She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 11: Jason

Friday morning, I’m just finishing with my kickboxing class and soaking in that adrenaline rush when I hear my phone ringing in my gym bag. I hurry over to retrieve it, still covered in athletic tape and dripping in sweat when I answer. The voice on the other end is a complete stranger. He sounds pleasant, but I’m immediately annoyed that he interrupted my adrenaline high.

That is until I find out what his call is about.

“This is Buddy Evans at Reggie’s Diner over on Main Street. I know you dropped an application at my other location, but I was wondering if your interest is limited to there or if you’d be interested in a position I have available at Reggie’s,” the man explains.

“Sure. I’m open to just about anything,” I answer him agreeably, all traces of annoyance suddenly gone.

I remember seeing a sign for Reggie’s when I went to apply at that café, and I remember it being close to where Ronnie lives. I didn’t think I’d stand a chance at getting hired there though. The place serves a full menu, and even has a bar, and I have zero experience working at restaurants.

“Good, good. Now, I’m going to be completely up front about my interest in you," he says, his cheerful tone taking on an all-business, no nonsense edge to it. "My partner tells me you’re a young guy in rock solid shape, and that’s what sets you apart for me. I have the dishwasher or bus boy positions in mind for you, on paper you know, but the honest truth is I also need some help with moving a bunch of stuff around in the back. And on your application, it said you’re looking for summer employment, so you’re perfect for this.”

“Yeah, honestly, it sounds right up my alley. Did you need me to come in for an interview or anything?”

“Sure, sure. That’s what I was about to ask,” he laughs, and the sound of it has me picturing a middle-aged guy with a bit of a gut who likes to toss back a few beers and play some pool for a good time. “You can come in this afternoon if you’re free, or tomorrow works too.”

“I’m free this afternoon, and happy to come in.”

“Alright, perfect. See you then.”

And with that, he cuts off the call. He didn’t give a specific time, so I’m guessing I just need to go in there, ask for Buddy, and hope for the best. If his phone etiquette is any indication of how he is as a boss, I’m thinking this job will be pretty chill and the perfect fit for a summer where my primary goal is to be available for Ronnie.

Who sends me a text a little while later when I’m waiting in line at a smoothie shop for my post-workout pick-me-up. I will say that one thing I’m not liking about the prospect of staying in a motel all summer is this, where I have no access to a kitchen and have to order all my food. But my annoyance about that disappears completely when I dig out my phone and see that it’s a picture message my mate has sent me.

It’s her cuddling with two identical younger girls, obviously these mysterious sisters I’ve been hearing so much about, and she’s captioned it, They really can be cute sometimes.

Which leaves me with a dilemma. Respond with what immediately popped in my head and take a chance on flirting a little, or send something safer and more neutral? I decide to split the difference and send a watered-down version of my flirty text.

I see three cute young ladies in that photo. They look so much like you.

And they really do. They share her same dark hair, though theirs appears curlier than hers, and their faces have a similar shape to what I’d imagine she looked like at that age. The difference is in the eyes. Theirs are dark, and hers are that piercing bright blue that I’ve grown to love so much.

I worry a little when it takes her a minute to respond, but eventually she says, the one on the left is Amy and on the right is Ashley, completely glossing over my flirty compliment.

Ah well. At least she’s still talking to me and sharing little bits of her life with me. I had wondered the names of her sisters.

Did your mom name them? I can’t help wondering. I know she said before that they were adopted as babies.

No, her sister. They were about six months old when we lost my aunt to a car wreck. Her name was Angela, so I guess she decided she wanted to stick with the A theme.

That’s so like Ronnie to tuck the tragic, emotional bit in between two other pieces of information. It’s almost like she wants to skip over that part, to take away from how much it hurts by making it seem unimportant.

But knowing that my sympathy will do little to help her feel better and assuming she probably doesn’t want to talk about it, I do pretty much the same in my response.

I’m so sorry to hear that, but I'm glad that you and your mom have been there for them. What are you ladies up to today?

I’ll be teaching them how to make grilled cheese in a bit. They keep asking for it, so I told them if they want grilled cheese so much, they better learn to make it themselves. And surprisingly, they were excited about that. I was much younger when I started cooking, so I suppose it’s about time for them to learn anyway.

Wow, I got a whole paragraph. Maybe it’s in my head and I’m overthinking it, but I’ve noticed that over time, as she seems to get more comfortable with me, her responses get longer and more detailed like that. It feels like her letting me in, in contrast to what she probably would have told me a week ago. Something short and to the point like, Making grilled cheese.

And let’s not forget the part where every time we’ve talked this week, she’s started it. For the past few days, it’s been every day, including the night when she called me. Today, I even got a picture. I’m trying to resist letting myself get my hopes up too high, but it’s so hard not to when it seems like there’s so much evidence pointing to it working out this time.

I think they’re the perfect age for that. I’ll be cheering them on from over here.

It’s my turn at the counter when I hear her next response come through, so I try to hurry it along. There’s a sign on the counter asking customers to refrain from using their cell phones while they’re being served, so despite my urge to ignore it and check my texts, I stand there following the rules and shifting my weight around impatiently. When the girl hands me a strawberry protein shake instead of a chocolate one, I realize I wasn’t even paying much attention to that whole interaction, but I’m not even sorry. At least strawberry was fast.

I take it over to the nearest table and pull out my phone to see that Ronnie asked what I’m up to today. Hmm, good question. How forthcoming should I be about this?

I start by taking a selfie and sending that to her, hoping she’ll appreciate it since she sent me one first. I caption it, post-workout smoothie bliss in-progress, and decide to wait to see what she says before offering more than that. I’m going to have to tell her where I am eventually if I’m going to be working at Reggie’s, but I figure I’ll wait until I find out if I even got the job first.

You don’t strike me as the berry type, she answers a moment later, and I can’t help smiling about that. She’s right, I’m not, and for whatever reason, even though I know she’s just teasing me, it makes me feel warm all over that she might have figured that out.

Honestly, it was an accidental order. I wasn’t paying attention. This strawberry flavor is cloyingly sweet and I’m not a fan.

Oh I see. Your use of ‘smoothie bliss’ was ironic then I take it. Doesn’t sound very blissful.

But then a second later she sends a follow-up text, and I panic a little at the sight of her pointed question.

Where are you?

And not even a split-second later, she adds, I see a sign in the background for vacation rentals on Shrader Lake, which isn’t far from here. Is it a different Shrader Lake?

Uh-oh. Busted. I didn’t even think about what was in the background or whether she might recognize the place, but I should have. I know she’s highly observant, but I was swept up in the flow of our conversation.

I’ve also hated keeping this from her. I hope she doesn’t get upset, but I’m actually kind of glad to finally be able to tell her.

Yeah, Aly gave me some time off and I decided to stick around here for a while. It’s the same Shrader Lake. I’m not far from you.

Oh.

That’s the only response I get for a few seconds, which sends my brain into overdrive. That means she’s going quiet on me again, and I hate it. I should have handled this better.

When were you planning to tell me? She asks next.

It’s a good question, but how do I answer it? The truth, I guess. My mind is racing, recalling our conversation from the other night when she was ranting about her mom keeping things from her because she doesn’t think Ronnie can handle it, and I realize I’ve been doing the same thing. For good reason, or so I thought, but it still isn’t fair to her.

I’ve wanted to tell you since I got here, but I didn’t know how you’d take it. I don’t want it to seem like I’m stalking you, because I’m not, but I do want to be close. It’s my hope that at some point you’ll want to meet up, and I didn’t want to be across the country when that happens.

A couple minutes go by, and there’s no response. I’m about ready to tear my hair out. There’s a small part of me that wants to lash out and tell her, “See? See why people keep things from you?”

But that’s not the real me. That’s the scared little boy in me who worries that he just screwed it all up and needs someone to blame for it.

I’m really sorry, Ronnie. If you want me to pack my bags and go home, then I will. Just say the word.

It kills me to send that one, but I do it anyway. I know it’s the right thing to do. If my being here makes her that uncomfortable, then I shouldn’t be here.

You’re a grown man. You can go wherever you want to go. You just should have told me, she finally responds.

I don’t know how to take that. I think she’s irritated, but should I interpret it as a good sign that I handed her the control, and she didn’t tell me to leave? That would probably be celebrating prematurely. But still, I’m somewhat relieved that she didn’t send me away.

You’re right, and I knew that. It went through my mind every time we’ve talked, but I was scared. I feel like we’ve made a lot of progress, and I didn’t want you to push me away again.

Progress toward what? What is your end goal here?

Uh oh. I don’t think I can tell her that one. Well, maybe I can if I’m careful.

The way I see it is kind of like on one end, there’s the two of us leading completely separate lives and never really getting close. On the other, there’s us living a life together. And where we are now is somewhere in between there. Obviously, I want the second one, but I know you don’t. So, my goal for now is to figure out at what point between those two extremes we can come to rest and both be happy. The progress we’ve made is coming away from only being complete strangers, to now where I would consider us to at least be friends.

I think that’s the first time that I’ve ever texted a paragraph. I feel like it tells everything I need to say to her, but it worries me to be that up front with her so soon.

And you can handle just being my friend? comes her response after a few torturous minutes.

I prefer it to the alternative of being nothing to you at all.

Which is probably the most honest thing I could possibly say. That’s the summary of how I feel. I want her, I want everything with her, but I’ll take whatever she is willing to give me. Even this week of mostly just texting has been so much better than the years of nothing.

Wouldn’t you prefer someone who isn’t so much work that you can just be with?

It breaks my heart to read that. Does she really think so little of herself as to think that she could be so easily replaced? I’ve never even met another person like Ronnie, and even if I had, she’s the one for me. I know it. I feel it. And I wish she could see it too.

No. Never. It’s you, or no one, and my Mama didn’t raise a quitter.

I hope that’s not too much, but it felt like time to add a little playfulness in there. In my head, I’m picturing the way she would stubbornly try to fight the urge to smile when she sees that last part.

The girls are hungry, so I guess it’s showtime. We’ll talk later.

I guess that’s the end of that then. I came into this conversation on cloud nine, feeling like everything was going great, but now I kind of feel like going back to the motel and crawling under the covers to brood for the rest of the day.

Except I can’t. I have that interview with Buddy soon.

Oh crap. Should I have mentioned that to her?