Checking in. I’m sure he wants to know what I’ve decided about the car. Even I’d like to know what I’ve decided. I’ve been in this town for a couple of weeks now, and that’s roughly how long I thought it would take me to drive to the coast and then across the country. Somewhere in there, I thought I’d find a place to settle down.
Instead, my road trip stalled in Evergreen Grove. The car thing seems too good to be true. I don’t know how to answer.
I glance at Michelle, who’s still waiting for an answer about coming with her to the support group. I can almost see the grief surrounding her, like a living thing.
So I tell her, “Hey, yeah, I’ll go with you on Tuesday.”
Her smile makes me feel like I’m starting to make the right decisions for a change.
10. NOT A THING
Jake
Cassie’s reply to my text gives me the feeling she’s being deliberately dense: Ten-four good buddy!
So I ask her: Do you even know what that means?
I have absolutely no idea.
I collapse mid-push-up on a gym mat when I see her response, I’m laughing so hard. “Well, at least she admits it.”
“Admits what?”
Dante’s managed to creep up behind me. I think he’s trying to look over my shoulder while he grabs a weight off the dumbbell rack.
“That you’ve got a boundary problem and it’s none of your fucking business, dude.”
He laughs and lays back on a padded bench to do chest presses. “Ah. Yeah. Not like that was any kind of news.” One press. Two. Three. “And since I’m shit at mindin’ my own business...” Four. Five. “I might as well mention...” Six. Seven. Eight. “Got a flat the other day. Went over to have your guys patch it at the shop, and some shady dude came in looking for a Jackson Christian.”
Swear to Christ all the sweat on my body turns to ice right then and there. “Yeah?” I force myself to lower down slow, one rep and then another, continuing going with the pushups even though my arms are shaky. All of me is. “Fuck.”
“I thought the same thing.” Dante puts back the dumbbells and grabs a heavier set. Eyes on the prize, like we’re having nothing more than an informal chat. “I know you’re not a CIA spy or anything, but it sounds similar enough to the name you go by now, other people might wonder.”
“Names sound similar all the time.” I pass behind him to grab a drink of water, arms still wobbly like noodles. I went well over my usual number today.
“Not in this town.” He’s breathing harder as he pushes out four... five... six reps with those dumbbells and then curls himself up.
I wipe the water from my mouth. “Looks like you’re out to pack on muscle.”
He smiles. “Always.” He puts back the weights and takes a long pull from his water bottle. “So this guy, in case you’re wondering, I told him I didn’t know anybody by that name. I also suggested the Holiday Inn up the road in La Porta had really comfortable rooms in case he needed a place to stay before he left town. Didn’t know if you wanted to try and track him down.”
That’s... wow. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what to say.”
Shit. Dante helped me out, and I don’t even know why. I mean, we’ve been friends ever since we met on the amateur boxing circuit when I was seventeen and he wasn’t much older, but we’ve never been close. I can tell Dante’s got his demons, and I try not to judge. I’ve got no room. Still, I don’t know if I would have thought of him as someone who had my back.
Plus, I kind of dicked him around the other night when he was hitting on Cassie. The night she kissed me. If I were him, I’d have been pissed.
I swear, when I let myself remember, it’s like her stomach is brushing against mine. Her tongue is licking into my mouth all over again. Shit, you’d think I’d never gotten laid.
The trouble is, I have. I’ve gotten laid plenty. It’s not ego talking. But getting off and rolling over is a whole lot different than what Cassie promised that night. She said she wasn’t looking for anything, but that wasn’t what I saw in her eyes.
Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was the one looking for something more.
The only “real” book I ever read in school was Alice in Wonderland. Swear to fuck, kissing Cassie felt like peeking through the door into that amazing garden from the book, and wondering how to get there. Except I know I can never go.
Across the room, Dante’s chalking up his hands underneath the pull-up bar. He’s looking at me with a grin that says he’s got something on me, and the trouble is I know he does. I don’t know why he did me that favor, but I’m afraid he’s about to say so.