Page 71 of The Scars We Heal

Van laughed. “Nah. And if he was talking shit, I wouldn’t out him like that. The guy talks about you like you shit rainbows and butterflies, honestly.”

“Noted.” I snorted.

“How long have you two been together, then?”

“Pardon?”

“You and Jake. I assume you two are dating, right?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “N-no.”

He lifted the tattoo machine from my arm, looking up at me with raised brows before tilting his head slightly then getting back to work.

“Jake’s just…” I hesitated. “Jake’s a friend.”

Van grunted. Apparently, he was a man of few words when he didn’t like the answer he got. Or maybe he was just focused.

This was the fourth time someone had hinted at Jake having feelings for me. I thought Ellison and my mom were just being cheeky a couple months ago with their not-so-subtle hints, and Bec had pointed out how he’d shown up for me when I needed him most. And yeah, maybe Jake had feelings for me now, but what was I missing?

My mind flashed back to the day we painted Whitley’s room. The almost-kiss I thought was all in my head. Then back to Ellison and Colter’s wedding, and even before then at my own wedding.

Has Jake had feelings for me this entire time?

The air between us was tense on the drive home from the tattoo shop. My mind still reeled from the things Van said about Jake. Part of me wanted answers. Firstly, to know if the things I felt for him were reciprocated. I believed they were, but I needed that undoubtable confirmation. Secondly, I wanted to know how long those feelings had been there. But the other part of me was scared of the answer I’d receive.

“Where’d you go just now?” Jake asked, his eyes drifting away from the road toward me.

“Nowhere,” I lied as I shook my head, gaze glued to the floorboards. “It’s nothing.”

“Cait,” he pushed. “What’s wrong?”

“Van just said something odd, that’s all.”

Jake’s head whipped toward me, fire flaring in his expression. “Did he do something to make you uncomfortable?”

I put my hands up in surrender. “No, no, no, nothing like that. He was great. He just made it seem like…I don’t know, he asked how long we’d been together.”

The color drained from his face, but otherwise, he hid his emotion well. “Ah, I see.”

“What was that all about?”

Jake looked as though he was debating whether to brush it off or not. After a few moments of deliberation, he let out a sigh. “Van has been there for me for the last eight years, and he’s seen me in a lot of different stages of my life. He always means well.”

“But?”

“But he also doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” He laughed, and the conversation slammed to a halt.

We pulled into the driveway, and Jake threw the pickup in park.

I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure of whether I should keep pushing the subject or not. Deciding to let it go, I opened the truck door and hopped out, my shoes crunching against the gravel. Without looking back, I started toward the front door of the guest house.

“Cait!” Jake called out to me, and I froze on the grass.

By the time I turned to look at him over my shoulder, he was behind me. I spun on my heels, and his hands settled on my waist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, and then his lips were on mine.

A soft squeak left my mouth, and my eyes widened before fluttering shut as I gave in. The kiss was gentle, soft, like he was scared to push too far.