Those weren’t good times. I, uh…I wasn’t the best or nicest person to be around. You should be glad you weren’t there.”

  His words slice through me, reopening old wounds. I blink away my tears and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yeah, well…I wanted to be there. You made that decision for me.”

  He presses his lips together, looking down at his feet. “Bird, I don’t want to fight.”

  “Then let’s not fight.”

  He starts to say something, but nods toward the notepad on my lap instead. “Working on a new book?”

  Instinctively I flip it over, not wanting him to look closer and see the page is full of doodles and not words.

  “Some things never change,” he mutters under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “You like living in New York?”

  “Yeah. Not having a car makes shopping tricky, but I like being able to walk everywhere. I like not having to drive a car. I like my apartment. I love the pizza place down the block.”

  Jackson laughs at that. “Glad to see your pizza obsession is still going strong.”

  “Stronger than ever.” A beat passes. “And you? You’re in DC?”

  “Yeah, the suburbs.”

  “Doing contracting work?”

  He nods. “Once I was feeling better, my dad used some connections to get me a few small jobs so I could get back into the swing of things and earn some money before I went back to school. But…I never did, and the work kind of stuck.”

  “Do you still think about going back?”

  “I’m twenty-seven, Birdie. Imagine me in a lecture.”

  He loved studying architecture so much, what I can’t imagine is that passion dying out. “Okay, I’m imagining it.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “You wanted so badly to be an architect, to take over your dad’s business when he retired. What changed?”

  He lets out an incredulous laugh. “Everything changed.”

  “You only have one semester left,” I argue. “That’s nothing.”

  “Yeah, well, some things don’t work out the way we planned,” he replies bitterly.

  Can’t argue with him there.

  He pushes off the post he was leaning on and hikes his thumb toward his cabin, which is right next to mine. “I should probably let Sam out before I turn in.”

  “Okay,” I reply, giving him an out before this turns into the argument I was trying to avoid. “‘Night.”

  “‘Night.” I watch him as he jogs across the yard. He gives me one last lingering look before he opens the door and calls for the dog.

  I go inside, tossing my notepad and pen on the dresser. I crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling, desperately trying to ignore the lingering ache in my chest.

  Chapter Six

  Being stuck inside when I’d much rather be outside really sucks, even when the inside is the gorgeous main house at Ayanna’s bed and breakfast. Wifi is up and running, so I could go out and lounge by the lake with my laptop, but if I do that I’ll get distracted by the fun everyone’s having. I know myself well enough to admit that I’ll give myself five minutes for a quick swim, and that five minutes will become ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Then I’ll never get back to work.

  The kind waitress keeps my coffee topped up, guaranteeing herself the biggest tip imaginable. I need all the caffeine I can get after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, thinking about my talk with Jackson. I feel like the gap between us is even wider than it was before and I don’t know if we can fix it. I don’t know if we should even try.

  I’ve spent the past few years unable to get over him because things still feel so unfinished between u
s. Maybe I should focus on getting some closure.

  What I need to focus on right now is my work. Writing feels like pulling teeth, but my inbox is overflowing. I can at least manage replies to my emails.

  I got a later start than I intended this morning. Miranda and Mateo arrived just before 7, and I ran into the two of them on my way to the main house to get some breakfast. We spent some time catching up, and they’re both exactly as I remember them. They balance each other out, and are as head-over-heels in love with each other as they were when I first met them.

  I’m glad it worked out for one couple in our group.

  A high-pitched shriek pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn just in time to see Mateo laughing as he tosses Miranda into the lake. Audrey and Ayanna are huddled together in lounge chairs, poring over a magazine.

  Seeing all my friends together like this makes me smile. It also makes me wish I was out there with them, but there’s still a little more work to do.

  I came out here to see the property and celebrate Miranda and Mateo’s engagement, but there’s a part of me that’s hoping being around them again will reignite the inspiration that I had back when we spent our weekends here together. That they’ll restart that creative fire in me that used to burn so brightly back in college. I’m hoping that being with these people who helped me become the person I am will pull me out of this rut.

  It’s terrifying that my whole livelihood depends on something that isn’t coming as easily as it used to, leaving me wondering if I’m ever going to get that spark back.

  I hit send on an overdue response to my agent just as the door leading out to the back porch opens and Jackson walks in.

  He didn’t show up for breakfast, but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this morning. He was up at dawn, taking Sam on a jog around the property. With as often as he runs, the exercise must be doing something for him mentally as well as physically.

  Maybe I should give it a try. Maybe running would knock loose some of the inspiration that feels so elusive to me now.

  Jackson looks good this morning in his faded jeans paired with a blue t-shirt that’s doing amazing things for his upper body. Damn him for making it so hard to keep my eyes off of him.

  He sits down at the table across from mine and takes the seat that’s facing me. The waitress makes a beeline for him since I’m her only other customer. He politely declines her offer of coffee, opting for OJ instead. He never did care for caffeine, and my addiction to it was something he constantly teased me about when we were together.

  It’s amazing how much you can miss something you thought was annoying when you don’t have it anymore.

  I studiously pay attention to the remaining emails that need replies. My gaze is laser-focused on my laptop, but I feel Jackson looking at me. I wage a small internal battle, flip-flopping about whether or not I should invite him over to sit with me.

  Actually, this is kind of the way we met. The first week of college, he sat at the table across from me in the dining hall during that lull between breakfast and lunch. I was reviewing some notes I’d taken and eating a stale leftover donut when I glanced up and saw him.

  He was as gorgeous then as he is now with his friendly face and welcoming smile. I was still having trouble being away from home and didn’t know as many people as I’d have liked. So I thought I’d take a chance on becoming friends—or more than friends—with the hot guy.

  If only I’d known then how much that decision would change my entire life.

  Part of me wonders if this one will have the same kind of impact. I can’t help but say the same thing I did that morning.

  “If you’re going to stare at me, at least do it from over here,” I tell him, pointing at the other seat at my table. “It’s less creepy that way.”

  Jackson’s mouth quirks up with a soft smile. He pushes his chair back and grabs his glass, then walks over to me and takes a seat with a gleam in his eyes that tells me he remembers.

  “Working in here instead of outside having fun with our friends?” he says with a quirked brow before taking a sip of his juice.

  “I have some work to catch up on. And that’s rich coming from someone who’s in here with me.”

  He sighs as he glances out the window at everyone splashing around in the lake. Audrey’s treading water, trying to coax Sam into jumping off the pier.

  He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t go shirtless in public anymore. Swimming’s not my thing.”

  My breath catches. I hadn’t even thought about why he might not be out there. He got into a car accident that nearly killed him; of course there are scars. I feel like an inconsiderate jerk.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  He shrugs off my apology. “You didn’t know.”

  I try not to let that get to me. I could’ve known, if he’d let me stick around. If he’d let me be there for him when he was recovering.

  “Are you writing?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  I shake my head. “Answering emails. It’s the least glamorous part of this whole operation.”

  He leans forward. “I’m really happy that you’ve been successful with your writing. You put so much time and effort into it when we were together…I’m glad it worked out.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” Jackson turns his glass counter-clockwise. “Tell me more about contracting.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. I get up in the morning, build some stuff for whoever’s paying that day, then I go home.”

  Him being so void of emotion when talking about the thing he spends most of his day doing—when I know there’s something else out there he enjoys and can earn a living with—breaks my heart. This isn’t the Jackson I remember, the passionate, driven guy who never got tired of learning. I suppose that accident took more from him than I thought.

  “Jackson,” I breathe. “Are you happy?”

  He watches me for a long, charged moment. Neither one of us can tear our eyes away from the other. I’m caught up in that something still lingering between us.

  I hate it. I can’t get enough of it.

  This thing is going to be what gets me in trouble if I’m not careful.

  He shakes his head, pulling me out of the moment. “I should get out there and get Sam,” he says as he stands. He walks away, but only makes it a few steps before he turns. “We’re all going down to Ruby’s later. You coming?”

  Ruby’s is Dandelion Gap’s own watering hole, a place that we spent a lot of time in once we all came of age. Ruby treated us like we were her own kids, and it will be good to see her again.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Seven

  Piling into Mateo’s compact SUV to go to Ruby’s seemed like a good idea when we were doing it, right after he’d volunteered to be tonight’s designated driver. We’d be too cramped in Ayanna’s car, and Audrey’s barely manages to safely transport one person, let alone six. The only other option was to climb into the bed of Jackson’s pickup truck and hope no one got ejected if we hit a pothole or something.

  In practice? Maybe Jackson’s truck would’ve been the better choice.

  Mateo’s driving and Jackson’s in the passenger seat, the only spot in this car that can comfortably accommodate his tall frame. Miranda, Ayanna and I are in the back seat. Because Audrey’s the smallest, she’s hunkered down in the cargo area, her arms splayed along the back of our seat, her head popping out between Ayanna and Miranda’s.

  “Does Ruby’s still have karaoke?” Audrey asks excitedly. She loves karaoke, and is absolutely terrible at it.

  “It’s still there, but you aren’t singing,” Ayanna replies.

  “Ruby will give me the mic.”

  I wish I was as confident about anything in my life as Audrey is about her ability to sing.

  “Not if she wants to keep her customers.”

  Jackson turns and says, “No offense Aud, but there isn’t enough liquor in that pl
ace to make your singing sound good.”

  Audrey huffs, crossing her arms and slumping against the hatchback. I contort my body in a way that allows me to give her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

  “You believe in me,” she replies dramatically.

  “I love you, but you’re terrible.”

  Miranda grins. “Remember that Spring Break in Cancun when Audrey got shitfaced, stood on a bar, and broke a glass when she tried to hit that high note? I can’t even remember what song it was.”

  “I did not!” she exclaims, incredibly offended.

  Mateo chimes in. “You broke glasses. Plural.”

  “The waiter tripped!” Audrey argues.

  “Because your shrieking—and yes, that was shrieking—startled him so badly he tripped over a table. I don’t know that this is a great rebuttal,” I tease.

  Audrey purses her lips together, fighting a smile. “You guys are bullies.”

  Ayanna turns to her. “We’re just looking out for the greater good of the community. And I need some of the people who go to Ruby’s to come to my place, too.”

  “If she takes the stage at Ruby’s, maybe they’ll come over to the B&B for some peace and quiet,” Jackson says with a chuckle.

  The argument dies out as we pull into the nearly full parking lot. Being one of the few places to eat within a 20-mile radius makes it a popular destination, even on the weekdays.

  We get out of the car, and Mateo stays back to answer a work call as the rest of us walk into the restaurant together. It’s an older place that’s not quite a dive, but is well on its way to becoming one. Still, there’s something comforting and familiar about it. There’s a bar along the back wall, tables scattered throughout, and, unfortunately for all of us here tonight, a fully functioning karaoke stage in the corner. Occupying it right now is an enthusiastic middle-aged woman who’s clearly in her cups, screeching along to an old country standard.

  No one’s paying her any mind.

  Being a large group of relatively young people, we draw the eyes of the other customers as we walk in. Ruby perks up behind the bar, looking exactly as I remember her: bleach-blonde hair piled on top of her head in a twist, skin-tight red t-shirt, and a towel thrown over her shoulder.