Rocky’s jaw twitches and he nods once.
“Okay,” he says softly. “You win. I will walk away. And I will meet every other one of your conditions.”
He meets my eyes again and they are soft now, reminiscent of the man I once loved. It makes my heart ache, because as much as I appreciate Rocky’s support, he’s not the man I want sitting here with me. Worse, the memory of what we once shared only highlights the grim reality that I didn’t know what true love was until Jesse. I love that man and I think I always will. Even if that love story has come to an end, it’s left me permanently altered.
Still, I am battered but not broken. I have finally learned my lesson. I’m ready to take the next step forward, and I’m never going to let love be a reason to compromise any part of myself again. Onward and upward.
I nod toward the house.
“Want to come inside?” I ask. “Stay for a family dinner?”
Rocky’s features melt into genuine relief.
“I’d like that.”
36JESSE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
The smell of Marissa’s shampoo on my pillowcase pulls me out of a dreamless sleep. I keep my eyes squeezed shut as I shift slowly into consciousness, savoring the floral scent. A sense of serenity I haven’t felt in ages washes over me as I press my face into the fabric, breathing it in. But as the layers of unconsciousness peel away, the rational (traitorous) part of my brain takes over, reminding me that this isn’t possible. It’s been months since Marissa was in my bed, and any lingering trace of her has long since vanished.
In fact, these aren’t even the same sheets she slept in. After she left, I couldn’t seem to shake the scent of her, no matter how many times I washed the bedding. Eventually I gave up and replaced them with the first pair I found at Walmart. They aren’t nearly as soft as my old ones, but at least they haven’t waged psychological warfare on me. That is, until today.
Reluctantly, I drag one eye open. It’s bleak outside, the fifth consecutive day of rain. The sky is streaked with gray, and a single raindrop slides morosely down the windowpane. Perfect weather for my mood.
I roll over to glance at my alarm clock. It’s 8:37AM. I told TobyI’d meet him at the café at nine.Fuck.I bury my face in the pillow, which definitely does not smell like Marissa. I’d love to bail, but the last time I tried that, he barged into my bedroom with his marching band snare drum.
From the foot of the bed, Diesel rolls over, looks me square in the eye, and lets out a loud, gratuitous fart.
“Was that really necessary?” Diesel glares back at me, making his intentions clear. He’s been salty ever since Marissa left, like he somehow knows it’s my fault.
With a resigned groan, I force myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m in my truck and headed to the café. My wipers swat listlessly at the endless sheets, and when the light turns red, I drop my head back against the headrest and stare out the window. Through the glass, the town looks the same as it always does. And why wouldn’t it? This place is a relic, practically frozen in time. I used to like that about it. No matter what else goes on in the world, my hometown is reliably consistent, as worn in as an old pair of jeans. Decades slide by, but we’ll always have the same dive bars, the same roadside ice-cream stand, even the same William Shatner billboards. Nothing here ever changes.
The only problem is that it’s not exactly true. Things aren’t like they always were. Not since Marissa Morganstern barged into town last summer. Since then, nothing has been the same.
Behind me, an impatient horn blares, and I realize the light turned green while I’ve been lost in my own thoughts. I swear under my breath as I shift the truck into drive and make my way to the cobblestone parking lot.
My brother is already sitting at a table near the front when I step inside. I’m surprised to see Shelby and Charlotte with him.
“Toby didn’t mention you guys were coming,” I say as I take a seat.
“Well hello to you, too.” Shelby grins. “Thought we’d tag along and visit our favorite uncle. Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
I shrug as if I don’t know what she means. But I do. It’s not that I’ve been intentionally avoiding my family. I’ve just been avoiding everyone. Heading to work, doing my job, and then going home to spend time with Diesel. I’m still attending Sunday-night dinners, of course, but past that, I haven’t made much of an effort.
“Oh, look who’s here.” Violet emerges from the kitchen, flinging a towel over one shoulder. “How are you, Jesse? It’s good to see you.”
“What do you mean? I come here all the time,” I mutter.
Violet shrugs but there’s something suspiciously nonchalant in her manner. She takes a seat across from me and raises her eyebrows expectantly. “So, how have you been?”
I look between the three of them. Their attention is fixed on me in a way that feels deeply unsettling. I narrow my eyes as I study them.
“What is this? What’s going on here?”
Shelby laces her fingers together and leans forward.
