A week from the night of the party, I'm walking down the school hallway and end up passing Lacey on the way to my locker. Our gazes lock as we move in opposite directions, Lacey's blue eyes icy as they narrow into a death glare. If looks could kill, I'd be long gone by now. I shudder once our encounter is over, wondering how something as simple as a glance in my direction can get under my skin, while also pondering how seriously Lacey is going to take the threats she used against me at the party.
Turning the combination into my lock, I pull open the door to my locker and try to tell myself the glance I just shared with Lacey doesn't mean anything. I haven't even spoken to her once since the party, and—as far as I know—neither has Jack. Lacey's last attempt to tear me and Jack apart didn't work, but that doesn't mean she's not going to try again. And the more time that passes after she threatened me with nothing but silence from Lacey, the more uneasy I become. I mean, she can only be laying low because she's planning something, right? I doubt Lacey would ever just accept the fact Jack and I are together. All of this worrying is becoming exhausting, however. In all honesty, part of me wishes Lacey would get her revenge on me for "stealing" her boyfriend over with already. That'd be better than feeling on edge all of the time, constantly expecting the worst and waiting for Lacey to make her next move.
Since Jack and I first started dating, I've caught Lucas and Lacey huddled together in the hallways multiple times, which is the sketchiest part out of all this drama. It's no secret that Lucas and Lacey have never liked each other, yet all of a sudden they seem to be inseparable. Whenever I spot them talking to each other, I always notice their heads bent closely as they whisper amongst themselves. The second they notice me staring, they always pull away from each other quickly, scattering down the hall before I can piece together what could be going on between the two.
I try not to let the sight of my ex (boyfriend and friend in general) and my boyfriend's ex together bother me too much, yet it's harder than it should be to let it go. As far as I know, Lucas and Lacey have absolutely nothing in common, unless you count me and Jack. I don't want to believe that either of them are the kind of people that would seriously go out of their way seeking revenge after a high school break up, but I'm not so sure anymore. Of course, I could just be paranoid.
But I can't shake the feeling that I'm on to something.
I shake my head and exhale sharply as I close my locker, trying to release my thoughts. I just need a moment to myself; need to find somewhere I can clear my head. I end up in front of the door to the office before I know it, my feet leading me to the destination without any thought. I guess my subconscious knew a visit with Elena is just what I need to take my mind off of everything else I have going on, as she never fails to make me laugh and feel better when I'm down without even having to try.
I've grown pretty close to Elena in the time since I've moved here, stopping by the front office to see her whenever I get the chance. She grew up here in Aster Pines, and even went to school with my father. I haven't had as much time to visit her lately, and this thought makes me realize just how much I've missed her. Elena is always fun to be around, and it's almost as if she's just another student. She has a tendency to make me laugh no matter what mood I'm in, and she's loaded with stories of my father when he was in high school.
When I reach the front office to stop by and talk with her, I'm surprised to find that Elena isn't alone. I brush the realization to the side, assuming it's merely another student who needed a pass or help with a schedule or something. Entering the office, I'm almost stunned when it hits me that the person speaking to Elena isn't a student at all. In fact, I know the man she's talking to well, considering he raised me. I'm glad my presence hasn't yet been made known as I stare at my dad, who is leaning over the front desk as he talks to Elena with a faint smile. So far, everything looks normal, just two old friends catching up while they have the chance.
And yet something about the scene sets me on edge, this odd something's happening feeling rushing through my veins. I study the pair before me intently, paying attention to every last detail. My dad's blue eyes wrinkle around the corners as he smiles down at Elena, his grin the widest I've seen him smile since Mom passed. Dad laughs loudly at something Elena has said, broad shoulders shaking with the gesture. Elena's dark brown eyes gleam brightly as she offers my father a smug smile, as if knowing that she's funny without him having to tell her. Then she's laughing, too, dark hair tumbling down her shoulders in effortless waves, a few strands falling into her face. And then my dad is raising a hand to Elena's cheek, tucking her unruly hair back in place, hand lingering on her skin a few beats longer than necessary, their gazes meeting as the laughter in the room fades.
My eyes widen in horror at the sight before me, and suddenly it's hard to even think straight. Because I know this moment. I've had my own version of this moment with Jack. I'm much too familiar with the flirting and the laughing and the hair-brushing and cheek-touching. I've always known my father and Elena go way back and that they grew up and went to school together all their lives, but I never fathomed . . . This can't be happening. It just can't. I mean, that's my dad. And Elena. Dad would never . . . we only lost Mom a few years ago . . . and dad loved her, he wouldn't . . .
I think I'm going to be sick.
Unable to bear watching whatever it is going down between my father and Elena, I turn around on my heel sharply, storming out of the office as quickly as I can. I don't care that the rough way I push open the door makes my presence obvious, interrupting all of the staring my dad and Elena are doing with each other. I just tell myself that the faster I walk and the further away I run, the more I'll be able to erase the image of my dad's hand lingering on Elena's skin from my memory.
I have enough to worry about as it is, but this . . . this is the worst. I mean, Dad loved Mom. So much. There's no way he'd just move on an forget about her. He can't be ready for that yet. Not when her loss is still so fresh. Not after the pain of losing her nearly shattered us both. He can't be ready to push all of that to the side and start over with someone else. Right?
Maybe the truth is that I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to see a new woman standing in our kitchen in the morning, sipping from Mom's favorite coffee mug. I'm not ready for my dad to hold another woman close and whisper his love for her, wrapping his arms around her the way he used to do with my mother. I'm not ready. Maybe I'll never be ready. And just the thought of my father moving on before I'm able to accept that is killing me.
I keep moving until I've walked right past my classroom. I walk by my locker without a second thought. I don't stop running until I've slipped out of one of the exits at the end of a hallway, rushing out to the parking lot and hurling myself into my car.
And then the tears take over.
I haven't done anything like this in a long time. The last time I ditched school because I couldn't hold myself together was when I still lived in Texas and Mom's death was still months fresh. That time, a memory of my mom had hit me so vividly I could have sworn it was really happening. I couldn't handle the overwhelming pain that consumed me when I realized Mom was gone and never coming back, so I locked myself in a bathroom stall and cried until I thought I would never be able to shed a tear again. But this time I'm not crying over the loss of my mother; instead, I'm crying over the loss of what once was. Because now that I've seen my father with a woman in what could be taken as a romantic kind of way, I can't help longing for the relationship he used to have with my mother. Knowing that my dad is missing having someone to love only makes me miss the woman he used to love more than I already do, and I can't handle the overbearing sadness that begins to wrap around me.
My mom is never going to hug me again. She's never going to kiss the top of my head the way she used to, or hold my hand to comfort me when I need it most during moments like this. She's never going to meet my future husband. Mom will never hold my grand children as babies or watch them at her place for a weekend. She's not going to witness my wedding day. She'll never even see me graduate high school. She's just . . . gone. And right now, that realization is just too much for me.
How can Dad act as if none of this matters? Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions over what I saw, but my father's interaction with Elena seemed more than friendly. And maybe I'm overreacting, but I have a right to. It's not like I can control my emotions. Unfortunately, it seems to be the other way around.
I rest my shaking hands on the steering wheel before me and lean my head against the leather seat as I cry, streaks of mascara forming inky black waterfalls that stream down my cheeks. But ruining my make-up is the least of my problems right now, as I've got much more to worry about.
As I sob, my phone dings from where it's kept in my back pocket. I inhale shaky deep breaths as I reach for it, wiping at my tears and wishing they would disappear. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, the screen flashes with a text.
Jack ♥: hey, Lana just texted me saying she saw u storm out of school. what's wrong?
I'm not really in the mood to talk to anyone. I want to tell Jack that everything is fine so that he won't worry about me, and then tear out of the school parking lot and drive until I end up far enough away to clear my head. I hardly ever skip school and I'd never make a habit out of it, but right now I can't think of a better idea. Besides, I don't want to run into Dad when switching classes, which would be inevitable if I stayed until the end of the day. I don't even want to see Elena, for that matter.
I unlock my phone and type a quick reply to Jack, hoping he'll just drop the subject.
all good. nothing to worry about.
Jack ♥: i thought we agreed not to lie to each other?
i'm not lying.
Jack ♥: so u normally storm out of school and ditch? cause i don't buy that.
i said i'm fine, Jack.
Jack ♥: u can't even lie over text.
Jack ♥: if ur gonna skip, i'm coming w/ u.
you could get caught & suspended from the team, Jack. not worth it.
Jack ♥: it is to me.
I don't know how he manages to make feel better no matter how miserable I'd previously been feeling, but it seems to be one of Jack Crawford's many talents to lift my spirits. He never ceases to unintentionally say exactly what I need to hear right when I need to hear it, and I almost hate him for that.
I spot Jack's lithe figure crossing the parking lot only seconds after his last message sends, walking toward my car as if he thinks I'm going to take off without him. And I probably should, considering all the trouble I could get him in by letting him tag along while I ditch school. Yet I kind of want his company, because there's no fun in being sad and alone.
"Hey," Jack says as he falls into the passenger seat next to me, closing the car door behind him quickly. "Did you check out, or are we actually skipping?"
"I didn't check out." Of course I didn't. That would mean talking to Elena, which is not an option right about now. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to cause a dramatic scene by storming out of the school if I'd played by the rules first.
I eye my rear-view mirror as I pull out of my parking space, hoping my dad won't notice I've skipped school at the same time I realize I don't care if he finds out. Let him notice my absence. He kind of deserves it, after all.
"So." Jack turns to face me, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Where are we going?"
"No clue," I admit, keeping my gaze trained on the road. And I don't have an idea where I'm going, not really. Aster Pines is such a small town, there aren't many places to run off to. The mall is basically the only place to go for fun, but that option is ruled out now. Someone could recognize me and Jack, which could lead to us getting caught ditching school. And if word gets back to my dad that we cut class, Jack could be removed from the football team and I could be grounded.
"I have an idea." The sound of Jack's voice breaks through my thoughts, startling me so badly I actually jump in my seat. My nerves are shaken and I'm more than rattled after my breakdown, my emotions bouncing all over the place like a tennis ball. Feeling Jack's gaze burning into me, I know he can tell how jumpy I am. "Stop at my house."
His request confuses me, and I temporarily forget I'm driving. I turn to glance at Jack with curious eyes, wondering if he really just told me to go to his house when he knows that we're supposed to be at school. Our homes are maybe the worst places we could go, because that's where people would look first if we're found out.
Sensing my discomfort, Jack stares me dead in the eye and asks, "Do you trust me, Scott?"
I return my eyes to the road, though Jack's gaze lingers on me. As if to answer his question, I turn left at the next stop sign, taking the road that will inevitably lead us to Jack's place. I only do this because I do trust Jack. Possibly more than anyone else in my life. And he knows better than anyone how hard it is for me to put trust in others.
I park my car in the center of Jack's massive driveway, studying his house closely. I've been here once before, though I was so out of my mind drunk I hardly remember a thing about the experience. The building is as large as I vaguely remember it to be, and I recall comparing the place to a castle when I was wasted. The house is made of patterned bricks, complete with an enormous front porch and dozens of windows scattered along the face of the building. The two-door garage is closed, the driveway empty besides my own car. I know Jack's parents own a farm, and I can spot the faint outline of a barn in the distance behind the house. Aster Pines lies in the outskirts of Georgia, so practically everyone around here lives on farmland.
"You don't have to worry about running into my parents," Jack assures me, studying his own house as if trying to see the place through my eyes. "My dad doesn't get home from work until five, and my mom takes yoga classes in the afternoons."
We're both out of my car by now, standing across from each other on the pavement of the driveway. Jack eyes me wordlessly for a moment, and I swear he's trying to read me, like he's trying to figure out why I skipped class in the first place with nothing but a glance. When it seems he can't get the answer out of me by staring, Jack clears his throat and shoots me a grin that almost instantly takes away my bad mood.
"Toss me your keys," Jack requests, light green eyes dancing with amusement as he awaits my answer.
I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Come on, Scott," Jack grumbles, though he looks more intrigued than annoyed. "Have a little faith in me, all right?"
I roll my eyes, though I do end up sending my keys his way. Jack catches them in one swift motion, showing off the fact that he's a football player. He opens the driver's side door of my car once my keys are in his grasp, dropping them into the seat without another word.
I'm curious as to what he's up to, though Jack doesn't give his intentions away. He merely shuts the driver's door and strolls my way casually, gesturing for me to follow him up the steps of his front porch and leading me to the door. I remain a pace behind him, waiting with my arms crossed over my chest as Jack inserts his house key into the door. As soon as he's worked the lock, Jack rushes inside to disable what I assume to be a security alarm. I shudder as I realize that, if the alarm had gone off, we would have been so close to getting caught.
Jack's eyes hold a teasing gleam as he turns back to me, a faint smirk playing across his lips. "Still think it's a castle?" he taunts, biting the corner of his lip as if trying to contain laughter.
"Don't tease me when you know I was drunk," I bite back, though my mood does lighten just the slightest bit.
"I wanted to grab this." Jack holds up a key chain for me to see, a single silver key attached and dangling before my eyes.
"What do you have planned?" I wonder aloud as I eye Jack skeptically, still unsure if I should go through with his plan or suggest we go back to school right about now.
"You'll see" is Jack's only response, along with a mysterious smile. He's being so cryptic it's almost infuriating, but at the same time I kind of like the game he's playing. We don't stay in the house long, which is fine by me. It's a bright and beautiful day outside, the air warm and crisp, fresh in my lungs. I like Jack's house because it's so far out in the country, it makes everything feel so much more real. There are no city lights or sounds of traffic; it's just nature as it was meant to be.
I follow behind Jack a few hundred feet to the barn, where he stops by a faded blue pickup truck. It's an older model, which leads me to believe the vehicle has been in his family for a while. Jack walks around the front of the truck to open the passenger-side door for me, the gesture making me smile. I have no clue what he's getting at, but I find there's an element of excitement to not knowing what's going on. It's almost refreshing, sitting along for the ride without anything to consume my thoughts.
Jack climbs into the driver's side, turning the key into the ignition. The action is met with a low rumbling sound as the engine roars to life, the seat vibrating beneath me slightly. Jack pulls the old Ford out forward a little roughly, though he has yards of open space that make up for it.
"You look so confused," Jack teases with a faint chuckle at my expense.
I swat his shoulder lightly as I bite back, "Maybe because I am?"
Jack glances over his shoulder to offer me his signature knee-weakening smile that makes my knees go, well . . . weak. "There's this spot not too far from here I like to go just to think," Jack informs me, filling in the blanks as to what we're doing. "It's down this old dirt road that can get really muddy, so I thought I'd drive this instead of risking getting your car all dirty."
His thoughtfulness brings a smile to my lips, as does the realization that the only reason Jack's going to all this trouble is to make me feel better. I know I owe him an explanation as to my recent actions, and I'll get to that. For now, however, I'm content to look out the rolled-down window next to me and let the cool afternoon breeze blow through my hair, forgetting everything but this moment.
By the time Jack brings the truck to a stop, I'm breath taken. The scenery around me is so beautiful, I can't tear my gaze away. I spot a river a few hundred feet down from the road, slightly hidden behind a handful of large Oak trees. There's a clearing past the trees, nice and shady from the branches of the old Oaks. Jack climbs out of the truck to let down the tailgate, climbing up and helping me do the same. We sit side-by-side for a moment, nothing but silence of nature and the sound of the river running pouring between us. I let my legs dangle toward the ground, kicking my feet back and forth slowly. I find that I enjoy this spot, as it's calming in a way I could only try to describe.
Next to me, Jack clears his throat, interrupting the stillness spreading between us. I can feel those prodding eyes of his pinning me, silently asking me what's wrong. When I don't offer an explanation, Jack turns to words.
"So, were you planning to tell me why you decided to ditch school? Or were you just going to leave me in the dark?" Though he smiles as he says the words, I can tell Jack knows something is up with me. And I suppose that's a good thing, because what would it mean if my own boyfriend couldn't tell when I'm upset? But the fact that he understands I'm feeling distraught doesn't make it any easier to actually tell him what's going on.
Or maybe that isn't true. The death of my mother beat me up for years after it happened, and I hadn't been able to make peace with her loss until the night I drunkenly opened up to Jack. Talking to him helped me in ways I still can't explain, and, although it's still hard to think about, I'm able to remember my mother and not just recall the bitter sadness that's tarnished my last few memories with her. Now I can think back on the good times I shared with my mom, too, and I'll forever be grateful to Jack Crawford for helping me to do so.
"I think my dad is moving on." I don't look at Jack as I speak, as that'd be too much to bear. It already takes a lot for me to just say the words aloud; to even fathom that my father might be ready to love a woman who isn't my mother. I know I'm being selfish and petty by acting out like this, yet that doesn't change the fact I can't control how I feel about this situation. And selfish and petty is exactly how I'm feeling.
I inhale a shaky breath, forcing myself to look into Jack's calming green eyes. His expression is thoughtful, and I know he has his listening face on. Whatever I choose to say next, Jack will consider with careful deliberation, which does make me feel slightly better. At least I know that someone is really hearing me when I speak, not just allowing my despairs to go in one ear and out the other, coughing up fake sympathies when the time comes.
"Maybe I'm overreacting, but I . . ." I trail off, squeezing my eyes closed and shaking my head as the image of my father's hand on Elena's cheek fills my mind, forcing itself to be seen. My heart shatters at the sight, as if it's a fragile piece of glass that has just been ruthlessly dropped.
"I caught my dad in the office with Elena, the receptionist," I admit in a whisper as I stare down at my hands. I quickly fill Jack in on my father's past with Elena, knowing this is important to the story line. Then I torture myself by reliving the moment I witnessed my father share with Elena, describing every last God-forbidden detail. I recount the way my father's hand lingered on Elena's cheek and the look that passed between them as they stared at each other, almost as if seeing one another for the first time.
When I finish speaking, I feel sick. Tears have sprung to my eyes, and I have no idea how to make them disappear. It hurts so badly to think that my father would even think about another woman when Mom's death is still so fresh in our memories. And that he'd move on with Elena, a woman I'd grown to trust and hold dear to my heart. She was literally the first person I met after moving to Aster Pines, and she had made me feel so . . . welcome. She was the first person since Mom's passing to not regard me with pity; the first person to speak to me like the young woman I am and not some shattered, damaged infant.
Jack is silent, taking a moment to digest my words. He still has an attentive expression to his features, which is how I know he's choosing his own words carefully. When he finally does open his mouth to speak, I find I'm looking forward to the words. No matter what he says next, it's going to be something I need to hear.
"After Haleigh passed"—Jack pauses to clear his throat, a conflicted gleam passing through his light irises—"my parents and I were kind of . . . stuck. After the funeral, when reality that she wasn't coming back sank in, we were left with all of Haleigh's stuff. You know, everything that had once belonged to her. Her clothes and her special things. There was still a room dedicated to her in the hallway. For months, that door stayed closed. It was like we all knew we should at least look at her things and go through them, you know, so we could figure out what we wanted to keep or donate. But we just . . . couldn't. It was too painful, seeing her empty room. Because the second any of us walked in there and started putting stuff in boxes, we would have to really accept that Haleigh was . . . gone."
Jack swallows hard, a small vein coming to attention in his neck. He draws a shaky breath, bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. "It took a while, but we all realized that we couldn't just keep her door shut and let the things that were special to Hails sit and collect dust. One night, my parents and I gathered as a family—what's left of our family—and . . . we opened the door. Stayed up all night going through her things. It was painful as hell, to actually part with some of her stuff. But keeping her room perfectly in order, like Haleigh was just going to come home one day . . . it was too much. It was like we had a shrine. It took time, but we finally knew we were ready to part with some of Haleigh's old things. We were ready to face that pain."
Jack's gaze flickers upward to mine, his emotions clearly reflecting in his watery eyes. He purses his lips tightly, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, resting a hand on my knee comfortingly. "Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that there's never a perfect time to move on from something so traumatic, Morgan. Yes, you and your dad lived through a tragedy most people won't understand until they're forced to face it themselves. But everyone is different, Morgan. So, I guess I'm trying to say that it might hurt to see your dad moving on—if that's the case here—but that's his decision to make. Only he can decide when he's ready to start seeing other people. Whether that time is now, years from now, or never. It's his choice, and he's only going to go through with it when he's ready."
Deep down, I know Jack is right. The only person who can determine when my father is ready to heal the wound Mom left behind in his heart is himself. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me any less to know he's ready to move on, and I think Jack understands this. Still, he said exactly what I needed to hear, and I do feel somewhat better after listening to his story.
"You're right," I manage to choke out, biting down on my bottom lip as I look up at him. "It just hurts, you know?"
"I know, babe," Jack says almost inaudibly. His gaze softens as his eyes meet mine, features relaxing as he whispers, "I think I know better than anyone."
"Thank you." I don't know why I feel I have to whisper the words. It's hard to be as vulnerable with someone as I just was with Jack, and it's even harder to acknowledge I just bared my soul to him again. Knowing that Jack knows all of my secrets and pains is the equivalent of what it must feel like to stand naked before someone.
"No problem, Scott." Jack's easy grin lightens the mood between us tremendously, even managing to make me smile a little, too. "Any time."
I know Jack means that, too. No matter what happens, I can always go to him when I need someone to listen most and find solace in. The feeling of security that comes with the thought makes me feel completely at ease, as if nothing can ever really hurt me as long as Jack is by my side.
"Come here, Scott," Jack murmurs as he wraps my small frame in his strong arms. He kisses the top of my head before pulling back slightly, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss.
"So." I release a sigh and smile faintly as I glance up at Jack. "What do we do now?"
"Oh." Jack hops off of the tailgate, turning around once he's on his feet and extending his hand to mine. There's a mischievous gleam glowing in his green eyes as they lock on my hazel irises, troublesome smirk tugging at his lips. "I have an idea."
• • •
An hour later, Jack parks the truck back in front of the barn. After climbing out of the old Ford, the both of us turn to face each other and burst into laughter. Jack's hair is a shade darker than usual, as it's wet, sticking to his forehead and standing up in odd places. His T-shirt clings to his skin, the white material now completely see through, showing off the detail of his chest. His jeans are soaked and cling to his legs, which I know has to be uncomfortable, as mine do the same. I can only imagine what my appearance must look like, my dirty blond hair a wet and tangled mess, water droplets painting my skin. The Letterman's jacket Jack offered me to make up for the chill to the air is slightly wet, too, so large compared to my small frame the sleeves manage to completely cover my hands.
It had been Jack's idea to jump in the river, though I'd been completely against it. Jack—always one to get his way—had merely slung me over a broad shoulder, disregarding my cries of put me down this instant or I swear to God Jack Crawford I will kill you. Needless to say, I'd ended up in the river anyway. It had been fun, too, until the sky turned gray with an oncoming storm, picking up the wind and making it much too chilly to remain in the water.
"See," Jack starts with a smirk as we begin the walk back to his house, his gleaming green eyes meeting mind. "Told you it would be fun."
"Yeah, but now we're all wet," I point out. Gesturing to the sky now threatening a downpour, I add, "And it's freezing."
"Come on, Scott. You had fun and you know it."
I bite down on the corner of my lip, trying to prevent a forthcoming grin from spreading too wide. I roll my eyes and shove Jack's shoulder as I chide, "I hate when you're right, Crawford."
Once we reach the side of Jack's house, he turns to me and studies my profile in silence for a long moment. Jack frowns slightly as he eyes something to the side of my face, troubling me.
"You've got a leaf . . ." he trails off, hand brushing against my cheek as Jack reaches up and pulls the object from my hair. I hesitate, the simple pass of his touch on my skin causing me to shiver, and the realization that a leaf had been in my hair making me blush.
I glance down at what used to be my favorite white Converses, the shoes now muddy and an unflattering shade of brown. Jack reaches for the water hose at our feet, turning the hose on as he says, "We should probably rinse our shoes off. You know, before we go inside."
I comply with a smirk as I say, "Wouldn't want to get the castle dirty."
"Scott," Jack mumbles in a warning tone, rolling his eyes at my joke. "I almost forgot how funny you can be."
I scoff, mock-offended. "I'm hilarious, Crawford."
"I'll take your word for it, Scott." The look Jack offers me as his eyes roam my body is tantalizing in the best way possible. If I wasn't already enough on-edge, I have to watch as Jack lifts his shirt over his head, disposing of it as he drops the material to the ground. I've only seen him shirtless once before, the morning I'd had a hangover after spending the night at his house. I remind myself not to stare, hoping Jack doesn't notice how pink my cheeks have flushed.
Jack takes a few steps toward me, slowly unzipping the jacket he'd lent to me, holding my gaze the entire time. The interaction has my heart steadily pounding against my rib cage, as if begging to be set free. Soon enough, he's tugging the jacket off of my arms, touch brushing against my skin and leaving behind a trail of flames.
He bends down to grab the water hose, spraying my shoes off for me. Unsurprisingly, he soon points the hose directly at me, spraying my already soaked clothes and laughing at my shocked reaction.
"Jack!" I cry as I raise my hands in front of my face to block the flow of water. "Stop!"
"Sorry," Jack mumbles after significantly spraying me, sounding anything but apologetic. "You kind of set yourself up for that, though."
"How did I set myself up for that?" I question, raising an eyebrow. "By trusting you? Remind me not to do that again."
A confused gleam passes through Jack's gaze for a moment, as if wondering if I'm actually mad. The light soon disappears, however, quickly replacing itself with contempt. Jack has turned the water hose off by now, closing the space between us as a killer smirk dances across his lips.
"You don't mean that," Jack says as if speaking fact, a satisfactory expression taking over his features. I bite my lip as I gaze up at him, as now that he's standing so close to me I don't feel nearly as bold as I had before.
Jack leans in closer to me, making up for the height difference between us. He takes my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks with his warm and gentle touch. Our lips are a whisper against each other for a moment before colliding, Jack's bare chest pressed flush against my front as I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening our kiss.
I'm thinking that there's nothing that could possibly ruin this moment for me when a clap of thunder erupts from the sky, starling me so badly I flinch. Jack pulls back at the abrupt sound, both of us shocked. And then we're cracking up at our reactions to something as silly as thunder, reaching for each other all over again.
That is, until we hear the voice bark, "Jack? Is that you?"
Jack curses under his breath as I pull away from him entirely. It's one thing to be caught kissing, but it's a completely different matter to be caught making out in soaked clothes when a storm is hanging in the air, at a time we're supposed to be at school.
Jack's posture is stiff as he regards the woman approaching us, and there is no doubt in my mind that she is Jack's mother. Thinking about it, I realize that I've never actually met either of Jack's parents before. I've never seen this woman at any of Jack's football games, and Jack has yet to bring me over to his place to meet his parents. I know from what he's told me that he isn't very close with his mother or father, but I suppose I hadn't realized how strange it was that I haven't met them yet until now.
Mrs. Crawford is a pretty woman, her hair the same golden shade as her son's, pulled up into a bun. She's dressed in exercise clothes, and I recall Jack mentioning she'd been at a yoga class. Piercing green eyes shift between Jack and I curiously, as if trying to piece together what I was doing with her son and why on earth the two of us are on her property right now.
"Hey, Mom." Jack tries to sound casual, though I notice the way his voice falters. "What—what are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you the same thing." Jack's mother's eyes narrow as she speaks, frowning in disapproval at her son. "Shouldn't you be at school? Why are your clothes all wet? And who is this with you?" Jack's mother fires questions faster than Jack can even try and answer. Her gaze bores into me, picking apart every inch of my disastrous appearance. I can tell that she's trying to place me in her memory, though we've never been formally introduced, so I assume she can't come up with a name to match my face.
"Uh." Jack hesitates, turning to glance at me. An apologetic gleam shines in his gaze, as if he's trying to convey that he's sorry for this turn of events without having to speak. "Mom, this is my girlfriend, Morgan Scott. Morgan, this is my mom."
A shadow crosses Mrs. Crawford's features as she eyes me, confusion gleaming brightly in those piercing eyes of hers. "Girlfriend? Jack, I thought you were dating Lacey Hanson?"
That one hurts. It's as if Mrs. Crawford's words are a punch to the gut, the blow disorienting me. I shoot a pain-filled glance at Jack, unable to believe that he seriously hasn't told his parents that he's done with Lacey. I mean, it's been almost an entire month now.
Jack's eyes widen in shock, quickly opening his mouth to clear up the confusion we're all so clearly feeling. "Mom, I told you Lacey and I broke up," he says through gritted teeth, hand resting comfortingly on the small of my back.
"Oh." Mrs. Crawford sniffs. "I suppose I just assumed you two would be back together by now. Isn't that your thing when it comes to her?"
It takes all the strength within me not to allow my jaw hit the ground and to contain the gasp of shock threatening to escape my lips. It's hard to believe a mother would say something like that to her son, especially with his new girlfriend present.
I force my feelings to the side and paint what I hope to be a realistic-enough smile on my lips, stepping forward to show that Mrs. Crawford isn't getting to me. I won't give her the satisfaction of thinking she can scare me off. "Hi. I'm Morgan. I don't think we've ever been introduced before, but it's nice to meet you."
In response to my introduction, Jack's mother merely sniffs again. Her silence may be the best way she could hurt me right now, and we both know that.
"Why don't you come inside?" Mrs. Crawford changes the subject, turning her back on me and Jack. "Then you can change into some dry clothes and explain to me why you thought it would be a good idea to skip school, Jack."
I immediately take notice of the way Mrs. Crawford excludes me, feeling a rush of white hot tears flow to my eyes. I don't know what I could have possibly done to make his mother instantly dislike me so much, though I do know that I'm as hurt as Jack is embarrassed. I try to put myself in Mrs. Crawford's shoes, realizing that I probably wouldn't be thrilled to come home and find my son kissing some girl in the yard when he's supposed to be at school. Though, I also don't think I'd have been so rude, either. I mean, Jack's eighteen; an adult. There's only so much she has the right to control when it comes to his life nowadays.
I think back to the story Jack had told me about how his parents met and fell in love. It's hard to imagine the woman I just met as the same woman who had looked out of a diner window and saw her future staring back at her in the form of a man. I have to remind myself that Jack's mother has lost a daughter. Losing someone you love can mess a person up in ways that are beyond imaginable; I should know. As I think about all of this, I try to understand where this woman is coming from.
Jack turns to face me once his mother has disappeared around the corner of the house. As hard as I try to keep a neutral expression, I know he can sense how I'm feeling. Jack rests a protective and comforting hand on my shoulder, remorseful eyes meeting mine.
"Morgan"—Jack shakes his head as he speaks, looking beyond apologetic—"I am so sorry. I had no clue she was going to come home so early, and if I did I wouldn't have . . ." he trails off, pursing his lips tightly. "I don't know why she acted that way, but I swear I have told my parents about you. I'm so sorry if she offended you . . . I really don't know what's up with her."
I shake my head weakly, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "It's okay," I assure Jack, even though we both know I'm lying. "I'm sure she just . . ." I trail off, having no idea how to finish that sentence.
Jack takes a step forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him and holding me close. In his arms is the one place I feel truly safe, and I'm grateful to have Jack to lean on. He kisses my cheek and forehead, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, "She'll come around. She's probably just shocked to have run into us. I promise you." And then Jack is pulling away and taking my hand in his, offering me one last warm smile as he leads me toward the front of his house.
After the day I've had, all I want is to go home and cry. But then I remember that my father will be there waiting for me, and I realize that my day is about to get a lot worse.