THAT NIGHT, I DREAMT OF Jake.
I’d like to say it was the first time, that all the nights before, I’d fallen into a blissful slumber, thinking only of Dean and the life we’d soon share.
But it wasn’t like that.
It never had been.
While I had been spending my days with Dean, going fishing and out to eat, as we tried to force a friendship into something more, I had secretly been sharing my dreams with a man I hadn’t seen for well over a decade.
Until now.
The moment Jake had stepped back into my life, walking into that hospital room, looking like one of those hot doctors on TV, it didn’t matter what hour of the day or night it was.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him.
First, it had just been memories.
Little things, like our first kiss. The sweet innocence of it as he’d placed his lips on mine. He had been so unsure, so tentative. Meanwhile, my heart had been ready to burst right out of my chest from the sheer restraint I showed. I’d wanted to kiss him so badly for so long that, when it finally happened, I never wanted it to end.
The memory of our first kiss had given way to that first day we showed up at school, declaring ourselves an item by holding hands in between classes for the whole world to see. Again, my heart had been beating wildly, but this time, it had been pure pride. This boy, the one I’d loved since I barely understood the word, was finally been mine.
I’d sworn I’d never let go.
But that was the thing with young love.
Like a first kiss, it was so sweet and pure.
We’d thought we could fight the whole world as long as we were together, but at the first sign of battle, our shields had fallen, and our walls had crumbled.
I dreamt of the day he left, the moment my heart followed him across the sound.
I’d told myself I wouldn’t go to see him off.
It was his decision, his choice, and I wouldn’t be a part of it.
But even I had known that was a lie.
It was my decision as much as his. I’d stayed behind. I’d chosen this life just as much as he chose his.
His father said he was taking the morning ferry. No one was going with him. He’d asked everyone to stay behind, even Dean.
Even me.
Our blowout of a fight had solidified everything. I wasn’t going to chase after him, giving up my life so that he could start his.
And he refused to stay.
A crossroads—that was where we were, where we’d stay forever, I imagined.
I was so angry. So angry, it hurt. My chest ached from the pain of it.
I wanted to go after him to that pier and hurl all the anguish I felt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how we’d planned it.
But, as I’d recently learned, life had a way of screwing you over just when you thought everything was settled. So, rather than screaming the rage in my heart, I silently let him go.
I watched as his beat-up truck boarded that ferry, tears staining my cheeks, and I let him sail away.
For forever.
I awoke, the pain so real, I was sobbing. My ribs ached, and my throat stung as my body reminded me exactly what it felt like to lose Jake Jameson.
I couldn’t do it again.
I had to find a way to let go of him.
For good…even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
“I can’t believe you let him stay here again,” Millie said the moment she entered the kitchen that morning.
I’d already been up for several hours, trying to calm myself down from my vivid night of dreaming. I’d managed to bake two loaves of banana bread, and I was already elbow deep in cinnamon rolls.
I gave her a hard stare, not bothering to validate her question with an answer.
“Damn, what’s up with you? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” she asked. “Or maybe the wrong bed entirely?”
I held up my dough-covered hands in her direction. “In about two seconds, I’m going to take my sticky fingers and run them through your hair.”
She rolled her eyes, something she’d learned from me. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. But, seriously, what were you thinking?” she asked, her sights set on the coffee pot.
I wasn’t sure her version of leaving me alone was quite on par with my own. I watched as she poured herself a tall cup of coffee, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a tight tank top and flannel shorts.
“He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I answered, focusing my attention away from my little sister and back on my cinnamon rolls.
“He has a house!” she exclaimed. “A pretty nice one if I remember correctly.”
“Clearly, you haven’t been by the Jameson place lately. It’s gotten pretty run-down.” I placed the dough in a large bowl and set it on the counter to rise.
“That’s a shame. It’s a beautiful house. But that doesn’t discount the fact that it’s still Jake’s—run-down or not.”
I really hated talking about this with Millie. One, it was really none of her business, and it felt like gossip. Two, I hated being his defender.
“Look, like you said yesterday when you waltzed in here, this is my house now, and I’ll say who stays in it, okay?”
A sly smile spread across her gorgeous face. “Okay.”
We continued to move around in silence as I finished my morning chores in preparation for the new arrivals this afternoon, and she roamed around, looking for something to eat. I thought we’d moved on from the topic of Dr. Jameson until five minutes later when I found my little sister staring at me.
“What?” I said in frustration.
“It’s just…I can’t figure you two out. Are you into each other or not?”
“Not,” I said, hearing a male echo.
I looked over toward the entrance of the kitchen and found Jake standing there, his hair all messy from sleep, wearing a tight black shirt that left nothing to the imagination.
“Definitely not,” I lied, unsure of if I was trying to convince Millie or myself.
“Because that kiss last night—”
“Drop it, Millie!” I shouted, making her jump. The thunderous boom of my voice made her realize a second too late that I was beyond her taunting and usual teasing.
“I think I’m going to head into town for breakfast. Maybe I’ll find Billy and get in an apology for last night.”
“You do that,” I said flatly.
She scurried out of the room, leaving Jake and me alone in silence once again.
As I tried to ignore the sinfully hot man in the room, I attempted to make myself busy, scrubbing down counters that didn’t need it and checking my to-do list for the hundredth time. I felt his eyes on me the entire time.
“Look,” he finally said, “if it’s a problem—me being here—I can leave again. I don’t want to cause any strife between you and your sister.”
I turned, leaning against the counter to face him. He’d taken a seat at the kitchen table, a place I’d seen him in often. When we had been together, he’d often sneak over here in the mornings for my mother’s world-famous pancakes. Or whatever else she’d happened to be serving. He’d loved his mom to the moon and back, and he would be the first to admit that her cooking left something to be desired.
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “You need a place to stay, so you can stay here. We’re adult enough to make this work.”
His eyebrow cocked in pure denial of my statement. “But are we?” he asked. “I’ve been here for less than a week, and we’ve had our tongues down each other’s throat twice. And I’m not going to sit here and lie, saying I don’t want to do it again.”
I gulped, trying not to replay those particular memories in my head or create new ones.
“It’s just leftover lust,” I said. “It will pass.”
“See, that’s what I think, too,” he said. “I sat in bed last night, trying not to think of you in nothing but a flimsy nightgown—nothing separating us but a single set of stairs. It was goddamn torture.
I gulped trying to keep a clear head as I thought about my own torturous night. The aching pain I’d awoken with as my body and brain remembered the soul-sucking moment he’d left.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Jake,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
“You do. You just don’t want to admit that you feel the same way.”
My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I tried to deny it. “So what? So what if I feel the same way? Who cares, Jake? You want me, I want you, but nothing has changed. You still have a life in Chicago, and mine is here. Don’t tell me that somehow doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Only if we let it,” he replied.
His eyes were fixated on mine so intently, I could feel them burning all the way down to my very soul.
“What are you saying?”
He stood, leaving his coffee on the table, and took several long, slow strides forward. It was like watching a lion out in the wild. Every lean muscle in his body moved, flexing, as he came toward me.
God, he was beautiful.
“I’m saying, I want you, Molly.”
My breath hitched.
“And maybe I can’t have you forever like we planned all those years ago, but I won’t deny the chemistry we still have, that we’ll always have. Nor will I demean the life you’ve created and ask you to change it. But I will say this: give me a night, one night, to get this out of our systems, to say good-bye properly. Because, let’s be honest, we never gave ourselves the chance before.”
“One night?” I found myself repeating.
“One night,” he confirmed.
My mind reeled with his proposition. On one hand, I knew in the depths of my soul that one night would never be enough with this man. That one more night would probably destroy me, leaving me just as broken as that eighteen-year-old girl on the pier. That dream last night had reminded me of how much it had hurt, losing him the first time.
So much that I’d vowed I’d never do it again.
But seeing him standing here…I couldn’t deny the pull.
The need.
How I wanted to say yes. How I wanted to give in to this burning ache inside me, to quench the fire for this man who’d once been my everything.
“No,” I finally said, breaking eye contact as I made a run for it.
As much as I wanted to say yes, I’d made a promise to myself.
For myself.
For my sanity.
And, for once, I was putting my own needs first.
The next day, after avoiding a certain houseguest like the plague, life decided to punch me in the gut once again.
Most of the time, I loved living in a small town. When I was sick, people would bring me food. When there was a death in the community, everyone would gather and lift each other up.
But, when there was gossip, man, did it spread like wildfire.
And my kiss with Jake could have set a world record.
After serving my new guests, an adorable newly married couple from Oregon, my phone buzzed, showing a number I recognized instantly.
Dean.
Picking it up on the second ring, I heard his familiar voice summoning me to come visit him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
My heart plummeted, and although he didn’t say what it was regarding, I could only assume based on the timing.
I had nothing to feel ashamed about. After all, he had broken it off with me, using his mother no less as the messenger.
But I felt ashamed all the same.
The man I’d planned on marrying only a few days earlier was sitting in a hospital bed just hours up the road, and I’d acted like a fool in front of the entire town.
I left for the hospital that afternoon, feeling like the worst sort of creature on the face of the earth, and after the long drive up the coast, trying to come up with what I was going to say, I still had nothing as I walked through those double doors and asked for my visitor pass.
Part of me just wanted to turn around and run, but I didn’t. Dean and I had always been open and honest with each other. As much as I deserved answers for how he’d treated me, I owed him the same.
The trip up to the patient floor felt like an eternity. I was stuck in the elevator with an elderly couple going to meet their first grandchild. They were giddy, full of anticipation, with a huge bouquet of flowers for their daughter-in-law.
By the end of the thirty-second ride, I knew everything about them, including the name of the little girl, her weight and length, and how much she looked like their son—based on the pictures they’d seen.
I wished them good luck and hobbled out of the elevator. My ankle was still sore from my fall, but I refused to use the crutches Jake had given me. I’d limp my way toward recovery even if it took twice as long.
Feeling my heart leap as I rounded the corner toward Dean’s room, I was surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from it. Considering I had been worried for his mental health the last time I was here, this was an abrupt turn of events.
Peeking my head in, I found his head pointed toward the TV, a bowl of ice cream in his lap, as he laughed at a rerun of That ’70s Show. I gave a light knock on the door to let him know I’d arrived. His head turned away from the TV, and his eyes met mine.
“Oh, hey!” he greeted me cheerfully. “Come on in.”
Not exactly the welcome I’d expected, but I went with it, giving him a friendly smile and warm hug. He returned it in spades, and I relished in the feeling of his arm around me, knowing how close we had come to losing him.
I pulled back, taking a seat near his bed. He curiously eyed me, setting his half-eaten bowl of ice cream on a nearby tray. Watching him use his one hand so efficiently was like seeing another person entirely. He’d shaved since I was last here, and he’d switched out the hospital gown and blanket for some of his own clothes—a graphic tee bearing the logo of his family’s business and an old pair of athletic shorts from high school.
“You look good,” I said, meaning every word.
He smiled. “Thanks. I feel good. Or, at least, I’m getting there.”
His eyes roamed over me just then. Not with the usual perusal of a male staking his claim, but more of a curious glance, as if he were taking stock of my well-being.
“How are you?” he asked as his gaze steadied on mine.
“Good, I think,” I answered with honesty.
“How are things at home?”
I shrugged. “My sister is home for a while.”
He smiled. “So, crazy then?”
I laughed, followed by a nod. “Yes, definitely. She nearly got us arrested the other night.”
He shook his head, not appearing shocked in the least. “That sounds like Millie. Anything to liven the place up.”
“Well, she is used to a faster pace of life nowadays.”
“I think she was born at a faster pace than the rest of us.”
I nodded, laughing in agreement, and then a silence settled in. I looked around, noticing several things from home. His iPad and several paperbacks. A deck of cards he loved to play solitaire with even though I’d shown him a hundred different apps on his phone and a cheap spiral notebook he used to jot down thoughts throughout the day.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here,” he said, bringing my attention back to those dark green eyes of his.
I nodded but added, “You don’t need a reason for me to visit Dean but I was kind of hoping for some answers.”
He nodded, looking down at his fingers as he rubbed his thumb. “You deserve that much.”
I allowed him time to gather his thoughts, as I tried not to stare at the right side of his body. It was hard not to. I’d known this man since I was barely able to form complete sentences. If I had any artistic ability at all, I could trace out his likeness down to each freckle on his face, every laugh line around his handsome smile.
The stump, as the doctors called it suddenly made him so different. So foreign.
I couldn’t help but fixate on it.
“It’s okay to look at it,” Dean finally said.
“I wasn’t, I mean—“
A smile spread across his face. “Yes you were. But it’s fine Mols. I know it’s weird. Hell, it’s strange for me too.”
“Is it getting any better?” I asked hesitantly.
He looked down at his arm, severed harshly across the middle of his bicep. It was covered neatly in white gauze but eventually, it would all be removed and there would be fresh clean skin covering the wound.
“A little,” he replied. “I still wake up everyday and it feels like that moment after the surgery. Like I’m coming out of a dream. But then I look down and I realize it happened. This happened.”
I grabbed his left hand and squeezed. He gave me a sad smile in return, threading our fingers together.
“But I didn’t ask you to come here so you could feel sorry for me. I asked you here to apologize for being such an ass the other day. There were a hundred different ways I could have made that easier on you, but instead I chose the worst possible option.”
I bit my lip to keep the emotions at bay. “Your mother says she’s going to give you a piece of her mind when she sees you next.”
He let out a chuckle. “Oh she already has, don’t worry. Jake too.”
“Jake?” I said in surprise.
He nodded. “He overheard you and my mother that day and must have stomped up to his room and called me.”
“What did he say?”
“Well there was a lot of yelling involved.”
I found myself smiling a little.
“He’s a good guy Molly.”
“I’ve never doubted that,” I said. “But we’re not here to discuss Jake, are we?”
He laughed, a full boisterous laugh as I tried to change the subject. I asked him how he was getting along, and he told me about his trials and accomplishments over the past few days.
“You have no idea how hard it is to get into a wheelchair with one arm and a broken ankle,” he said grinning just as a knock on the door was heard.
“I can’t imagine,” I replied, watching as an adorable redhead walked in. She gave me a polite smile but didn’t truly light up until her eyes met Deans.
“And how is my favorite patient today?” she asked.
“Pretty good Cora, thanks.”
I watched as he sat up straighter and answered all her questions, checking his vitals as they made small talk. I faded into the background so I could observe them together. There was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there. An excitement.
I saw it within her as well.
She soon finished up and said her goodbyes, and like a vacuum, all sound followed her as she left.
Dean fiddled with his blanket for a full minute before I spoke up.
“You totally have a crush on your nurse!”
He didn’t bother denying it. “God, is it that obvious?”
I laughed. “What that you’re completely besotted over her? No, not at all.”
He chuckled. “I missed this,”
“What?”
“Our friendship,” he answered, making my breath catch.
“What do you mean? We’ve always been friends.”
“Yeah, but it changed when we added the intimacy. When there should have been more transparency between us, I think it only served to distance us. Remember when we were kids and the three of us—you, Jake, and me—could tell each other anything? When you and Jake got together, that didn’t change between the two of you.”
“But it did for us,” I agreed, seeing it now.
We’d once been the three amigos. So inseparable, our parents had become best friends as well. Everyone had known Jake and I had a thing for each other, but we refused to act on it, scared the friendship between us would somehow sever if we became romantically linked.
But, eventually, we couldn’t deny our feelings, and when freshman year had rolled around, we’d finally given in and discovered that not only were we wrong, but we were also actually stronger because of it.
That was, until Jake’s mother had died.
“So, tell me about this nurse of yours,” I said, allowing my friend to indulge himself for a moment.
Because he was right. Somewhere along the way, we had lost this—our friendship, the part of us that was most sacred. Where Jake and I had been strongest in love, Dean and I were most suited for friendship.
Something we’d both forgotten.
Until now.
“She’s like Mother Teresa—with a nice ass,” he said, making me laugh instantaneously. He went on, explaining her other special traits and assets. The way she read to the elderly man in the room next to him or how she always arrived in his room with a smile.
I was happy for him Truly, I was.
I didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of jealousy, listening as he spoke about another woman. It was then that I realized just how wrong we were for each other. While jealousy should never be in the forefront of a relationship, having a healthy amount of it wasn’t always bad.
In our sophomore year, there was a senior who had gotten it in her head that Jake was delusional in his love for me and should instead date her. After her relentless letters in his locker and surprise visits at his house, I’d had enough.
I’d shown up at school, ready for war, wearing the hottest dress I owned. Looking back, it was probably something my sister would consider juvenile, but to my sixteen-year-old self, I was a badass in that outfit. I’d strutted down the halls, found my man, and marked him with a fiery kiss right in front of that bitch.
She never talked to him again.
Jealousy.
Sometimes, it had its advantages.
Thinking back to all the passing glances in Dean’s direction, all the cheesy pick-up lines I’d heard from beautiful young tourists out by the docks, I’d never had an ounce of jealousy with Dean compared to that one instance with Jake.
“I’m happy for you,” I said. “She sounds heavenly.”
He smirked, and I couldn’t help but smile back. A few days ago, I had been scared I’d never see that smile again.
“Look, I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting the last few days. I know it’s been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and it wasn’t fair to you—what I did or the way I did it.”
I nodded, thinking back to that moment when I had seen the hurt in my eyes reflecting back in Dean’s mother’s as she asked for the family ring back. I’d been so caught up in the shock of it all that, when it was all said and done, I’d come to the conclusion that, besides the raw hurt over the way he’d gone about it, the only other emotion I’d felt was relief.
“You just went through something horrible, Dean. No one expects you to be perfect,” I finally said. “And I haven’t exactly been displaying model behavior over the last few days either.”
“No one expects you to be perfect either,” he reminded me.
“Can you at least explain to me why?” I asked, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair.
“Why I thought we should break it off? I thought that would be obvious by now.”
“No,” I said, holding up a hand. “I understand that. Really, I do. Maybe I didn’t at first, but I do now. What I mean is, why did you send your mom after me when I’d just been at the hospital hours earlier?”
He let out a rough breath and attempted to adjust his position in the bed, trying to prop himself up with only one arm. I watched as he struggled, and my heart went out to him. Until his accident, I hadn’t really thought about how much a person used their arm muscles. Not just for lifting, but also for simple movements like holding hands or reaching for something. Every motion and action I performed on a daily basis was a constant reminder of how different Dean’s life was now.
How would I take the news?
How would I handle the loss?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew I didn’t have the foundation or ability to judge him.
So, I did what a friend would do.
I listened.
“When I woke up from surgery and realized I hadn’t died on that ferry, my first thought was elation. I’d survived. Somehow, God had spared my life that day and, Lord help me, if I wouldn’t spend every day after trying to convince him I deserved it. But then I found out about my arm, about the fact that I’d never be able dress myself—or make dinner for my Mom again—without assistance or a damn prosthetic. How every day would be a constant struggle.
“Someone mentioned the word handicapped. They were talking about me. I was the handicapped person. And, suddenly, it wasn’t praises I was sending up to God; it was condemnation. I cursed him for leaving me here, broken and useless. I begged him for answers. Why didn’t he just take me home that night because I didn’t want to live like this? I didn’t want to be alive if this was the only alternative.”
“Oh, Dean,” I said, tears falling down my cheeks. I reached out for that one perfect hand once more and felt his large fingers intertwine with mine.
“I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t entertain the idea of just ending it. It’s been a rough road. I spent hours in this bed coming up with ways I could do it. When you and Jake came to visit, I came up with the perfect plan. I was going to take one of the fishing boats, a small one that no one would immediately miss, and ride it out to the middle of nowhere—one-handed, mind you. When I made my peace with the world, I’d finish off a bottle of pain meds from the doctors and watch my last sunrise.”
I didn’t say anything, but I wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much he still had to live for, how much he meant to those who loved and adored him—like his mom and brothers.
Like me.
But, instead, I let him talk because sometimes, listening was the most powerful thing you could do.
“I sat back in this bed, my prison, watching the two of you, noticing the way you constantly fought the need to look at each other. Touch each other. It only fueled my hate—not for the two of you, but for myself. In my toxic little world, I decided everything revolved around me and for some reason the universe had turned its back on me so I’d do the same to it.
“That’s why you called your mom,” I stated, watching him nod.
“I’m so sorry. It didn’t take but a day for me to realize how crazy I was behaving. I told you I’ve been on a roller coaster. I meant it. It’s a nonstop up-and-down kind of thing with my emotions.”
“And the sexy saint of a nurse? How does she fit into all of this?” I asked.
He let out a long sigh. “She doesn’t. At least for now. I can’t afford to bring anyone else into this mess right now. I feel good today, but tomorrow, who knows? I need to work on getting better, both physically and mentally. And then we’ll work on making lovely Nurse Cora mine.” He grinned a mischievous sort of smile that I recognized instantly.
“Poor girl.” I smiled.
“So, you forgive me?” he asked, our eyes meeting once again.
“Only if you forgive me. And, besides, it would be hard not to, sitting next to you in this hospital bed.” I laughed with a sly smirk across my face.
“Good. I’d hate to send my mom after you again.”
I chuckled. “I thought she was going to have a stroke, Dean. Shame on you!”
We continued to talk while he polished off the rest of his ice cream. He told me about his recovery. He was honest, saying the pain was intense and he was scared. I completely understood.
I was scared for him.
“So, what’s new with you—besides Millie giving you grief?” he asked.
I bit my lip before blurting out, “I kissed Jake.”
His eyes widened before he burst into another fit of laughter. “That didn’t take long.”
“Shut up!” I said, trying to keep from smiling. “If you weren’t in that hospital bed, I’d chuck something at your head.”
“Hey, my head is still as solid as a rock. It’s the rest of me that’s a little beaten up. Is that why you looked so damn nervous when you walked in here? Because you thought I’d somehow found out?”
I shrugged. “Well, word does get around quick. I figured you’d heard by now, and you were going to call me out on it.”
“And what would I have said? Hey, I’m really mad that you went after the love of your life, especially when I let you go with such gentlemanly tact.”
I rolled my eyes. “He is not the love of my life.”
“Oh, okay, so we’re still in the denial phase. Sorry, I’m just trying to get caught up.”
“You know, I think I liked it when you were less talkative,” I said, immediately hating myself for the comment.
He apparently didn’t because he smiled like a Cheshire cat and threw a comeback before I could even blink, “Oh, come on, Mols. You two are crazy for each other. When are you going to realize that? When is he?”
“He meets one hot nurse, and suddenly, he’s a love expert,” I mumble.
His hand found mine once again, but he was doing the squeezing this time. “Look, I’m not trying to give advice here—no, scratch that. I am trying to give advice here because I’ve watched you guys play this hit-or-miss game for far too long. And, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole ferryboat ordeal, it’s that our lives are not infinite. You don’t always get a second or third chance for these kinds of things.”
“Is that why you let me go?”
“Not for my second chance,” he said. “For yours.”
I took a ragged breath. “He’s going back to Chicago, Dean. Nothing will keep him here. Not even me.”
“Then, take what you can get, Mols, even if it’s a week or a month. Hell, take a day. Love doesn’t have an expiration date, and God knows, you two prove that point. It’s been so many years, yet when he looks into your eyes, Molly, there’s no one else. Just you.”
“I can’t lose him again,” I said, my voice cracking, as tears flooded my vision.
He pulled me close, and our foreheads met.
“My heart would never recover.”
“Love is messy. You and I know that most of all. Sometimes, it’s good, and sometimes, it’s so bad, your heart feels like it’s been dragged across the ocean by a hook. But, looking back, would you be more regretful over what you didn’t do or what you did?”
I looked up into his eyes, my lips pursing together to keep the tears at bay. “When did you become so wise?” I asked, sniffling, as I wiped away the moisture from my eyes.
He shrugged. “Part of the package of a near-death experience. I can also glow in the dark.”
I laughed as he pulled me onto the bed for a side hug.
We stayed like that until visiting hours were nearly over, and it was time to go home. I wished him good luck with his nurse and promised to visit again soon.
He told me to be brave and take a risk every now and then.
And then we said good-bye.
It was the breakup we should have had, and I was so thankful I had come. My heart felt light and heavy at the same time. So weightless from the hours I’d spent with Dean, chatting like old friends again, but then the heaviness settled in on the ride home as I thought about Jake and the offer he’d given me.
One night.
Could my heart handle it?
What about every night after?