Milesissittingnextto me in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Since we’ve gotten in the car, he hasn’t said a word about Jacob, but the repetitive action tells me he’s trying to figure out the right approach to this topic.
“Mom, tell me about you and ‘The Jet’.” I can feel the weight of Miles’ stare as he intently waits for an answer. A glance in his direction shows me that his brows are knitted together and his expression is the one he uses when he’s reading the defense on a drive.
“There isn’t anything to tell, not really.” Reaching out, I squeeze his forearm. It’s not the full truth, but it isn’t a lie. “Jacob was Uncle John’s best friend, and I had a crush on him.”
“Jacob?”
My lips curl up at the way he spits out Jacob’s name. Caleb would be proud. My insides sink at the fact that my husband doesn’t get to see the men his boys are growing into, and Miles reminds me the most of him.
“Jacob, Jake, J.T., ‘The Jet’, Thornton. They’re all the same person. I just always referred to him as Jacob…he hated it.” I feel my cheeks pull up as I remember the day I started calling him that; it was the same day he started calling me Becs.
“My name is Becca.” I spit out, feeling heat creep up my cheeks at his use of my first name, Rebecca, resisting the urge to smack that smug grin right off his face. Instead, I call him the one thing I know he hates just as much. “Jacob”
Jake’s eyes widen a bit, and a sense of supreme satisfaction settles in my chest at getting a rise out of him. He recovers quickly, a mischievous expression written on his face. My stomach dips, and I know I’ve made a mistake. Jake is better at playing these types of games than I am.
But if he’s going to insist on calling me Rebecca, then I’m going to call him Jacob. Two can play at this game.
“Is that how it is?” A slow grin was crawling up his face. He slowly walks over to me, stealing the air with every step he takes, and sending chills down my spine. When he steps next to me, I can feel my pulse spiking as excitement courses through me. He’s never been this close, and I’m not sure why I’m having this type of reaction from my brother’s annoying best friend. Whispering, his warm breath blows against my skin, and goosebumps pop. “You can call me Jacob, Rebecca—”
“Are you sure you want to call me that, Jaco-b?” I say popping the b like a p.
His dark eyes darken, and for the first time, I notice the espresso brown is so dark it’s almost black. “Oh, I’m sure…Becs.”
A gasp escapes me. I hate that one more than Rebecca, and he knows it. John calls me ‘Becs’ whenever he’s being a jerk and wants to get a rise out of me.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, an electric current moving through me that’s caused by his nearness and the dare that seems to be lingering in his gaze.
It was that moment my brother’s best friend officially became the boy I had a crush on.
“Did Dad know?” The corner of my lips drop, and my stomach flips at the tone in Miles’ voice.
Flipping the blinker, I turn into Moretti’s parking lot and pull into the first spot available.
“Know what, honey? That I knew him? Of course. You all knew that Uncle John was ‘The Jet’s’ best friend growing up.” I can’t stop the sarcasm that falls from my lips, saying Jacob’s nickname out loud.
“No,” Miles’ voice is soft, the tone he uses when he’s addressing something he’s not sure he wants to know but needs to. “That you were in love with him.”
My brows shoot up to my hairline at my son’s perception, and I reach out and cup his cheek. His eyes hold so many questions. Questions about my relationship with his father and Jacob that I need to quell now.
“By the time I met your father, Jacob and I hadn’t spoken in over five years.” His forehead relaxes, and I see relief filling his eyes at my words. The tightness in my chest loosens. “I fell madly in love with your father and his only flaw…” I lean in and kiss his cheek, then wipe the lipstick left behind with my thumb. “Was that he was obsessed with a hockey player named J.T. ‘The Jet’ Thornton, and he taught all of his sons to love him too.”
“I’m not sure I love him so much anymore,” Miles grumbles.
“Aww, sweet boy,” I chuckle, mussing up his hair. “You don’t have to, but it’s okay if it turns out you still do. Why don’t we go in and eat, and see how you feel on a full stomach?”
Miles’ look of determination tells me we aren’t done, not by a long shot, but he gets that I don’t have anything else to say on thematter at the moment. Not to mention, I’m ridiculously curious to see how Jacob handles the third degree that at least two of my boys intend to give him.
When we walk through Moretti’s door, the murmur of conversations bubbles up around us. Automatically, my eyes find the table in the back corner, and sure enough, there’s Steven, Wyatt, and Jacob. My lips pull up. Point for Jacob for following directions.
Wyatt’s back is toward us, but I can see Steven’s face, and his eyes are laced with humor, which sparks my curiosity about what they’re actually talking about. I look at Jacob to find him tugging at his collar and wiping his brow.
“Hey, Miles.” The hostess gives my son a megawatt smile, to which he responds with a wide smile of his own. Always a flirt. “Your brothers are in the back. Oh, hi, Mrs. Bennett.”
Pulling my eyes from the table, I look at the teenage girl and smile. “Hi Joanie. How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s good.” Her face takes on a shade of pink at her preoccupation with Miles, but her eyes never stray from him as he goes to join his brothers at the corner table.
“Tell her I say ‘hi’.” I tap her on the shoulder as I follow behind Miles.
