CHAPTER EIGHT

James

“What’s up?” I ask Jack, hoping he ignores the fact that I’m pretty sure he saw me almost mounting up on his mama on the couch. I have no idea what came over me, but the playful glint in her eye when she was running through her house, her tinkling laughter washing over me along the way made me feel alive.

I couldn’t stop myself, and when she was teasing me about Dean being the better brother, which, obviously he isn’t, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted her to keep up the act. Because in that moment? Her guard was down. She was being herself and finally giving me a piece of what I’ve been longing for. A hint of who she was before whatever changed her, whatever spooked her.

Something happened in her past. Something that caused a shift in her, and created this hard-edged barbed-wire fence that she built around her heart. Tess says she turtles herself for protection. But from what, I don’t know. I’ll find out, though. And every day, every chance encounter, every text I send her removes a barb and opens her up to me. I don’t think she realizes how much she’s letting me in.

In the short amount of time I’ve known her, I’ve learned that she’s an only child. After her dad died before she was born, her mom was never the same, turning to the bottle to cope. I learned this one night when she let it slip that she has never once been drunk in her life. Not even in college. I wasn’t a big drinker, by any means, but I can’t say that I’ve never had a few too many.

I learned that she was originally from the Southwest, although I’m unsure of exactly where. She divulged this little bit of information when we were talking about loving white Christmases as I was helping her hang Christmas lights. She didn’t grow up with snow, and it’s snowed every year she’s lived here.

At one of the playoff football games, she let it slip that she used to hate tattoos on men, which leads me to believe that she now likes them. My ego tells me it’s because she likes my tattoos. When I teased her and asked what changed her mind, she quickly looked back toward the field and avoided answering that question, confirming my suspicion.

Her favorite meal is beef and broccoli with Asian noodles. Her second favorite meal? Bacon cheeseburger with real potato fries. The fact that she knows how to enjoy food and not live off salads is one of the many things that attracts me to her.

Her favorite dessert is chocolate. When I laughed at her response, she just said, “Literally anything chocolate. I’m not picky. Just give me all the chocolate.”

I immediately went home and started going through every recipe I could find that included chocolate.

Even though I’ve learned things, there’s still so much I want to know. I may know how she takes her coffee, and that she doesn’t drink soda because the bubbles make her squeamish, she hates sweet tea but loves iced tea, used to run but doesn’t anymore because she hurt her knee. But those are things that are easy to find out. I want to know more. I want to know it all. From finding out what her dreams are, to the real reason she doesn’t run anymore (because she plays tennis, so… the knee thing? BS) to what kind of toothpaste she prefers. I soak up every single thing she tells me and hope to God that she continues to open up, to trust me.

“You’re so transparent,” Jack says, laughing, bringing me back to the fact that I’m standing in his bedroom.

I take a moment to look around. One wall is jet black with lime green squares and rectangles painted in random locations. The other three walls are a deep charcoal color. The comforter that covers his unmade bed is black, and ’lime-green pillows are strewn about. In one corner, there’s what looks like an old set of lockers. It kind of looks like Pinterest threw up in here, and I wonder if his mom decorated it or if he designed it. And yeah, I know Pinterest. I use it for recipes.

“Transparent? What do you mean?” I ask, still looking around the room. Every time I walk into Carly’s house, my eyes don’t stop moving around, soaking it all in, trying to get more glimpses of who she is.

“Oh it’s like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

“Listen. I see how you look at my mom. And even though it makes me wanna puke to think about my mom being hot or whatever, I still want her to have that, you know? She deserves that. After—” he starts to say then looks away from me. “Let’s just leave it at that she deserves it.”

“I agree with you. She does. But what exactly are you getting at, Jack?”

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and leans over, clasping his hands together. I sit down in the chair by his desk and mimic his position. “Didn’t I say?”

“Not really.”

He fidgets, running his hands through his dark hair, making it stand on end. “Oh. Dating. I mean, you and her. It’s obvious to me. But you want to, right?”

“I do. But she’s made it pretty clear that she just wants to stay friends.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I am. If my other option is to not have y’all around? It’s no question.”

He nods his head, seeming to soak in what I’m saying.

“And you’re okay with always only being her friend, if that’s what she wants? You would never push her to be something she’s not? Never make her feel like she’s… I don’t know… less or something?”

I remember again that Jack is very protective of her. More than what a typical son is of his mother. But this questioning gives me even more insight. I’m dying to ask where this is coming from, to get the details of their past that I so desperately want. But I won’t. I don’t want to make either of them feel like I’m not willing to fulfill my promise of being okay with friendship.

“Jack. Listen to me and look me in the eye so you can see the truth there, alright?” He stares right at me, and I continue, “Getting to know the both of you over these past weeks, it’s been really great. Am I attracted to your mom? I am. She’s gorgeous. More beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever met or seen. You’ve got a hot mom, dude, deal with it,” I say with a grin when he fake gags.

“You can’t tell me your friends haven’t said…”

“Gross. Shut up. Shut up now,” he says, growling, his whole body shuddering, making me laugh.

“Alright. I get it. Just know this, okay, bud? When I say that I am okay with it, I am. I don’t know what happened to bring you guys here to Liberty. But I do know it was something big. Something that shook y’all up enough to relocate and never look back. I also know that’s your story to tell, and if you guys want to share? I’m all ears. If she wants something more with me someday down the road, I’m not going anywhere. But if neither of you want to share, and she just wants to stay friends, I’m okay with that. I mean that,” I tell him and roll the chair closer to the bed and spit in my hand and stick it out to him.

“Seriously?” he asks with a disgusted look on his face.

This kid. He cracks me up. He can be so strong and tough when he’s in the boxing ring, but something as simple as a spit-shake that I mastered when I was ten? He’s about ready to throw up on my shoes.

I shrug. “Why not?”

“Uh, because that’s nasty.”

“Nasty? Nah. I’m just showing you how real I am.”

He sighs heavily and spits into his right hand then slowly sticks it out to me. His lip curls up, and nose scrunches as he cringes a little when I slap my palm against his.

“Oh, don’t be such a girl,” I tease him.

“Hey! I’m not girly! That’s just freakin’ gross, man!” he defends as he wipes his hand on his jeans-clad leg.

“Ha! You obviously didn’t have brothers.”

“This is true. And does my mom look like the type of person who would spit-shake on anything?”

“No, no she does not,” I say as my mind drifts back to the way her soft hands felt underneath mine after I threw her onto the couch. I don’t even let it get caught up on the way her body felt. I’d surely end up embarrassing myself in front of her teenage son.

“Dude!” Jack says loudly.

“Sorry.”

“Not even gonna ask.”

“Probably best,” I say, smirking.

“Gross,” he whispers.

“So, I don’t think this is what you had planned on talking to me about, even though I’m glad we cleared the air. Wanna tell me why you wanted me to stop by tonight?”

“Oh, um…” He hesitates.

“Hey. Kiddo. It’s me. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge, and I won’t say anything. I mean, unless it’s illegal, then I’ll tattle to your mom like one of her students.”

He laughs nervously. “Alright, so um, yeah, can you just pretend that Maggie isn’t your niece for a minute?”

Well shit.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On what you’re about to say. But I’ll do my best.”

“Well, it’s not like pervy or anything.” His eyes widen, and he rushes on, waving his hands in front of him frantically. “Not that I even have pervy thoughts or think of her that way…”

God bless teenage awkwardness. “Jack.” I laugh. “Just spit it out. I know what you mean.”

“I like her. Like — a lot. Way more than I think I should when I’m only sixteen. But she’s fifteen. And I’m turning seventeen in less than a month.”

“And?”

“And isn’t that like not allowed?”

What the hell is he thinking of doing with my fifteen-year-old niece that he thinks isn’t allowed!?

“Well, she turns sixteen in about a month-and-a-half, which doesn’t change that part. And, it depends on what you’re planning on doing with that fifteen-year-old, who, by the way, is almost sixteen. Which you just said wasn’t pervy, and since dating a fifteen-year-old when you’re sixteen isn’t a crime, you’re good. But that’s not what you want to ask me, now, is it?”

“No. Shit. I mean, crap. Sorry. Don’t tell Mom I said that. Ugh! I feel stupid,” he mumbles as he rakes his fingers through his hair again and stands up to pace the room.

“Why?”

“I’ve never kissed a girl before!” he blurts out, and my eyebrows go so high they’re in danger of meshing in with my hairline.

I lean back in my chair and hope that I come across as relaxed in the situation as I absolutely am not.

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. So you want…”

“To know how to do it.”

“And how am I supposed to teach you that!?” I screech, letting my body come forward in the chair.

“Well, it’s not like I want you to show me or anything!” he whisper-shouts.

“I didn’t say you did.” I chuckle with my hands up.

“Just forget I asked.” Jack looks toward the ground.

“No. No. I just need to get my mind wrapped around this. Honestly, this isn’t what I expected. I thought you would have questions about the restaurant or something. But this? Kissing my niece? Shit. Crap. Don’t tell your mom I said that,” I tell him, hoping to lighten the mood. Not that there’s a mood! But yeah.

Holy shit. I’m messing this up so badly.

He snorts out a laugh and rolls his eyes when he looks back up at me.

“What do you want to know?”

“Really?”

The hope in his eyes hits me right in the gut. I remember what it’s like to be a teenage kid. I remember what it feels like to want to kiss a girl so badly that it was all I could think about. Hell, I’m frickin’ living that right now!

“Yeah. I mean, I get it.”

“Well, first of all, how do I know if she even wants me to kiss her?”

“So… this is the part where I have to forget that Maggie is my niece, right? And that her dad is a big dude, her brothers are the same, and they would kick my ass if they knew I was giving you advice on how to kiss her?”

He nods quickly. “Yes. Now would be good to forget all that.”

Well, I guess I’m really doing this. Never did I dream I would be giving advice to a teenage boy on how to kiss my niece. And truly, if Barrett or his boys find out, they will have several choice words to sling at me.

“Alright. You don’t know if Mag… I mean, she wants you to kiss her?”

“Well, she gives me these looks, like her eyes get really soft. And they’re hazel, you know? So, they almost change colors all the time. But when she looks at me like that, they get bright green and super pretty. And sometimes she’ll brush her pinky against my hand when we’re walking close to each other, and she always chooses the seat by me. Even at lunch at school. I started walking with her between classes, too. And one day I was running a little behind, but she waited for me.” He’s pacing back and forth in his room, glancing at me every so often and smiling to himself. “Oh! And one time when we were crossing a street, I held her hand because, well, I wanted to keep her safe, and thought she’d drop it as soon as we got across the street, but she just held on tighter, and when I threaded my fingers in hers? She looked down at my hand and up in my eyes, and the look she gave me… and her smile… and I could smell her hair — it smelled like apples — and all of it combined… I don’t know. It just felt like…”

“You could conquer the world?”

“Yeah. Stupid, right?”

“No, bud. Not stupid at all. When you find a girl who makes you feel like you could conquer the world, and who you would lie down in front of a moving car in order to save, that doesn’t sound stupid at all. That sounds like someone you shouldn’t let go of. Like someone you want to keep around a while.”

“Is… is that how you feel about Mom?”

“Yeah, Jack, it is. But the thing is? I’m willing to lie in front of that car and conquer the world for her even if I don’t get the kiss.”

“Really?”

“Yup. But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and your girl. And I’ll deny this if you ever tell her father I’m the one who told you to go for it, but kiss the girl. Imagine I’m Sebastian, and I’m telling you… Kiss. The. Girl.”

“You just Disney’d me.”

“Hey, I raised a girl on my own. Disney princesses were running amuck in my house.”

“You really think she won’t like, knee me in the balls or something if I try to kiss her? Or ask her on an official date?”

“If she’s looking at you the way you say she is, giving you those small touches that you can feel all the way to your toes, then no way is she gonna knee you in the balls or say no to a date. Ask her out. Pick her up at her door. Talk to her dad, no matter how many guns he greets you at the door holding.” I grin as his eyes go enormous. “Be respectful. Hold the door for her. Never forget that she’s worth it all. Kiss her goodnight but show her that you’re willing to wait for her if she doesn’t feel comfortable kissing you right away. And if you’re out on a date and you have questions or freak out? Call me. Or text me. Whatever.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Just remember what I said, and whether you’re dating my niece or some girl you meet at culinary school — because you will be going to culinary school — you’ll be totally fine. Women are meant to be treated with respect. Their hearts? They’re fragile, man, and you hold that key. Respect, patience, and caring. At all times. Got me?”

“I got you. Trust me. That I get.”

I don’t really know what to make of that statement, but it’s branded into my mind, and I know I’ll struggle not finding out what it means.

“Thank you, James. So… kissing?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

Is he really asking…

“Hands, where do I put them? Tongue? No tongue?”

Yup, he’s really asking literally how to kiss my niece. I’m so dead.

“Not my niece. Not my niece. Not my niece,” I chant to myself.

He winces, and I feel a little bad. “I’m sorry. This is weird, right?”

“No, bud, it’s not. I just need to remind myself you’re not talking about my niece.” I blow out a breath and look him square in the eye. I’ve never had to tell a person how to kiss someone before, and honestly, I have no clue what to say.

I take a deep breath and let it out. “So, here’s the deal. This is your first kiss. You don’t need to be an overeager and use too much… t-tongue.” I almost choke on the word that tastes like bile in my throat. “Hand placement? Keep it clean, dude,” I say with a low voice, and he nods quickly with his eyes wide. “You’ll know, trust me on that. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Touch her face, cup her cheeks — on her face, not her… you know — with both hands or lightly wrap one around the back of her neck to hold her close. Keep it soft and remember, just don’t let your head get in the way. You’ll know what to do. Trust me.”

He bites his lip just like I’ve seen his mom do so many times, then he blinks a couple of times. “I can do that. Thanks, man. I know that was super awkward, but I didn’t really know who else to ask about this. It’s kind of embarrassing anyway that I’ve never kissed a girl, and I’m sixteen, so I didn’t want to ask any of my friends — or risk them telling Grady — and Mom just wasn’t an option, you know?”

“Hey, sixteen isn’t old. Don’t sweat it. And, just to say, I’m sure your mom would have been super cool about explaining it to you, but I’m really glad you called. You’re welcome to come to me any time, about anything.” I hope he understands the underlying meaning when I said the word anything. I don’t want him going behind his mom’s back and telling me something she doesn’t want me knowing. But it’s also clear that he has a lot of demons that still haunt him, and I want him to know that I’m here to help defeat them, if he wants me to be.

“I like that. Thanks. Again,” he says sheepishly.

I grin at his awkwardness. Teens really own that.

“Wanna stop by early next week? You’re off for Christmas break, right?”

He nods.

“Then stop in. You can see what Barrett and I have been doing. It’s not much. We kind of got started on the apartment above the restaurant, so I had a place to stay.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. I’d love to stop by.”

“Awesome. Text me. I’m always around.”

“Sweet.”

“See ya, kid. And if you need help finding something to wear to that wedding you and your mom will be attending, let me know.”

He groans. “You were serious? I actually have to go?”

“Maggie. Dress. Dancing afterward.”

“Got it. Dress pants and a tie okay?”

I smirk. “That’ll do, boy. That’ll do. Talk soon, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” he says, seeming distracted, probably either hoping to call Maggie before bed or, more likely, imagining her in a dress.

I step out of his bedroom and see a flash of blond hair and hot-pink slippers flit around the corner. I step into the living room just as Carly hurdles the back of the couch and sits down. She crosses her legs as she fumbles for her Kindle, patting down her hair to tame the wild that just happened. It’s obvious she was listening to the conversation I was having with Jack, I just want to know how much she heard. But the fact that she’s panting for breaths and trying to look like she wasn’t listening tells me she heard quite a bit.

Maybe this should bother me, but it doesn’t. I want her to know how I’m feeling. I want her to know what is going through my head when it comes to the two of us.

I clear my throat and approach the back of the couch. She pretends to startle like she didn’t know I was standing there.

“Hi there.”

“Oh! Hi! I didn’t see you. You finish talking with Jack?” Her voice is high-pitched, and the words are coming out fast.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh good. Yeah. Thanks for talking to him. I mean, he must have felt like he could talk to you about whatever it was he needed to talk to someone about, and yeah, his mom isn’t that cool to talk to and divulge all his boyhood secrets to, so thanks for coming over and…” Her hands are waving around, and she keeps licking her lips, drawing my attention to them, but I can tell she’s nervous.

“Carly,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder, leaning over the back of the couch and effectively stopping her rant, “you’re rambling.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

“What did you hear?”

“Hear? Hmmm?”

“Yeah, you little cutie. What did you hear before you sprinted around the corner and dive-bombed onto the couch?”

“Hmm? Oh that? That was nothing. Just something fun I like to do. Keeps my heart rate up, my blood pumping, you know.”

“I’ll let it slide this time.” I grin.

She sighs again. “Thanks.”

“Don’t even mention it. I’m gonna head out. I promised Miss Harper I would let her read to me tonight. Something about a frog and a toad.”

Her eyes go soft, and she bites the corner of her mouth again. This time I don’t hesitate to reach out with my thumb and release her lip from her teeth. Her lip is soft, and what I really want to do is lean down and kiss her until both our lips are swollen. Her sudden intake of breath causes my eyes to shoot to hers.

“Don’t,” I murmur.

She looks at me questioningly but doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t be nervous around me. Don’t be afraid to be yourself.”

“I’m not…” She begins to protest, but I stop her by pressing my thumb against her lip.

“Yeah, you are. But we’ll get there. I promise, one day…” I lean closer to her. “…one day we’ll get there. Together.”

“Okay,” she says breathlessly.

“Okay,” I say, my voice quiet. “I’ll see you soon? And next time I’m here, I plan to cook in that kitchen of yours.” I point back toward it. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how kick-ass it is,” I tell her.

“Oh yeah. Jack and I remodeled it last year, with Barrett’s help.”

“I can tell. I’ll see you soon,” I repeat, this time not as a question, then bend down and press my lips to her forehead. We’ve touched more tonight than we have the entire time we’ve known each other. When I pull back, her dark-chocolate eyes are closed then flutter open, her gaze slowly moving over my face.

Tonight I came over to her house, expecting to talk to Jack for a few minutes, and what I got was so much more. In Jack’s words, I feel like I could conquer the world. And after tonight I know there’s no way I’ll be content staying in the friend-zone with Carly.

But I also know she wants so much more than that too.