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“We were hopeless,” I say, missing those days.
She shrugs a shoulder, seeming to search my face. “At least we were hopeless together.”
“Except…” I tap my chin. “If I remember correctly, you were more hopeless than me.”
“Me?” She balks and presses her hand to her chest. “Which one of us tried to lean back in his chair during English, going for cool, and fell flat on his back?”
Yep. I was that pitiful. But telling Jo about the incident afterward made her laugh, and I wasn’t the only one who invited ridicule. “Which one of us insisted on wearing a daffodil corsage to seventh-grade graduation, because all the cool girls were wearing them, even though she was allergic?”
“Oh my God.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I totally forgot about that.”
I wasn’t there to witness that disaster. A year younger, I sat at home, edgy and bored, while Jolene attended the party. I lay in bed, glaring up at my ceiling, unable to sleep. Then Jo turned up, mascara staining her cheeks, as she cried on my shoulder about the disastrous night.
“You sneezed in Tvisha Shah’s face,” I tell her now, glad we can joke about how embarrassed she was.
She cringes. “And in Eric Ackerman’s punch.”
“Which, according to you, he still drank.”
She snorts, her eyes bright.
Bar staff mill around her. Country music and chatter fill the beer-tinged air, but we’re in some kind of time warp. A bubble of history, with just Jo and me and the easiness we once shared. But Jo’s brown eyes seem to shift, morphing from espresso to a richer mocha. Thick with intent I can’t decipher.
She blinks and twists the bar cloth in her hand. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Jo.” I swallow hard, wanting to end this trip down memory lane. Order beers like I planned, return to the guys. Instead, I say, “I remember every single thing we did together, which is why hanging out with you is tough. When the good moments rush back, I get upset about all the years I lived without you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “So seeing me makes you angry?” she asks softly.
“In a way.” Although for more complicated reasons. I rub the back of my neck. “Before WITSEC, you were the best part of my life. I know things got weird before I left. There were reasons for that I’d rather not discuss, but being forced to leave Windfall—to leaveyou—gutted me. Seeing you now reminds me of all I lost, which tends to make me mad. Furious over what my father stole from all of us.” Desmond losing the chance to raise the son he didn’t know he had. E and Lennon having to wait a decade to win back the women they loved. Jolene ripped out of my life. “It all sits heavily on me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She curves her shoulders forward, shrinking smaller. “I don’t want to make things harder for you. I’ll stop reaching out.”
“Don’t,” I blurt, suddenly anxious. I’m tired of my past having power over my present. As hard as being around Jo is, maybe this time will be different. Maybe being closer friends won’t cause another avalanche of affection to swamp me. The other option, never hanging out again, has my lungs constricting. “As tough as some days are, avoiding you isn’t feeling like the right choice.”
Slowly, she fits her hand into mine and intertwines our fingers. “Not talking to you doesn’t feel right to me either.”
The simple contact sends a shiver through me. Goddamn body, forever misbehaving.
“I get it,” I say, trying to lighten the mood and regain control. “Without me, you have no one to show you how to be cool.”
Eyes twinkling, she squeezes my hand. “Come with me to the Broccoli Showdown.”
“Thewhatshowdown?”
“Broccoli.” She releases my hand and grabs an empty pitcher. “Beer for the table?”
I nod. “Plus, a plate of nachos and your shittiest hipster beer for Lennon.”
She laughs. “It’s so fun tormenting him with hipster jokes.”
“You have no idea. But back to the broccoli shindig—what is it, and why does it exist?”
“Maggie helps run town events and has been trying to promote the agricultural side of Windfall.” Jo moves as she talks, pouring beer from the tap, bending over to grab Lennon’s bottle. The prominent view of her lush bottom has me snapping my eyes to the bar top. “There was a beet festival last fall that you should never mention to her. It was a minor disaster. But since it’s broccoli growing season, she’s organized a broccoli showdown, which involves different broccoli cook-offs.”
Gotta love Windfall’s many wild and wacky festivals. Except attending those is more of a couple’s day out.
“You should go with Jake,” I say, but the words feel hard to force out. “I know he’d love to take you,” I add for good measure. It’s the perfect event for them to rekindle their romance and get to know each other again.
