Escaping Perfect (15 page)

Finally I decided to roll over to face him. And when I
did, he stirred awake, squinting one eye open at me.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

He smiled and kissed me with a closed mouth. “Best morning ever.”

I smiled too. “Agreed.”

Jasper rolled over onto his back, and I curled into the crook of his arm, resting my cheek on his bare chest. I couldn't believe that I'd spent the night at a guy's apartment. I couldn't believe all the things we'd done before we'd gone to sleep. I blushed now, just thinking about it, and my body gave an involuntary shiver.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching up a hand to toy with my curls.

“I'm great,” I replied. I loved the way his chest rumbled against my ear when he talked.

“Good. Because I've been thinking. You helped make my dream come true, so as far as I can tell, now it's your turn.”

I lifted my head. “My turn?”

“Yeah. You helped me, so now I'm gonna help you.” Jasper lifted himself up onto his side, crooking his arm under him and resting his cheek on his hand. “So, what, exactly, do you want to do with your life?” he asked, nudging me in a teasing way with his knee.

I chewed on my bottom lip and mimicked his pose. “To . . . stay here with you all day and have you bring me breakfast in bed.”

“That sounds perfect.” He leaned in and kissed my nose, which just about killed me. “But that's what you want to do with your
day
. I'm talking about your life. Like, when you were a little kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? Or, I don't know, where do you see yourself in five years?”

“What is this, a college interview?” I asked.

He groaned. “Come on! Just humor me already.”

He was so excited, it made me sad to admit the truth. “I don't . . . I don't really know.”

I'd never allowed myself to dream of the future, of a career, of what I might actually want to do with my life, because I'd always known that my mother had every second of that life planned out for me. The only true dream I'd ever had was to get away from her. To escape the proverbial castle walls. To live life on my own terms. Jasper didn't know it, but I'd already achieved my dream, and he was a big part of it.

“You don't know?” His brow creased, like I'd just told him we were breaking up.

Of course. Jasper was a born dreamer. In his mind, being a person without something to strive for was like being a
farmer without a field to hoe or a writer without a pen. Or a laptop.

A writer. I had always been good at that particular skill. It was the reason I'd had any money to speak of when I'd shown up in Sweetbriar. Writing term papers was my specialty. But it wasn't a dream.

“I guess I've never been much of a dreamer,” I said, hoping he didn't think less of me for it.

Jasper reached out and ran his palm down my shoulder and along my arm. His touch sent my skin humming.

“All right,” he said finally, then lifted my palm and kissed it. “I guess I'll just have to make that whole breakfast-in-bed thing come true.”

He flung the covers off and got out of bed, hiking some jeans on over his boxer briefs.

“You don't have to do that.”

“Oh, but you haven't eaten until you've tasted Jasper Case's scrambled-egg special,” he replied with a wink. “I'll be right back.”

In seconds I could hear him banging around in the kitchen, and I settled cozily into the pillows, sighing in complete and total happiness. The boy could sing, taught little kids for a living, and knew how to make eggs? No wonder everyone in town was in love with him.

Not wanting to think about that particular truth, I put my glasses on, picked up the TV remote from his bedside table, and turned on the small television atop his wide dresser. The second the screen lit up, I bolted up straight in bed, gulping for air. All sound was reduced to a loud buzzing in my ears. Behind a desk sat a female newscaster in a gray blazer, and emblazoned across the bottom of the screen in big red letters was the headline:

SEARCH IS ON FOR CECILIA MONTGOMERY, NOW PRESUMED A RUNAWAY.

Oh, holy disaster.

Shaking, I turned up the volume.

“. . . though the senator has yet to release a recent photo. Sources close to the family say they prefer to handle the search on their own and not involve the public or the media. We now go to former FBI missing-persons expert Teresa Davidson for her opinion on this decision. Teresa?”

Ththough the senator has yete screen split, and there sat a stern-looking woman with dark skin and a steel-gray helmet of hair. The greenscreens of the studio were badly reflected in her thick glasses, all but obliterating her pupils.

“Thank you for having me, Margot,” Teresa said.

“Thank you for being here,” the anchor replied. “We now know that the extra set of prints in the car belonged to a known
associate of the car's driver, and that he has been cleared of all wrongdoing, which has led the authorities to shift their focus to Cecilia Montgomery herself, is that correct?”

“Yes. Without any other suspicious evidence, it seems clear that Miss Montgomery has fled on her own,” the expert said.

I was going to be sick. I jumped out of bed and cracked the nearest window, but the air outside was hotter and thicker than the air in the bedroom, and it only brought on a new wave of nausea. I crawled back into bed, breathing deeply.

“All things considered, what do you think of this decision by the Montgomery family to continue to keep such a tight lid on their daughter's image?”

“It's idiotic, quite frankly,” Teresa replied.

I groaned, holding both hands over my mouth. This wasn't happening. It was
not
happening.

“If this girl has run away and is out on some selfish joyride, then you can be sure someone out there has seen her,” Teresa continued. “With the technology we have at our disposal today and the reach of social media, publishing her image increases the chances of finding their daughter exponentially. Senator Montgomery, wherever you are right now, I hope you're listening. If you want to find your daughter, you're going to have to show her
current
face.”

I closed my eyes, but I could still see the expert's scowl as she stared down the camera. It was one thing if my mother thought someone had taken me. There would be leads to track down, suspects to interrogate, theories to hash out. The longer the investigation went on, the better the chance that they would one day give up and that I would be truly and utterly forever free.

But now that she believed I'd simply taken off, this whole thing would become personal to her. I had tarnished her image. I had made the world question what kind of mother she was, question her decision-making, question her character. For that she would hunt me down like a bloodhound. In one moment everything had changed. I knew my mother, and there would be no escaping her now.

I became dimly aware of Jasper's voice somewhere on the edges of my consciousness. Something moved in the corner of my vision, and I flinched. My finger automatically hit the off button on the remote.

“Lia? Are you in there? I only said your name ten times.”

“I didn't hear you,” I said.

Probably because my name isn't Lia. It's Cecilia. Which you're clearly going to know in the very near future, and then you're going to hate me for lying to you, and then you'll break up with me and run back to Shelby and my life will suck. Again.

“Okay . . . I just wanted to know if you like strawberries.”

“Oh, no,” I said absently. “I'm allergic.”

He gave me an odd sort of look.

“What?” I asked, and it came out sharply.

“Nothing. I just had a weird déjà vu moment. When I was a kid, I gave this girl strawberries and almost killed her.”

My stomach clenched. Yep. That was me. My throat had closed over until Gigi had stuck me with my EpiPen and saved my life. The allergy was less severe now—I'd just break out in hives and need an antihistamine—but it wasn't pleasant.

“Huh. Weird,” I said, just to have something to say.

But Jasper was still looking at me. My insides began to squirm. Maybe we wouldn't have to wait until the media exposed me. Maybe he was realizing that I was, in fact, the girl he'd almost killed and was about to break up with me now.

Too good to be true. I should have known it was all too good to be true.

“Well, anyway. Grapes okay?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He finally turned and walked away, though he did so very slowly, I noticed. As soon as he was out of sight, I lay flat on the bed and pulled the blue-and-white-striped sheets over me, letting them flutter down over my nose and forehead. I
took deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves, trying to let the lingering scent of Jasper's warm body, mixed with the heady fabric softener, soothe me.

But they didn't. Because my mother was coming after me. And she wasn't going to stop until I was locked up in my tower again and she'd thrown away the key.

Chapter Fifteen

The sun blazed hot in the sky
as I made my way across the park toward home. Jasper had offered to drive me, but I'd turned him down, telling him I wanted the fresh air and exercise. Which was true. I knew that if I didn't start moving soon, I was going to go insane.

But now that I was out in the open air, I was seriously regretting my decision. Every car held a team of reporters or an upstart private eye. Every slight movement was someone swooping down on me, ready to throw me into a waiting van. Was that man on that park bench watching me from behind those dark sunglasses?

As I passed by, he let out a snore, and I thought . . . maybe not.

Near the edge of the grass, the zydeco band played an upbeat tune while a group of men and women worked
through a series of yoga poses, led by a lithe, dark-haired instructor. Was it just a few days ago that Fiona had been telling me how much she loathed this stuff? And now she basically hated me. As I hurried by, head down, the twanging of the banjo strings started to get under my skin. It didn't even make any sense—yoga was supposed to be relaxing, and this music was decidedly not. Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe this whole town was insane.

Or maybe I was just trying to find reasons not to like it because I knew that in the near future I was going to have to say good-bye to it.

I had almost made it to the sidewalk when I noticed a pair of joggers coming toward me. Duncan and Fiona.

“Oh, hey, guys!” I said brightly.

Maybe I could start to turn this thing around. Maybe Duncan would be able to broker some kind of peace between the two of us. “I was just heading back to—”

I stopped talking when Fiona and Duncan exchanged a glance, then parted to jog around me and kept right on going. I felt like one of them had hauled off and punched me in the gut. So now it wasn't just Fiona, but also Duncan giving me the silent treatment? Work was going to be a laugh riot this afternoon.

I turned in a brief, helpless circle, then sat down on the
nearest bench and hung my head in my hands. Maybe I should just give myself up. Someone was going to figure me out before long anyway. It wasn't as if everyone in Sweetbriar had their heads buried in the sand. At some point one of my mother's advisors would finally get through to her, she'd release the family picture from last Christmas, and the jig would be up. Maybe I should just go home and admit defeat. It wasn't like I was such a success story out here anyway. I had a low-paying job where the staff hated me and no friends to speak of.

But then there was Jasper. My body shivered, even as the sun beat down on my neck. I couldn't leave Jasper. That was not an option.

Suddenly a shadow fell across my face, cooling my skin. I squinted up to find Shelby standing over me in yoga pants and a blue crop top. The rest of the class was breaking up and moving off, and I realized that she had been, in fact, their instructor. I hadn't recognized her from behind.

“You teach yoga and zydeco?” I asked.

“It's Yoga
'n'
Zydeco,” she said with a sneer. “And yes, I teach the
advanced
class, which meets every other Thursday. So. Getting the freeze-out from the Taylors, huh?” She tilted her head so that her heavy topknot shifted slightly
from one side of her skull to the other. “That sucks. Those two are good people to know until they turn on you. Then they're like the New Jersey Mafia. Believe me. I should know.”

I shoved myself to my feet, forcing Shelby back a few steps. “I don't remember asking your opinion.”

“Wow. I thought you'd be in a better mood. After all, you officially snagged Jasper.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Had she just admitted defeat?

“For now,” she added.

Of course not. Suddenly I remembered what Duncan had said about Shelby and Jasper, and how Ryan had described their relationship, and how he'd been talking to her right outside my door just a few nights ago. She was never going to give up. No matter what. Did I really want to live with that?

I shoved past her and headed for the sidewalk. A nice cold shower was seriously calling my name. Then I could take some time to myself and figure out my next move. Maybe I could ask Hal to pay me a day early and hit the road. But to where? If they could find me here, they could find me anywhere. And then, of course, there was Jasper.

“Where're you off to so fast?” Shelby asked.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” I demanded.

Her dark eyes narrowed. “You don't have to be such a—”

She stopped midsentence when I ducked behind the nearest tree, flattening my back against its trunk. I'd just spotted the black Town Car sliding ever so slowly past the park and had moved on instinct. I counted all the way to one hundred Mississippis before coming out of hiding. The car was nowhere to be seen, but Shelby still stood there, her gym bag on one shoulder and her rolled yoga mat hanging from a strap on the other.

“Is Jasper aware that you're a total freak?” she asked. “Because I think I'm going to call him right now.”

Too overwhelmed to put together a comeback, I pushed past her and ran for Main Street. I emerged on the corner just across from the Book Nook, and the message on the side of the building nearly floored me.

IN A WORLD WHERE YOU CAN BE ANYTHING, BE YOURSELF.

*  *  *

“I can't believe we're actually doing this,” I said, leaning in to take a sip through a red-striped straw.

“I know. We're just so cute, aren't we?” Jasper replied, sipping through his own. “I think I should write a song about us.”

“You kids gonna order anything else?” Roy Hadley, my landlord and the man who'd tried to help me into his shop
on my first morning in town, stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a white towel.

Jasper was the first to lean back from our shared chocolate milkshake. It was so yum and so forbidden, I took an extra few draws on the straw while he wasn't looking. I'd spent half the morning locked in my room, trying to meditate but failing miserably to clear my mind. All I'd wanted to do was curl up under the covers for the rest of the day and will the world away, but that wasn't realistic. Not only because I didn't have superpowers, but because Jasper was leaving for Nashville this afternoon. He had to be there for the next few days to interview backup musicians and listen to demos at his new record label's offices. If anything was going to coax me out of my room and make me try to act normal, it was Jasper. Especially when I wasn't going to be seeing him for a while.

“I think we're good,” Jasper said, sliding some cash across the counter. His phone beeped, and he checked the text, then quickly pocketed his phone.

“Who was that?” I asked, with a stomach-twisting feeling that I knew the answer.

“Shelby. Wishing me good luck.” He forced a smile.

At least he wasn't lying. Or was he too oblivious to know that there was going to be tension about this?

“Jasper, about Shelby . . .”

His whole face tensed. “What about Shelby?”

I reached for his hand and held it lightly. “If we're going to do this . . . like,
really
do this . . . Be together,” I clarified, when his expression didn't change. “I think you need to break up with Shelby.”

I was going for a light tone, but Jasper didn't smile. “We did break up. Ages ago.”

“Maybe, but I don't think she sees it that way,” I said, my heart pounding. “She talks about the two of you like you're still together. And all the texts and the phone calls . . . And you call her ‘babe.'”

Jasper finally let out a breath and his posture slumped. “I know. I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then let it drop. “I've just never been able to say no to the girl, whether we were together or not.”

I swallowed hard. What did that mean? If she called right now and asked him to come running, would he? And what would I do if he did?

“But for you, I will. I'll talk to her.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I promise.”

My relief could have inflated the entire store around us. “Thank you.”

He checked his phone again. “It's almost time to go.”

There was a hitch in my stomach that made me bend
slightly at the waist, but luckily, Jasper didn't notice. Roy rang us up and brought back the change, then moved down the counter toward the TV, where some football game was being replayed at a low volume. Roy was obsessed with Tennessee football, and always had some classic game cued up. Thank God. I wasn't sure I could handle another random appearance by my mother.

Jasper drew my hand onto his leg as my feet swung beneath me on the stool.

“Are you gonna be okay here without me?” he asked.

“This isn't really the nineteen fifties,” I reminded him with a forced laugh, gesturing at the fluted milkshake glass. “I'm going to be fine.”

I said it convincingly, even though I was lying through my teeth. Every time I thought about him not being here, I felt a tug on my heart so excruciating I wasn't sure I could survive it. I felt like if he left, this tiny little life I'd woven for myself was going to unravel. Like the moment he drove off, his space at the curb would be taken by that stupid Town Car, but this time, it would be full of FBI agents ready to squire me home.

Don't go,
I wanted to say.
Don't leave me here all alone.

But I couldn't. Because then I'd be the girl who was holding him back. The girl who was jeopardizing his dream.
I couldn't say it because then I'd be a pathetic loser, something I'd never thought I'd be. And above all, I couldn't say those words to him because if I did, then I might have to explain why.

“Make any headway with Fiona this morning?” Jasper asked.

“No. She still won't talk to me,” I said, biting my lip. “I don't know how to fix it.”

“I'm sorry if I made things worse between you when I stole you away last night,” Jasper said, still holding my one hand with both of his. “I always knew she had a bit of a crush on me, but if I'd known it was going to get between you, I never would've—”

“Don't worry about it. Honestly,” I said. “If anyone did something wrong, it was me. I just have to figure out how to make it up to her. I have to find a way to show her that her friendship matters just as much as you do.”

“Really?” he asked, a joking lilt to his voice. “I don't matter just a scoch more?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Well, maybe just a scoch.”

I leaned in to kiss him, and for that brief moment all my worries flew out the window.

“You should try to make up with her, though,” Jasper said when we parted. “The Taylors are good people.”

“Interesting how you say that when they all seem to dislike you so very much,” I joked.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You have a point, but if they have any issues with me, that's my fault. You and Fi could be really good friends. See what you can do to work it out.”

I sighed. Suddenly the weight of my many problems seemed to press down on me. Noticing my slumping body language, Jasper reached over to sling his arm around my shoulder, pulling me as close to his side as I could get without falling off my stool. I rested my head on his arm and smiled.

“I'll try,” I said.

He turned his head to kiss my nose, which seemed to be his new favorite thing to do. “That's my girl. Come on. Let's head out.”

He laced his fingers with mine, and we walked out into the sunshine, the bells over the door tinkling behind us. Half a second after we hit the sidewalk, the black Town Car slid into a spot right in front of us. Instantly my vision grayed, and my grip on Jasper's hand tightened even as my palm grew slick.

They'd found me. How the hell had they found me so fast?

The front door opened. A shiny black shoe hit the pavement, then another. I was opening my mouth, trying to find the
words to explain to Jasper why I was about to be ripped away from him, when the man lifted his sunglasses from his eyes.

“Jasper Case?”

“That's me,” Jasper said cheerily.

What? Why would the FBI know Jasper's name?

But then the driver went around to pop the trunk, and Jasper pulled a rolling suitcase away from the outer wall of Hadley's, and everything zipped into focus. This wasn't the FBI. It wasn't even the same Town Car I'd seen tooling around Sweetbriar. This was Jasper's ride to Nashville.

Jasper handed the luggage off to the driver, then faced me. “I figured I'd have them pick me up here so we could have a few more minutes together.”

“That's so . . . sweet,” I said, still recovering.

Jasper slipped his arms around me and drew me close. “I'll call Britta's phone when I get there and make her put you on the line,” he said quietly.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied.

We kissed, and I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, as if I was sending him off to war or something. Idiotic. I knew it was. But at the same time, he was the only person here who cared about me. Possibly the only person in the world who cared about me. And after feeling so alone for so long, it was nice to feel needed, to feel seen, to feel
like someone was looking forward to simply being with me. I didn't want to let that go.

Finally the driver cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir, but we should get going.”

We parted, and Jasper gave me one last kiss. “Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

I waited until the car had pulled out and driven to the edge of the park before I turned away. My eyes fell on the gleaming sign for the Little Tree Diner, and I was suddenly infused with a fiery need to talk to Fiona. To make her talk to me. Maybe it was because I couldn't face my sadness or the idea of being alone, but I didn't care. What mattered was, I was feeling brave.