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Jace
Two more days passed without any contact with Greer before Oren came back from what I assumed was a business trip and agreed to meet me for lunch at a casual fish & chips truck off Commercial Street, with picnic tables set up in an adjacent grassy lot. It was gusty, the threat of rain on the horizon. I hoped it held off long enough for me to get back home and change my jacket. Leather was warm, but not exactly waterproof.
I showed up early, shoving my legs under a table and sitting down, not bothering to order any food. That’s not what I was hungry for. I was barely eating. Barely sleeping. When I wasn’t working, I was working out. My muscles were sore, and I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since the night Greer broke it off. Sheryll made it a point to cook three meals a day—and by cook I meant that she emptied a can into a saucepan and heated it up—but I wasn’t interested.
Even now, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the screen, willing Greer to call me. My fingers pulled up her name in my contacts, and my thumb hovered over the icon to send the call. But instead, I swiped back to my home screen and put the phone in my pocket.
If Greer called and told me she’d been having second thoughts about our breakup, I’d erase every single doubt she’d ever had about us being together. I missed her. I craved the satin of her skin, her flawless style, her ability to be both bold and hesitant, practical and nostalgic, resilient and vulnerable. I’d literally drive over to her house, throw her over my shoulder, shore up in her bedroom. I didn’t care if Wade was there or not. In fact, I hoped he’d hear us.
Actually, no. I wouldn’t do any of that. I once again worked to redirect my train of thought. The reason she couldn’t be with me was because we didn’t communicate, she’d said. So, I’d sit my ass down on the porch and listen—really listen—to everything she had to say. She could just let me know when she was ready for more. I hoped she wouldn’t wait too long, though.
I shook my head. Fantasy. Greer broke up with me. None of that would happen unless I called her and begged her to take me back—which she might not do. I wasn’t that desperate yet. I needed something in hand to prove to her I was worthy of her love. Then she’d never abandon me. There was only one wild card in my plan—and he was approaching me right now.
“Jace, right? I’m Wade. Wade Cook. Remember me?”
Yeah, I remember you, motherfucker.
He approached the picnic table. “Mind if I sit for a minute? That’s quite a walk along the water. Reckon I’ve been walking for miles and ain’t seen a seal yet.”
“I know who you are,” I said coldly. “And they’re sea lions. Not seals.” I didn’t tell him he could sit, but he did anyway.
“Hey, now. Don’t be like that. I had nothing to do with you and Greer bein’ on the outs.”
“Yeah? Well, it remains to be seen if you have anything to do with Greer and me staying on the outs, doesn’t it?”
“You mean, like that I’m tryin’ to steal her from you?” He let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, man. That’s never going to happen. I know for a fact I couldn’t handle that woman. She’s a firecracker when she’s on a mission like she is now. I honestly don’t know what’s going on with her.”
“That makes two of us. She doesn’t tell me shit.”
“Well, I reckon that’s just her way,” he said, shrugging it off like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Some folks are just like that. I’ve gotten used to her investigating behind the scenes over the years. She’s digging. Digging at something good. And she needs to work it out for herself before she’ll share it with anyone else.”
“It seems like you know her pretty well,” I remarked.
“Well enough to know she’s completely into you.”
I studied him across the table, slightly mollified now that he didn’t seem to be fucking my girl behind my back. Decent guy. “What makes you say that?”
Before Wade could answer, Oren strolled up to the table looking like he was about to go on a cruise down the Mississippi River. While I wore black jeans, a matching sweatshirt, and a leather jacket, and Wade was in the khakis, pastel button-down, and windbreaker standard among the Southern gentlemen set, Oren wore a tweed suit complete with pocket square and a straw hat trimmed to match, covered by a Burberry trench coat.
“Ah, Mr. Blackwell. Mr…Wade, is it? I didn’t catch your last name the first time we met. I apologize.”
“It’s Cook. Wade Cook. My apologies. I didn’t realize you were meeting someone,” he said to me.
“It’s no problem,” I said. “But this is something I wanted to talk to Oren about privately.”
“I understand,” he said, getting up from the table. “Nice to see you again,” he said to Oren before heading back down toward the waterfront.
“Hey, Wade,” I called out.
“Yup?”
“If you see Greer…when you see her…can you tell her…”
“What do you want me to tell her?” he asked, walking closer.
What did I want him to tell her? That I loved her. I’d always loved her. I missed her. I wasn’t angry at her. Every second I couldn’t see her and call her felt like an eternity?
“Just tell her that I’m coming for her.”
