“Hope you don’t mind me popping in,” he asks, all smiles as he looks at Becca.
“Not at all.” Becca gives him one of the extra plates on the table. “We have plenty.”
Her gaze flits to me before turning back to her brother, but I don’t miss the confusion that lingers.
My chest burns as I lift my fist, rubbing it, trying to relieve the ache.
Maybe jalapenos weren’t the best choice.
Chapter Six
Becca
Dumpingcleanclothesfromthe laundry basket onto the dining room table, I start the task of folding. My house is spotless, and this is the last thing I have left to distract myself.
The physical activity hasn’t done anything to silence the words playing on repeat since Jacob’s partial admission last night. I have a million questions, and am relieved and annoyed that John picked that moment to sit down.
The truth is, I honestly don’t know how to process any of it, and I’m not even sure it matters. Jacob and I were a thing decades ago, and both of our lives are very different now. But seeing him again is bringing up feelings I buried.
Not to mention, questions I had long since given up on getting answers to are now back.
“Does any of it really matter?” I mumble to myself. “It was a lifetime ago, I was a different person.”
My hand grabs a piece of clothing, and as I start to fold it, the hood gets in the way. When I look down at Caleb’s oldHurricanes sweatshirt, I pause before drawing it to my face and inhaling. There was a time that a warm spice and a woodsy scent would’ve been all over this, but that time is long past.
Now it smells like laundry detergent, fabric softener, and Steven.
A burning sensation spreads across my chest. Even after a year, there are still moments when I long to hear his voice or see his smile. Feel his arms wrapped around me again.
What would Caleb have said if I told him the truth about Jacob? I mean, he knew Jacob and John and were best friends growing up, so he was aware I knew him, but I kept what he meant to me to myself, and I’m not even sure why.
My history with Jacob was easier not to talk about, and by the time I had met Caleb, I had left the life I thought I would be living with him behind.
Besides, no one called him Jacob; it was either J.T. or Jake. It was like they were talking about completely different people from the person that I had once loved.
Pulling the sweatshirt from my face, I swallow past the tightness gripping my throat and focus on how it feels to fold the heavy cloth.
I loved Caleb, adored him. He was everything I could’ve wanted and more, yet I can’t deny that I kept Jacob from him for a reason.
He still had a piece of me. The back of my eyes burn admitting the truth to myself, the guilt that lays behind it fills me.
A buzzing pulls my attention to the counter, and I see Miles' handsome face lighting up the screen. Clearing my throat and blowing out a ginormous breath, I answer the phone.
“Hey, honey, what’s up?” Holding the phone between my cheek and shoulder, my voice a little shaky, I go back to folding the sweatshirt this time without a trip down memory lane.
“Hey, Mom. You okay?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Just folding laundry,” I tell the half-truth. It’s not the first time that I’ve gotten emotional when folding laundry, but this time it’s more than just missing my husband.
“You sure?” Miles' voice holds an edge of uncertainty. This middle son of mine is way too intuitive for his own good.
Forcing myself to even out my voice, I respond. “I’m sure. What’s up?”
“Just calling to see if Steven started working with that new coach?” I hear voices in the background. Miles' voice gets muffled, and I know he covered the microphone. He’s just like his dad. The corner of my mouth lifts. Everyone at school knows him.
“Did you call your brother and ask?” I grab a t-shirt from the pile.
“I haven’t had time, plus you know how much I prefer talking to you.”
