Near and Far
Page 32

Mom leaned into the kitchen doorway and smiled. “Jess, that’s the first responsible thing I’ve heard you say in weeks.”
I smiled back at Mom. No one could have stopped me, but getting through the front door without a fight was a weight off my shoulders. “Will you tell Dad? I’ll call you tonight once I get there and know how long I’ll be.”
“I’ll tell him.”
Needing to get behind the wheel and start ticking off some miles, I opened the front door.
“Wait! If you think I’m letting you drive ten hours nonstop like I know you will”—she gave me an accusatory look—“with an empty stomach, you really don’t know the woman who raised you.” After rushing into the kitchen, Mom hurried back with a lunch box and a thermos. “Since my summer help up and quit with no notice last night, I had to get up early to make breakfast burritos. I already have half a batch done, so you’re in luck. The coffee’s fresh and strong.” She winked and handed me a road-trip breakfast, lunch, and hopefully not dinner. If I pushed it, I’d be in Seattle before five.
“About Jolene . . . I’m sorry, Mom.” I didn’t realize she would quit after our conversation last night, but maybe I should have. I hated that it put my mom and my sisters in a tough spot.
“No apologies, sweetie. I think it was pretty obvious to all of us why Jolene took the job. And it sure wasn’t for the dish washing.”
I sighed, not sure what else I could say. All I’d done was make a mess of things lately. Shooting her a small smile of apology, I continued out the door.
“Good luck, Jess,” she called after me. “Don’t be afraid to pay Rowen back the favor she gave you last summer.”
I hopped in Old Bessie, pausing long enough to give her a confused look.
“Opening up.” She stared at me like she was trying to really drill that one in and headed back inside.
I fired up the engine and was too impatient to let it warm up before punching the gas. Every trip past, I’d felt a bit lighter with every mile that brought me closer to Rowen. That trip, though, I felt like a band was tightening around my chest with every mile. I didn’t know why or what that meant, but I pressed on. I’d face my worst nightmares ten times over to get to Rowen.
Chapter Seventeen
IF THEY HANDED out awards for Worst Girlfriend of the Month, I’d be the front runner.
I couldn’t believe I fell apart like that on the phone with Jesse. I suppose it was all thanks to the perfect storm of bad timing. Jesse had enough on his plate; he didn’t need to deal with me losing my shit when he was hundreds of miles away.
I could tell something had been going on with him, but every time I’d tried to bring it up, I couldn’t figure out how to fit it into the conversation. As his girlfriend, I should be able to figure out how to ask him how he’s doing, call bullshit when he says fine, and wait in stubborn silence until he ‘fessed up. Not getting to the bottom of what Jesse was dealing with was one of the many reasons I should be preparing my acceptance speech for the Worst Girlfriend of the Month award.
Another reason? Answering the phone when I’d been up all night crying my bloody eyes out. That was one giant “my bad” on my part. After closing Mojo last night, I’d gotten home a little after two in the morning, tried going to bed, and failed. Then I proceeded to have the most legendary meltdown of my life. Everything I’d been holding at bay the past month, everything I’d stuck my head in the sand at, flooded over me, and it was too much. Too much times twenty. I cried, I sobbed, hell, I even wailed. Alex was with Sid, probably still locked away in his office doing lord knows what to each other, so I hadn’t needed to worry about waking anyone with my dying cat cries. As a policy, I didn’t do crying all that often, but when I did, I didn’t mess around. I was the best crier out there when it came time to let loose.
So why had I answered Jesse’s call early this morning after sobbing into my pillow so long it was soggy? Because I couldn’t ignore it. Because I felt like Jesse knew I needed him. Because he was the only person who could comfort me. Because I had to answer that phone call. It wasn’t a logical string of thoughts; it was all instinctive.
Hearing his voice had been a relief, hearing the solid strength that had been lacking lately. His voice soothed me. Until he said he was getting in his truck and heading west. I already felt bad—for the reasons already mentioned—but knowing he was dropping all of his responsibilities because I’d gotten weepy made me feel like I might just secure the Worst Girlfriend title for two months instead of one. I was just that bad of a girlfriend.
Neil and Rose depended on him. Willow Springs depended on him. His fellow ranch hands depended on him. Hell, the cattle depended on him. And letting my iron wall fall had made him drop it all.
Another part of me was scared of him showing up because I knew I’d have to tell him about the internship. I’d have to admit that I’d been hiding it from him, expecting to never get it, and I knew he’d want to know what my plans were. Would I take it? Stay in Seattle for the summer? He deserved answers. The problem was, I didn’t have answers to give him yet. I had no clue what I was going to do, and I wasn’t sure if having Jesse there would help me make up my mind or make it harder.
So, last night had been a mess. Early that morning had been a mess. Then later morning rolled around, and Jax’s phone calls started coming in. One right after the other, every five minutes it seemed. When I ignored those, the texts came. Have you decided? You want me to tell them you’ll take it, right? Are you ignoring me? Why are you ignoring me? You’re taking the internship. I’m telling them yes if you don’t get back to me by tomorrow morning.
After that last text, I’d powered down my phone, thrown my pillow over my head, and gone to sleep instead of my morning classes. I was still sleeping during my afternoon classes, but I forced myself out of bed when it was time to head to work. I could jeopardize my own future by not going to classes, but I couldn’t jeopardize Sid’s and Mojo’s. That was a whole heap of bad karma I didn’t need poured on me.
Coming up on nine, I started to accept that Jesse had changed his mind. Really, that was the responsible thing to do, and I was fine for the most part. I tried to convince myself to be glad he’d stayed behind because I knew that was the right decision, but even at my most convincing, I couldn’t chase away the pang of disappointment.
A part of me had clung to the hope that I’d be able to put my arms around Jesse in the flesh and blood. Accepting that wasn’t going to happen was disappointing in a way I couldn’t describe. I felt like I’d swallowed an iron ball and it was trapped in my stomach, making it difficult to take each step.
Realizing Jesse had probably been trying to call me all day to tell me about the change in plans, I was heading to the back room to get my phone when Mojo’s door swung open. I had my back to it, but I knew who’d just rushed inside. I was smiling before I spun around.
I’d never seen Jesse so disheveled. I didn’t think it was possible. I’d seen him dirty and mussed after a long day on the ranch, but his appearance went beyond that. Combined with the anxious expression on his face and in his eyes, it scared me.
“Thank god,” he said, striding my way. Before I could ask if he was okay or why he looked like he’d just crawled out of hell, he had me in his arms. He pulled me to him, almost clinging to me, like I could slip away in an instant.
I exhaled, letting out a day’s worth of worry. Right then, everything was fine. Nothing stood in Jesse’s and my way. Nothing threatened to tear us apart. I wiped the tear that had slipped from my eye before he could see it. Apparently the flood gates hadn’t been completely lifted. “You came.”
Lifting his hands to my face, he lowered his forehead to mine. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
When I thought about that, really thought about it, I knew the answer. “No, I didn’t.”
“Are you okay?” He scanned me with a furrowed brow.
“I am now,” I replied truthfully. A month’s worth of separation, weeks’ worth of worry . . . it all vanished with his touch. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that Jesse’s touch was some powerful stuff. I could only hope mine provided him even half the relief.
I was glad that Mojo was pretty quiet, not that it would have stopped me. I lifted my mouth to Jesse’s, braced my arms around his neck, and got after making up for lost time. He didn’t seem to have any objections.
His hands fisted into my shirt, and he kissed me back, hard and unyielding. Our chests rose and fell in time, reminding me that when we were together, everything made sense. Life didn’t seem so confusing; the answers didn’t seem so complex. When Jesse and I were close enough to share the same breath, confusion and uncertainty were distant memories. We didn’t stop until oxygen, or lack thereof, became a concern.
Jesse’s lips pressed into mine one more time before a contented smile moved into place. “It’s been so long, I almost forgot how good you taste.”
As the haze of that kiss lifted, I noticed something too. “It’s been a while, but I don’t remember you tasting like . . . like”—I tasted my lips, my face crinkling—“like motor oil.”
“Do I want to know how you know what motor oil tastes like?” Jesse leaned back enough that I could see what was responsible for the bitter taste. A good quarter of Jesse’s face was streaked with black lines and fingerprints. Motor oil.
“Probably not,” I answered. “But enough about me and motor oil . . . I want to know about you and motor oil and why you’re covered in it.” After I took a small step back, I saw that the same went for his clothes and the rest of his body. Black streaks and smudges ran all over him. Truthfully, it was kinda hot in a way that would only work on Jesse Walker.
“Well”—he rubbed the back of his neck and gave me a sheepish look—“it turns out you were right all along.”
“Right about what exactly?”
“Old Bessie. She broke down on me about halfway through the panhandle of Idaho. And you were right about something else—North Idaho is its own country. A marginally terrifying one.” He was still smiling, but I could tell it was mask to cover his sadness that his truck had finally given out on him. Beyond explanation, I was kind of sad, too.
“Old Bessie finally pooped out on you, eh?”
Jesse nodded.
Trying to lighten the mood, I said in my best funeral voice, “She lived a full, happy life. I know it’s difficult, but during these trying times, try to focus on the happy memories. The reminder that Old Bessie is in truck heaven.”
“It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten this, too.”
“Forgot what?” I asked, not missing the smile he was fighting.
“This!” Holding me tight, Jesse’s fingers pinched and prodded at my sides until tears were about to run down my face from the laughter.
“Stop it!” I laughed, trying to swat away his hands. “Stop it, Jesse!”