It would all be so easy. Go back to Keith. Go back to the familiar. Go back to letting him take care of every detail.
I don’t want to. I put my hands to my face, trying to rub the fatigue out of my eyes. “As nice as the beach sounds—”
“Cassie.”
I look up to see Jake glaring down at me from two feet away. He’s standing at an intersection between two rows of blue vinyl booths, gripping the tops of them with white-knuckled hands.
“Jake.”
I glance down, and in a flash I can see how this must look to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Keith holding my hand in his. Ring out and proudly displayed. Me with my hand to my heated face, which has got to be as red as a fire engine.
Oh. No. God, no.
“Jake, I didn’t—”
He licks his lips and crosses his arms. His chest is heaving with what looks like a lot of ragged and angry breathing. “See, the thing is, Cassie, I have to wonder what this all means. Did you decide you were done with me after Mariana came to town? All that stuff about loving me and the way I made you feel special—was that all bullshit, or did none of it fucking matter because you were always going to go back to your boyfriend?”
I spin to face him. “None of that is true.”
“Oh, so you decided you didn’t trust me anymore and then you decided to go back to him?”
“No. You’re angry and you’re making assumptions. Look, can I come by later so we can talk? Please?” Way too late, I realize Keith’s still gripping my hand. I yank it away, but I’m afraid the damage has passed No-return-ville.
“You don’t need to bother,” Jake says. “Congratulations to both of you.” He turns to go, following an older man who holds the door for him as he storms out.
I turn to Keith and swallow an apple-shaped ball of emotions when I see the hurt and understanding play across his face. “I guess you better go explain things to him,” he mumbles.
“I’m so sorry,” I say for what feels like the billionth time as I slap money on the table and run out the door to catch Jake.
He’s gone when I get to the parking lot though, and I’m out in the dark alone.
Jake
Nothing makes you want to tear shit apart with your bare hands like seeing some other guy give your girl a ring. That’s right, I said the words: my girl.
My. Girl. Mine.
My head knows she isn’t and reminds me regularly. She isn’t mine, and she never really was. My head says logical, rational things, like if she’s gone back to her ex, it’s for the best. I’ve talked to my dad about visiting home more, and things will be prickly because of Mariana. She admitted the story was a lie, and she and my dad are splitting. I think she still blames me, so things could get ugly.
Cassie never meant to stay in Evergreen Grove, anyway. This talk of her sticking around? Nothing more than a fantasy. She deserves to go off, finish college, and sow her wild oats or whatever sweet college girls do.
Down in my gut though, the story’s a different one. My arms need to hold her. My skin needs to slide against hers in the dark. My lips need to kiss her mouth and goddammit my dick—as ungentlemanly as it is—needs to be inside her again.
Oh-fucking-well. Went by the Inn on my way home from work. Saw her packing stuff into the car. So I guess she’s gone ahead and decided to leave. It’s good. Honest. She can finish school and reunite with her old flame. I can focus on my family drama.
And now my head’s going in circles. Shit.
I’m working in the driveway, changing spark plugs on the truck, when a blue Buick pulls into the driveway. AJ jumps out, looking tired and leery, like he’s approaching a bear he thinks might attack.
He holds up a tired hand as he comes toward me. “I told Mrs. Choi I thought there was a problem with the car. Do me a favor and give me one or two of those so I have an excuse to have come here.” He points to the box of discarded spark plugs.
I toss one over. “Here. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Cassie’s doing the next open mike at Joe’s. She’s planning to leave the morning after, to stay at her friend Lucy’s in I don’t know, Pennsylvania or North Dakota or something.”
“What?”
“I’m not good with geography. Anyway, she said she wrote a new song for the performance and it’d be too bad if you didn’t get to hear her sing it once. So, you know. I didn’t know if you’d want to know or go say goodbye or anything, but I thought I’d swing by and tell you.”
“You could’ve called.”
He gives me a small smile. “Then I wouldn’t have gotten to see your face to determine how serious you are. She matters to me too, you know.”