As he jogged up the stairs to his old room, he tried to shake off his mom’s emotional discussion. He needed to focus on the present—which was the orchard. He’d ponder his future later.
Emily sat on the edge of the bed, clad in a pair of cotton shorts and a green tank top as she brushed her waist-length dark hair. Not only had supper been delicious, but the conversation was lively and fun. She enjoyed laughing and bantering with Jake and his folks.
When she was younger, Emily used to imagine she was married to Jake, and his family was her family. Such a ridiculous fantasy, but tonight the feeling overcame her once again. She tried to tamp it down, but the more she laughed and talked with them, the more her dream of Jake being more than a friend pulsated and morphed.
Get ahold of yourself! He’s not ever going to let go of Claire!
A knock sounded on the door, and she set the brush down beside her. “Who is it?”
“Take a wild guess,” Jake deadpanned, and she laughed.
“Come in.”
He pushed the door open and held up a shoebox. “You need to see this.” His eyes roved over her as if he were checking her out. A wave of warmth washed through her.
Surely she was imagining it. He’d never noticed her in that way before.
She patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”
He sank down beside her, and the bed shifted under his weight. Then he held out the box. “Open it.”
Emily lifted the lid and gasped. It was full of the napkins she’d doodled on—hundreds of them! Shock rolled through her as she combed through them, her brain traveling back in time on a wave of memories. She recognized some of the doodles, but others weren’t familiar.
“Jake,” she whispered, her heart squeezing. “This—this is crazy.”
“I told you I kept them.”
She met his gaze. “Why on earth would you want to?”
His smile was adorable. “Why wouldn’t I?Youdrew them.” He gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and once again, Jake Hughes had managed to overwhelm her with his thoughtfulness. No wonder this man had stolen her heart back when they were kids.
She flipped through the napkins and laughed as she picked up one featuring an illustrated food fight in their middle school cafeteria. “I remember this day like it was yesterday! The jocks across the cafeteria started a food fight and were all sent to the principal’s office.”
“Right!” He chuckled. “The cafeteria monitor was so angry that her face turned as red as one of our apples.”
They both laughed.
Emily folded her legs under herself and chose another napkin with a doodle of the lake and a little boat with two people sitting in it. She turned it over, hoping to find a date, but she didn’t see one. “I wonder why I drew this?” She gave the napkin to Jake.
“I don’t remember, but it’s good. All of your doodles are good.” He tossed the napkin into the box.
“Right,” she replied with sarcasm. She examined a few more. “I remember this one.” She handed him a napkin covered in a drawing of Jake’s grandfather’s truck with people sitting in the bed. A banner with “Hughes Family Orchard” adorned the side of the truck. “That’s when we were in the Splendid Lake Apple Festival parade.”
He grinned. “That was a fun day.”
“It was.” Emily had sat in the truck bed, along with Ally and a few friends. Claire had insisted on being in the cab with Jake. She could still recall how her stomach roiled every time Claire stole a kiss from Jake.
“What about this one?” Jake held up a napkin with a doodle of the football field. “This was when Splendid Lake High School was in the run for the state championship.”
“Which we lost.”
“But the games were still fun,” he countered.
“They were.” She’d always loved sitting in the stands with Jake and their friends during the football games. She assumed Jake was there to watch his girlfriend cheer with the rest of the squad, but Emily cherished sitting beside him.
When she found one featuring a bouquet of flowers, her stomach constricted. She remembered that day vividly.
Senior year. Valentine’s Day. Claire had spent their entire lunchtime bragging about the bouquet of roses that Jake had given her. Emily had poured her jealousy into drawing a bouquetas a way to cope with her feelings—and also avoid looking at Claire. All these years later, Emily could still feel that envy boiling low in her stomach. It hadn’t faded one bit.
