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I wasn’t sure if I was relieved, or disappointed, that Jayce didn’t push the issue.
I wanted to accept his ride home. I wanted him to invite himself into my room when we arrived. And then I wanted him to ravage me like it was our last day on earth, fulfilling the dreams I’d been having since arriving in this town.
But the danger from last night, and this morning, was still very real. A tangible thing in the air, like humidity, making it difficult to breathe. One Copperhead had already spied us in the cemetery the other day. All it would take was one more seeing Jayce’s truck parked outside the motel, and then watching him leave after a conspicuous amount of time…
“Better to walk,” I said out loud to convince myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart leaped at the thought that maybe it was Jayce calling to tell me to come back, to get in his truck so he could take me somewhere secluded and make love to me on the soft Georgia grass, but it was only Scott. He’d called me twice today already, and this made three. But he hadn’t left a voicemail, so it couldn’t have been too important. He probably just wanted to convince me to pay for half of that stupid magazine ad.
“Fat chance,” I told the freshly-weeded road.
It didn’t rain on the walk home. It was actually rather pleasant, especially since it gave me more time to think about things with Jayce. There was something there. Not just the physical attraction—which was very,verystrong. Something deeper. We were connecting in a powerful way, especially since I’d discovered his little workshop slash art studio. To think that a guy like him actually madeart!
I wasn’t sure what would happen when my community service was over, but I was beginning to wonder if it would include Jayce.If I can convince him to leave town.That would be the hard part.
But I had another ten days to wear him down.
I took a shower to get the work sweat off me, then changed into a more comfortable pair of long jeans. I’d been wearing my cut-offs to give Jayce a little tease as we worked, but the wind had a chill in it that I knew would only get colder as the sun went down.
My phone buzzed. I went through a quick gauntlet of emotions: annoyance at Scott, excitement when I realized it was Jayce texting me, and then shock as I read his long text:
Jayce: Hey. I didn’t want to do this via text, but I don’t have it in me to say it in person. So, sorry in advance for this. I can’t be with you. Last night was amazing, but it just confirmed that I don’t have deeper feelings. You’re sweet, and absolutely gorgeous, but I just don’t have feelings for you beyond that. I didn’t think it would be fair to keep it from you before things got more out of hand. I hope you understand.
I read it three times, and my stomach sank deeper each time. This wasn’t about the dangers with Sid and the Copperheads, and how we needed to be careful. This was a completely different kind of rejection.
I started to text back. Then I stopped, deleted what I had written, and buried my face in my pillow to cry.
When I was all out of tears, I went into the bathroom and washed my face. Then I left my room and went to the lobby to get a burrito and six-pack of beer—but mostly the beer. When I walked into the lobby, however, the cooler from the corner was gone. There was a rectangular outline of dust where it had been.
“Compressor broke overnight,” Billy said when I asked. “Leaked ice all over the damn floor. New one’s comin’ tomorrow.”
I didn’t know what the compressor was, but I knew it meant no beer. “Was that why the sheriff was here this morning?”
“Uh huh,” Billy said, then scratched his head awkwardly. “Well, that was one reason. He’s got a new, uh, policy. About the motel. It sorta involves you.”
“Spit it out, Billy.”
“Sheriff says there’s a parking fee for all cars at the motel.”
I walked to the entrance, stood in the doorway, and pointed outside. “There are fifteen empty spots out there, Billy! It’s not like I’m blocking anything!”
To his credit, he looked guilty about it. “I know, I know. It ain’t my rule. I’m just lettin’ you know.”
I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. “How much is it?”
“Ten bucks a day.”
“Bill me at the end,” I said as I left the lobby.
I looked at the sky. The clouds were grey and ominous, but I was too hungry to have potato chips for dinner. So I went back to my room, exchanged my flip flops for sneakers, and walked back into town.
The easy stroll I’d had out of town that afternoon was an angry speed-walk now, both because of my mood and my desire to avoid getting caught in the rain. The self-doubt that lingered in the back of every woman’s mind came roaring to the front like a banshee.
Maybe I’m bad in bed. Maybe I wasn’t dirty enough for him last night—I should have gone down on him. Maybe I smelled bad, or didn’t groom my lady-parts well enough. Maybe he doesn’t really like brunettes. Maybe he doesn’t like my personality. I talked too much, and told stupid jokes.
Maybe maybe maybe.
I re-read his text again on the walk. It didn’t matter that he said last night was amazing, and that I was gorgeous. The ever-expanding poison of doubt had taken its hold in my mind.
