Authors: Molli Moran
One Song Away (9 page)
I nod because I’m not sure yet that I can speak and make anything other than unintelligible sounds. I wait for him to leave, but we stay near one another for a few more seconds, like neither of us can bear to move.
“Good.” He takes a huge, deep breath, and then slowly pulls away from me. “Goodnight, Claire.”
“Goodnight,” I say softly, climbing out of the car.
Then he’s gone.
I’m sitting with my legs hanging off the back of the tailgate when my dad hoists himself up and joins me. This bonfire was his idea, but considering he worked a good part of the morning splitting firewood, I think he deserves a break.
I beam at him. “Hey.” We sit in silence for a moment. I’m too content to push for conversation, plus, my dad has always been the quiet type.
He taps my nose with one finger the way he’s always done. “Hi, baby girl.” He cracks open a beer and takes a couple of long swallows before he says anything else. “I think your Boy Scout is having some trouble.”
I follow his gaze to where Jake and Logan are kneeling in front of the fire. Instead of just doing the simple thing, lighting some kindling or paper, they’re trying to start the fire the old-fashioned way. I think it’s adorable they’re trying, even if they aren’t having much luck. Giggling, I take a sip of my soda.
“Seems so, huh?” I wink at my father. “Should you go help them?”
He raises a brow when Jake mutters an impressive string of curses. “Maybe.” He grunts, but hesitates, his green eyes focused on me. “Sophie-Claire, tell me something. Are you happy you moved home?”
Before I answer, I take a moment and really think about his question. I’ve been back in Martinville for about a month now, and I feel better. Maybe not entirely whole or settled yet, but I’m getting there. I miss Nashville with an ache I’m not sure will ever truly subside, but I’m not sure if I’ll get a chance to go back or not. I haven’t forgotten my thought when I arrived here, about putting down roots, so I’ve been trying.
In between working, I’m spending as much time as I can with my family. Mama and I had lunch the other day and went to the farmer’s market today. Cassidy and I recently went to the next town over where they have a huge mall. We tried on clothes and silly hats, bought too much chocolate at an outlet, and generally had a lot of fun. Being surrounded by family and my friends has helped make Martinville start to feel like home again, but there are definitely times when it doesn’t feel real, like when I wake, thinking I’m still in my Nashville apartment, or when I feel totally rootless at random.
For the most part, though, I’m here. And I’m happy. I haven’t talked a lot about Jake and me with my family. Neither of us has mentioned breaking up, but since dinner at his place, our interactions have, to me at least, started feeling much more genuine. He was waiting for me last night with flowers when I got off of work. Being with him—even
with
a looming expiration date—is another reason my moving back hasn’t been
so
bad.
“I am,” I say. My dad smiles. “It’s different than I thought it would be, being here, but in a good way.”
Daddy pats my hand. “Okay.” He pecks my cheek. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
I watch him amble over to join the boys. Wes and Nolan are off somewhere debating the new series of Doctor Who versus the classic series, and Mama and Cassidy are getting the food ready. Dad and Wes cooked and then did the cleaning up last night, so Mama said she didn’t mind getting the campfire food together. We’re just having hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, and dip, but knowing I’m with people I care about makes it sound like a feast.
I really
am
happy to be here. When I left, I thought I was doing the right thing, but my big escape didn’t go how I planned...
Mama talks about everything under the sun while Wes and Daddy pack the trunk and backseat of my car. She’s told me about a new recipe she found for lamb, and all about the crime rate in Nashville. She’s prattled on and on about church, and how the ladies there are praying for me. She’s said everything she can to avoid saying goodbye, but there’s nothing left to load. It’s time.
She starts crying as soon as I put my arms around her.
“Mama…no.” I hold onto her tightly. “Please don’t cry. You’ll see me soon.”
“I know.” Her voice is muffled. “But first Wesley, now you. All my babies are leaving.”
“Not for good.” I pat her back like she used to pat mine when I was little and upset. “Plus Cassidy is here. And I’ll be back for a visit in the fall, anyway.” I pull back, blinking away tears. “Please, Mama. If you keep crying, I’ll cry, and no one wants that.” My voice breaks.
Daddy comes over, his eyes suspiciously shiny. I’m not going as far away as Wes went for college, but you’d think they’re never going to see me again. I’ve been planning this move since the beginning of the year, working and saving, but I don’t think they believed I was going until I started packing. Then again, I’m not really sure
I
believed I was going, but here I am. Ready as I’ll ever be.
I hug Mama again, then Daddy. He takes my mom’s hand; she dabs at her eyes with the tissue in her other hand. Wes and Cass and I all hug. I tell Cassidy that we’re going to video chat and talk on the phone all the time. I’m not sure she believes me, but she nods, and I can tell she’s trying to be brave. We all are.
“Okay.” I take two deep breaths, and then open the door of my car. “I’m gonna hit the road before it’s too late in the day. I’ll call y’all when I get to Nashville.”
“Be careful!” Mama waves her tissue at me. “There’s some money in the console just in case.”
I press another kiss to her cheek then climb into my car. Sloane and I said our goodbyes last night, so I’m ready to leave. I start my engine, but before I get my seat belt on, a vehicle pulls in behind me. I look in my rearview mirror, then feel my eyes widen. It’s Jake. He gets out and jogs over to my car, then drops to his knees at my door.
“Claire,” he says, slightly out of breath, “were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
I thought we had already, but I don’t say that. Staring at him, I wonder what there is left to say. Prom—and my one chance—are behind me. I’m determined to leave my feelings for Jake in a cloud of dust on my way out of this town. I wanted to leave everything behind and start fresh, and I can’t do that if I’m holding on to old hopes.
“Well…” I frown at him, puzzled. “Bye?”
He smirks. “Yeah, okay.” He pulls something out of his pocket. “I got you a going-away present, so you won’t forget to remember me.”
Stunned, I stare at the slender silver chain in his hand. There are two hand-stamped charms on it. One has my initials, and one has his. As if I need a way to remember him, or our bond. He’s branded into me.
I might eventually get over him. I might leave my feelings behind. But I’ll
never
forget him.
“Coop, I can’t take this.” I shake my head as he presses it into my hand. “I don’t need a token.”
Jake smiles, his eyes golden. “Please, Claire? Just so you can look at it from time to time and think of me. You’re my best friend, and no matter what paths life takes us on, I…I want you to remember that. Remember me.”
I can’t deny him this. I’ve never been able to deny him anything. Sighing, I let him put the necklace around my neck and clasp it. Then I brush a kiss across his cheek.
“Thank you, Jake,” I say softly. “I’ll never forget you.”
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jake says quietly.
When I blink, he’s in front of me. It’s jarring, going from remembering him to seeing present-day him standing there. I feel like I have the ghosts of who we were caught in my eyelashes, so I close my eyes for a few seconds, letting out a long breath.
“I was thinking about the day I left.”
He’s frowning when I open my eyes. “You mean the day I nearly had a wreck getting to you in time to say goodbye?”
I poke him in the chest, playing with the necklace. “Hey, don’t blame me for your reckless driving, Mister.” I found the piece of jewelry a few days ago in a keepsake box, and I’ve started wearing it again. Originally, I just wanted to try it on, but as soon as I looked in the mirror and saw it around my neck, I knew I wouldn’t be able to take it off anytime soon. It just feels right to be wearing it again. I see the moment he realizes I have it on, because his whole face brightens.
“You still have it?” He sounds awed.
“I never lost it. Just put it away for awhile.” I stare at him, the present flooding back to overtake the past. The fire is going now, and Daddy has hot dogs roasting. The boys are sitting near us in camp chairs, but for this moment, Jake and I might as well be the only two in existences. My entire focus narrows to just him.
Swallowing hard, he reaches out and gently grasps the charms on my necklace. “I can’t believe you kept this. I didn’t think it could ever mean much to you.”
We’re not even touching, but I feel completely connected to him. I let my gaze drop to the necklace, then I fix my eyes on his. I don’t try to hide anything from him. Not what I felt then. Not what I’m feeling now. I may not be ready to
say
it, but I know I’m feeling more than our pretend relationship allows for. I think maybe I was naïve to ever believe I could keep my feelings out of this.
“It always mattered to me,” I say quietly. “More than I can tell you.” I wonder if he realizes what I’m not saying, because I’m not just talking about the gift he gave me when I left.
He studies my face, and I don’t know what the firelight shows and what it masks on mine. His is partially shadowed, so I can’t read his expression. Suddenly, I realize that I’m in very dangerous territory. I place my hand over his on my charms, then draw it away so I can thread my fingers through his.
“Come on, Coop.” I squeeze his hand, and jut my chin toward the bonfire. My mom and sister are bringing out the food, and it smells fantastic. Until I’m sure I’m ready, I can drop hints, but I don’t know if I can just blurt out how I feel—especially if it may be only me who feels this way. “Let’s go eat.”
This is safe. I pull him toward my little family and his, none of whom have any idea about our exchange, or the war currently being waged between my head and my heart. Mama smiles at the sight of us holding hands. Logan starts teasing us, so we separate, and each find ways to help get the food ready. I sit with Mama and Cassidy, and Jake sits with his brothers and mine. It’s safe. It’s normal. My heart slowly returns to a regular beat.
But I feel Jake’s eyes on me throughout the night.
Every time I glance his way, he’s looking at me. I feel the heavy weight of his scrutiny even when I’m talking to my little sister about how school is going, or when Wes starts trying to convince Jake to give Doctor Who a chance. For the rest of the evening, Jake and I aren’t alone, but whatever energy we created earlier lingers, flickering in the firelight, warming me like the flames do.
And no matter how hard I try to pretend everything is fine and normal, I feel it all the way to my bones: a tipping, a tilting, and a very decided turning point. Away from rehearsed lines and toward something new, something terrifyingly real.
I’m sitting on my balcony, working on song lyrics, when the purr of an engine alerts me to Jake’s arrival. I scribble a few thoughts beside the chorus of my work in progress, and then close my songbook. This one is about being on your own, something I didn’t write a great deal about while I lived in Nashville. I tried, but nothing ever felt genuine. I don’t want to write radio-driven songs. I want to write from the heart.
Tossing my book into my purse, I slip on my sandals and go inside. I’m turning off lights around the apartment when I hear the knock at the door. Teenage Jake used to wait for me in the car and honk, probably the only thing he ever did that pissed off my dad. Adult Jake comes to the door every time he picks me up, and I can admit that I like it. He has the same old charms and dangerous smiles, but an improvement in manners and several other areas. I like this version. I want to keep him…if I can. More than I’ve realized until recently.
I hope he wants to keep me, too.
Opening the door, I let him inside. He’s wearing nice clothes for brunch with his family, so I’m glad I dressed somewhere between formal and “I’m spending today on the couch.” I haven’t seen his parents since I moved back, and even though they’re the least judgmental people I know, I still want to make a good impression.
“Morning!” I sing the word at Jake, rushing to turn off my TV.
“Mornin’.” He grunts the word. He has one hand behind his back, and he extends it now. “I brought you something.”
I can barely take my eyes off the beautiful bouquet of flowers—the second in recent days—long enough to stammer a “thank you” and then I’m off, rushing around to find a vase and fill it with water. The flowers are gorgeous. I fuss with them once I have them arranged on my coffee table. Jake takes off his sunglasses slowly, but I don’t really think about it until I finally stop what I’m doing.
My jaw drops before I can school my reaction. “Oh my gosh! What happened?”
He doesn’t look at me as he rubs his jaw. “I, uh, had a bit too much to drink last night.”
“And?” I fold my arms across my chest, waiting.
“Got in a bar fight.” He mumbles the words without looking at me, but I can still hear him plainly.
His eye is
hideous
. All mottled and bruised, mostly closed. I can tell it hurts, because he’s very rigid. Good. He deserves to hurt, the dumbass. Of course, I won’t say anything like that to
him
because chances are he already feels like shit in more ways than one. I can think it, though.
“Coop.” I shake my head. “Are you okay other than the shiner?”
“My pride hurts worse than anything.” He gives me a lopsided smile, but then grimaces.
Sighing, I stride over to him. I put a hand on the side of his face, walking my fingers toward the injured area. I stop before I touch his black eye, because I know the area is probably tender.
“Why did you get in the fight?”
Jake’s shoulders bunch up. “Someone was talkin’ shit about Logan and Aunt Caroline.” His brows draw together. “I knew I had to do something, but my plan didn’t exactly include a fight. I took it as long as I could. Sat there and got drunk. Stewed. Finally just went and started shit with the guy. I got a few good hits in, then he clocked me. Nolan had to drag me outta there.” The words ooze out, his drawl more prominent.
“So I can’t even be mad at you,” I say. And I can’t. I hate that he got into a fight, and I hate that he got hurt, but he was essentially defending his aunt and cousin. Logan never knew who his dad was, and he takes a lot of flak for it. Caroline Cavanaugh is one of the sweetest women I’ve ever known. She and Mama are good friends. Caroline may have made mistakes in her life, but Logan wasn’t one of them.
I know Jake has always thought of Logan as more of a brother than a cousin. I’ve always admired him because of his devotion to his family. He took Logan under his wing when Logan was just a kid, and the Coopers helped Caroline as much as she would let them, from what I understand. Jake hates to hear anyone talking badly about her or about Logan.
Jake winces. “I should have handled it better.”
“Probably.” I inflict as much seriousness as I can in my tone, but I can’t hold a stern expression. “Jake, am I going to have to stay with you twenty-four-seven?”
He meets my gaze. “I think so.” He laces his fingers through mine. “Would you? If I asked you?”
We’re connected at two points—his hand in mine, and mine on his face. My heartbeat kicks up at his words, and I feel vulnerable. Ever since the family bonfire a few days ago, I’ve felt our connection intensify, but I haven’t been certain if it’s just me. We’ve talked at work and hung out after, but we haven’t been on any dates. I haven’t had any opportunities to test my theory: that our fake relationship is turning into a real one.
I look at him through my lashes. “Would you want me to stay?” I’m giving him the easiest opportunity in the world to turn this however he wants to. If he gives me a flirtatious or teasing answer, I’ll know he’s just playing his role a little too well. If he gives me an earnest answer…I’ll fall for him all over again.
A smile touches his mouth and he squeezes my hand. “Of course. You’re my girl.” He says it like it’s the simplest, truest answer he knows.
Leaning into him, I kiss his cheek. I don’t dare more than this, not with my heart beating fast as a propeller, not with my palms sweating, not with my heart as light as air. I let my lips linger on his skin, brushing against the beginning of stubble. There’s no mistaking his words, no denying their meaning. There’s no reason for him to pretend here, when we’re alone. Eliminating the impossible from the situation leaves…the possible.
Is it
so
crazy to think he might finally want me, too? For so long I lost sight of everything else because I was fixed on this one thing: on Jake loving me. Why
couldn’t
he love me, now that I’ve grown and changed, and am learning how to love myself no matter what others think? Why is it impossible for me to think he could look beyond my piercings and see the heart that has always beat for him?
Or am I reaching? Am I reading into sweet moments and looking for more? We’ve always shared the sort of intense bond that’s flaring between us again, and it was never more than friendship before…
I’m just about to pull away when he turns his head slightly. His mouth grazes mine, and his arm curls around my waist. We’re very close. Close enough to see his good eye and the unmistakable gleam of desire there. I’ve noticed his reactions to me changing, but he hasn’t looked at me quite like this before. Before now, he’s always shuttered his gaze, made a joke, or seemed to somehow temper himself. This time he doesn’t. There’s something raw and sensual in his eyes, and it goes to my head like a strong drink.
“Jake,” I say, already a little breathless. “What about brunch?”
He tangles a hand in my hair, and crowds me. “Fuck brunch.”
I worked for hours taming and curling my hair, but right now I don’t care. All I want is Jake. So I let him tilt my head back so his kiss lands on my collarbone. I let him fasten his mouth there, and I let myself enjoy the pull of his lips on my skin. The pressure he creates spirals inward, then down. By the time he maneuvers us so my back is against the wall, my hands are fisted in his shirt. When he turns his attention to my pulse point, I actually go weak-kneed.
Jake puts his hands on my hips and his mouth at my ear. “You drive me crazy, Claire. The sounds you make. The way you touch me.”
A shudder ripples through me. In answer, I slide my hands under his shirt. I feel his muscles flexing, and I have to bite my lip to keep from taking this too far. What we’re doing feels wonderful, but I’m not ready for more. I’m not afraid of him taking it too far, because Jake wouldn’t do that, but I still need to say something.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for…” I bit my lip and then force myself to say it. “I’m not sure I’m ready for sex, Coop.” I’m enjoying the hell out of this moment, but whatever is happening here, I don’t want to move too fast and end up with regrets. The bonfire felt like a turning point, but I need to be sure we’re real before we go too far.
He pulls just far enough away so I can see his eyes and nods, letting me know he’s received the message. And then he kisses me. Finally.
Jake Cooper’s kisses should be illegal. Might be, in other parts of the world, considering he traveled everywhere while he was gone. Between the strong grip he has on me, and the way he alternates between gently drawing my upper lip between his teeth and doing things with his tongue I didn’t know were possible, I’m panting. Jake gently turns my head so he can kiss my neck. He kisses his way to my earlobe, pulling it into his mouth, and sucking lightly.
His hand drops to my breast. I feel his touch through my dress. I crave it. And that scares me. I search his eyes, but all I see is the same want I feel. There’s nothing more in the world I’d rather do than lead him to my couch or down the hall to my bedroom, but that would definitely be too far, too fast. We may both be feeling something real, but there’s no reason to rush into sex. Exploration is good, though.
He slides his hand into my jeans. I don’t try to stop him. When he touches me through my panties, I arch my hips against his hand. Jake hisses a breath, and at the same time, starts to tug at the waistband of my panties. I don’t stop him. I want him to touch me. I think I
need
him to touch me.
Then his phone rings. Swearing loudly, he rests his forehead against mine. I straighten my clothes as he answers, apologizing and telling his mom we’ll be there shortly. When he ends the call, he glances at me, a rueful smile on his lips.
“I guess we should go.”
I sigh, but slip my hand into his. “Lead the way.”
___ ___ ___
“So, Sophie-Claire,” Mrs. Cooper says, pushing a perfectly coiffed strand of hair behind her ear, “how are you enjoying working at Freshly Ground?”
I pat my mouth with my napkin before I answer. The Coopers are laid back, but their home is still the nicest place I’ve ever been. They have a large, very nice home. I wouldn’t call it a mansion, but it’s definitely not shabby. Growing up, I thought it was a museum, because it always lacked the slightly messy, lived-in look I always associated with my home.
“I was pleasantly surprised,” I say. “I had worked in food service before, but never at a coffeehouse. It was a learning experience, and I burned myself a few times, but all in all, Freshly Ground is a great place to work.” I smile at her, and then wink at Jake. “Your son is a wonderful boss to everyone. He’s always doing little things to inspire us and show us he really values his employees.”
It’s true. In Nashville, everywhere I worked had a fairly high turnover. Employees felt like they were part of a machine. Jake just has the magic touch, though. He’s a natural leader and he brings that to Freshly Ground. He never calls anyone out in public, and no one has quit since I started. Most everyone who works there comes to work happy, and even though we all have our differences, we work well as a team. It’s awesome to be part of it.
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
Jake smiles at me, but focuses on his plate. He’s so different from earlier, when he was basically making me melt. I’ve never seen him almost bashful before. He’s been quiet through the meal. It’s just his parents, Logan, and us. If Jake has been reticent, Logan has been the opposite. He hasn’t stopped talking—about school, about baseball and how the high school team is doing, about the car he’s saving to buy. I know his aunt and uncle would buy him whatever he wanted today, but it makes me smile to hear him talk about earning his wheels. Logan’s a good kid. He talks a big game, but he has a huge heart. I know Jake did the right thing defending him.
Mrs. Cooper stands and collects everyone’s plates. I rise before she can wave me away and go behind her, gathering what she can’t get, and following her into the kitchen. She has help come in once a week and do a thorough cleaning of the house, but she does the day-to-day duties herself in between her work with various local charities. She was a medical assistant for years, but Jake told me that she retired early since his father is getting ready to run for mayor. They’re throwing a big gala soon to announce his candidacy and gain support.
“Thank you, Sophie.” She opens the dishwasher, then takes the rest of the dishes from me and starts rinsing them. I join her and reach into the side of the sink filled with soapy water. “You didn’t have to help, but I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I can do, Mrs. Cooper.” I smile at her then turn back to my work, loading a few plates. “You invited me to your home, made this awesome meal, so I should help. My mom raised me to pitch in.”
“Call me Shannon, please.” She takes a delicious looking chocolate cake from the fridge. “No more Mr. and Mrs. Cooper. You’ve known us too long for formality.” She sets the cake down and puts her hands on her hips. “Besides, anyone who makes my son as happy as you do gets to use my first name.”
I duck my head at the compliment, and finish loading the dishwasher. If she’s noticed it, that’s just more proof to add to my slowly growing hypothesis that it isn’t just me feeling this attraction, but this hope is so new, I want to protect it.