“YourJayson?”
He’s not my Jayson anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. But after the other day, I feel like I’m starting to get him back.
Munch. “Uh-huh.”
Daniel worries his chin in a thinking man’s pose. “Elizabeth, what’s going on? You haven’t heard from him in years. You were devastated when he stopped showing up for Elizabeth Ann’s birthday.”
Grabbing my glass of iced tea from the counter, I chug it down. “Devastated sounds too hyperbolic.”
“But in this case, one hundred percent accurate,” Drew chimes in.
They’re right, but I rush to defend Jayson because they don’t know why. “He was dealing with some stuff. It wasn’t his fault.”
Daniel’s brow arches even higher. “Would you like to share those reasons?”
I set my empty glass in the sink. “Please respect that I can’t. I won’t betray his confidence.”
“Fair enough. I’ll ask him myself.”
“Daniel, please don’t.”
Drew gives me that “dad” stare that makes me fidget like a teenager caught in a lie. “Interesting how two men from your past suddenly show up at the same time.”
I bite my thumbnail. “Yeah, I guess you could say so.”
“Huh.”
“What doeshuhmean?”
Daniel takes me in a side hug. “It means tonight should be interesting.”
I signal to myself. “Nope. No drama here. I am a drama-free zone. Tonight is about family and good food.”
Drew chuckles. “If you say so, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
JAYSON
The Past Is Never Far Behind
Standingat my open childhood bedroom window, my hands shoved deep in my pockets, I gaze across the way to the house next door. I can’t see Liz’s old bedroom through the thick summer foliage of the oak tree, but I know exactly where it is.
Sleeping in this room, being home, brings back too many memories. Memories of things that once were. Memories of him. Memories of her. Memories of that night.
A soft breeze filters in through the mesh screen, and I close my eyes, listening to Liz’s phantom voice drifting over as she sings along to some melody she strums on her guitar. I’ve never been able to escape her, no matter how far or fast I ran.
Most people know that their first love won’t be their only love, but for me, Liz was my first, my only, and my always.
Julien strolls into the bedroom and joins me at the window. “Ready to go?”
“I’m going to tell her.”
My brother’s heavy sigh speaks volumes. “Good, but please, for the love of God, not tonight in front of all our friends.”
I appreciate his use of the “royal we,” but they’re his friends, not mine. I burned a lot of bridges when I left.
I send him a mock glare. “I know that, dipshit. I’m not that tactless.”
