Pep Talks (Pepper Jones #4) (8 page)

Jace

Pepper’s been in the passenger seat of my Jeep thousands of times, but I’ll always have trouble keeping my eyes on the road when she’s sitting beside me. Her presence is warm and bright and my eyes just can’t seem to look anywhere but in her direction when they know she’s nearby. And shit, Pepper is beautiful. The kind of beauty that never gets old and never wears off. She has no idea, and that only makes her so much more appealing.

When I got back to my apartment after practice, Pepper was on my mind. Nothing unusual there. I’m always thinking about the next time I’ll see her, and wondering what she’s doing, how her day is going. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I get this crazy feeling like Pepper might not have any idea how much she matters to me. It seems so obvious from my perspective that I often don’t vocalize it. But tonight I really wanted to make sure she gets how it is for me.

When I saw her come out of the building, those long-ass legs trying to distract me from her gorgeous smile as they always do, I fell in love all over again. How many times can you fall in love with the same person? It happens to me every fucking time I see her. I go deeper and deeper and I wonder if there’s a bottom or if it will always be like this.

I probably sounded like a lovesick asshole when I started telling her how special she is, but when it comes to Pepper Jones, I always have been a total idiot. And seriously, I tried to tone it down, but once I started saying shit, and she looked so blown away, it all poured out. The girl is my light, my center. Like gravity, she keeps me grounded.

When we get to the restaurant, I run around to the passenger door, eager to have her touching me and at my side. I’m not oblivious to the dudes at the bar checking her out, but she remains clueless as I give them my most intimidating glare. She just leans into me, her happiness pure and transparent. Pepper doesn’t play games with me; she’s always made her emotions and thoughts perfectly clear. I love that about her.

She’s telling me about her teammates throwing a party in her dorm room, and her innocence is endearing. She wants everyone to be happy and safe, and the constant drinking and partying in college gets to her. She worries. It’s cute. Her capacity to love amazes me. She already feels it for her new teammates, and I’m sure if one of them called her with a crisis right now, she’d do all she could to fix it.

But it’s my phone that rings. The number is unknown, and I’d normally hit the “decline call” button, since it’s most likely a reporter, but there’s a chance it’s Annie, so I accept the call and bring it to my ear.

“Jace? Hi baby, it’s your mom.”

I don’t respond. Her voice is different and I know immediately what that means.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I got your messages, it’s just been crazy. Listen, I need your help.”

Those words hit me like a hammer straight through my ribcage. Fuck, it’s painful. She doesn’t care two shits about me. She just needs money. I wait for it. I can’t speak as I do. Instead, I throw up the shield I’ve been working on taking down for years. The instinct to protect myself is just too strong, and I couldn’t hold back my armor if I tried. Fucking hammering on your chest is hard to ignore.

“See, an old girlfriend was driving out west and wanted some company. But we were going over the speed limit when we got to California, and she got pulled over. And then she had some drugs in her car, and now we’re at the police station.”

She pauses, probably waiting for me to ask what I can do to help. Annie doesn’t know me at all if she thinks I’m coming to her rescue now. “You’re in California?” I ask, just to clarify and to let her know I’m still on the line, though I’m about to hang up. She’s going to ask me for money to bail her out, and I want to confirm that she is capable of stooping that low before I shut her out of my life forever.

“Yeah, somewhere in Orange County. Look, the drugs weren’t mine. I didn’t even know she had them in there.”

There’s another long pause. She’s got about twenty more seconds before I’m done.

“I can’t make my bail, do you think I could borrow some money?”

“No. I can’t do that.”

And that’s when I hit the red “end” button. It feels so final, it’s almost a relief. The all-too-familiar sense of rejection and self-pity threatens to pierce through me, but there’s no way I’m letting it. Instead, a coldness washes over me, and I feel nothing at all.

Pepper’s warmth beside me is suddenly suffocating, and I can’t bring myself to look at her; the brightness and love always emanating from her is blinding and if my eyes adjust, I’m afraid of what will happen. I’d probably destroy this entire restaurant, and those assholes at the bar who blatantly checked out my girlfriend when we walked in. I don’t trust myself with her right now.

If I touch her, talk to her, let myself love on her like I want to, I’ll let out the rest of the beast. There’s a blackness in me full of anger and resentment and no one wants to be a part of it. It’s not something Pepper should ever be exposed to.

So I drop her off at her dorm and seek a distraction. Anything will do.

The phone call comes in the middle of dinner. Jace wouldn’t normally answer a call when he’s out with me like this, but I suspect it’s her as soon as he glances at the unknown number. He has a frantic look when he answers, and the color in his face drains so quickly as the voice on the other end speaks that I’m afraid he might pass out.

“You’re in California?” he asks, his hand gripping the cell tighter with the question.

She speaks for a long time after that, and I hate that I don’t know what she’s saying. I want to get closer and put my ear next to his, but the wall is there again. He threw it up as soon as the phone rang, and it frightens me that he can do it so easily. One minute we were eating and laughing, and the next he’s retreated to a place where he won’t let me join him. It was only minutes earlier that he told me I’m it for him, yet in this moment, with his gaze far off, I don’t think I’m on his radar at all. His normally tan skin has turned ashen, and I have the sudden urge to smack him in order to bring him back to life. To me.

“No,” I hear him say, “I can’t do that.”

And then he clicks off. He stares at the phone for a long time before speaking.

“An old friend was driving across the country. Annie met up with her and decided to join her for the rest of the drive to California.” Jace recites Annie’s story in a detached manner. “She called me from the police station. She was arrested for possession.”

He won’t make eye contact with me when he says all this, and though we’re sitting so close our legs touch, he won’t let me see or feel any of his emotions. If I had to guess, his heart is breaking in two.

The first sign that he has some reaction to the phone call is when he barks out an ironic, disbelieving laugh. “She asked me to bail her out. She said it wasn’t hers. But she was still high on the phone. I could tell.”

I reach for him then, trying to embrace him, and though he doesn’t push me away, he doesn’t let me draw him near either. “I’m sorry, Jace,” I whisper. I hate that there’s pity in my voice, and I’m sure he hates it more. My heart is breaking too, but for him and what Annie has done.

“She left,” he states blandly. “And she’s never coming back.”

I know what he means. Even if she were to return, she will never again be a part of his life. A part of me is thankful that he has made this decision, that he won’t keep hoping and forgiving her, because I fear it would be an endless cycle of heartbreak. Another part of me is afraid for him. Afraid of how this will affect him.

I know what it’s like to live without a mom. But right now, I’d rather be in my shoes than Jace’s, because I think that having a parent die is easier than having a parent reject you, or choose something else – drugs, at that – over you.

Jace drives me back to the dorm after dinner. He says he needs to be alone right now, and I don’t question it. Once again, it hurts that he doesn’t seek comfort from me, but I swallow that down and tuck it away. He’s told me he needs me in his life, and maybe someday he’ll be able to fully embrace those words. For now, his declaration will have to be sufficient.

It’s crazy, though, how quickly I find myself questioning the words he spoke, how meaningless they become in the face of his actions. I’m checking my email the next morning, killing a few minutes before heading over to the gym with my roommates. Facebook keeps alerting me about various messages, tags and events, so I reluctantly log on to my account. I’ve never been a huge fan of Facebook. My friends always got caught up in what was happening on people’s Facebook pages, but the internet is not the real world, and I swear some people think it is. The World Wide Web and the real world intermix so much that people get the two realities confused. Gran and Lulu live solidly in the moment (though some might question their grasp on reality) and I want to be like them.

However, I can’t ignore the internet entirely, and I check in on my Facebook account to ensure no one’s posted a naked photo of me or something. Just some running pics and a few friend requests from teammates. When the screen switches to my newsfeed, a photo of Jace and Frankie laughing flashes before me. It’s a great shot, and whoever took it caught them unaware. I click on the photo, and then click on Jace’s page, curious to see if there are any other good photos of him on there.

I find about a dozen photos that were posted early this morning – like, at 3:00 – from Instagram. The hashtags tell me that it was the same party my teammates went to, the one hosted by the baseball team. And judging by the shots of him in various locations and taken by several different people, he didn’t just stop by for a quick minute. He told me he wanted to be alone when he left me last night, but did he really just want to get away from me?

My stomach twists with the betrayal. He lied to me. This is now the second time he’s gone out to party without me. I’m not his keeper, and he doesn’t have to bring me with him wherever he goes. But this is different. He’s going out without me because he doesn’t want me with him. If he wants to forget Annie and the pain she’s causing him, I can’t fault him for it, but if doing that means ditching me, I can’t deny how much that hurts. The small breakfast I ate is churning in my stomach, and I quickly shut my laptop before I feel even sicker.

Working out with my teammates, pushing my muscles on the weight machines until I can barely lift my arms, it helps a little. But when they all decide to go out again that night, I opt to go see Gran at our apartment. Of course, I try to get in touch with Jace, but he’s evasive.

Gran’s on a date with Wallace the cowboy when I get to the apartment, but when she returns home, she takes one look at me and starts making hot chocolate. When she hands me a mug and takes the seat beside me on the living room couch, I tell her everything. She knows Jace almost as well as I do, and from her expression as I relay the phone call from Monday, she already knows Annie left, relapsed, and got arrested. Gran and Jim are friends, and for all I know, Annie called both of them seeking bail after Jace hung up on her.

“After the phone call, he ended our date, dropped me off at my dorm, and told me he needed to be alone. But he went straight to a huge party on campus, hosted by a guy he doesn’t even like,” I add, though it’s mostly irrelevant to the fact that he lied to me. He wanted to escape being with me. It makes my whole body hurt, an emotional pain that runs deeper than the kind from a hard running workout.

I don’t know what I need from Gran right now. I don’t want her to get so mama bear on me that she can’t give me reliable advice. I guess I need her to do something to take away the pain, to tell me he didn’t mean it, that he’ll come back to me as soon as he’s processed this, and that it won’t take long.

“Baby girl, Jace has come a long way in talking ‘bout and facing how he feels, but ever since he was little, his first instinct is to push it down and bury it. Anything that hurts, even sometimes the good stuff, if it’s too good, he turns the other way. It doesn’t take a fancy doc to say it’s all ‘cause of his mom leavin’. You and me know that good and well.”

“But Gran, she left
again
. After coming back and getting to know him. After being sober and making a new life. This time, it’s like his dream came true, that she came back and wanted a real relationship with him, and she’s smashed it. If he buried how he felt about things before, now what?”

Gran looks truly sad, and I don’t know if it’s for me, Jace, or both of us. She takes my hands in hers. “I don’t know, baby girl. He’s come a long way with you by his side. He has. But what Annie did, it’s gonna set him back. Real far back. All you can do now is wait. Be patient with him. And if it hurts too much on you, you are gonna need to keep your own heart intact, you hear? He needs a friend right now more than anything, but he ain’t gonna admit it.” Gran only gets going saying “ain’t” when she’s fired up or emotional, so I know this news is troubling her.

When one week, and then two go by, and Jace remains closed off, I start to wonder how long I’ll need to wait. And should I be doing anything in the meantime? What can I possibly do? I can’t force him to heal from this, and pushing him to talk to me will no doubt backfire. I try to remember that he’s grieving a loss – it’s like his mom died, only worse.   

I’ve seen him only a few times since he received the phone call, and never for very long. We haven’t really spent any intentional time together, and there have been no kisses, hand-holding, or hugs, much less sleepovers. But today is my first cross country race as a college student, and my longing for Jace is replaced by excitement and anxiety.

It’s not exactly a
race
, just the informal scrimmage against other Colorado colleges, some of which aren’t even in our league or division. Still, I’m wearing my UC Brockton uniform and racing on the home course for the first time. The uniform is essentially a bathing suit. The bottoms are called “butt huggers” because they are basically bikini bottoms with slightly more fabric. The tops are skin tight, though fortunately mine does not show my midriff like some do. It’s comforting that all of the other girls on the starting line wear the same type of uniform.

When the gun goes off, I move forward with my teammates, trying to stay behind Kiki and Sienna. Coach Harding has given me no advice or instruction. My coach in high school spoke with me before every race about a strategy, expectations and goals. Today, I have none. It should be freeing – I’ve struggled under pressure before – but instead it’s suffocating.

Sienna and Kiki were consistently two of the top five runners on the team last year, and I’ve managed to stay with them or close behind them on most of our workouts so far. I figure I can treat this like a workout and try to stick with them.

But my body knows this isn’t a workout and it’s not cooperating. My shoulders and arms are stiff, and my legs refuse to go with the flow. They remain tight and uncertain, and I can’t tell if the pace is actually super quick or if it just feels that way because I haven’t raced in a while.

Sienna and Kiki surge ahead, and I can’t seem to stay behind them. A swarm of runners moves in front of me as the course narrows, and before I know it, I’ve lost sight of my team captains. I spot our team colors in front of me and recognize Trish and Gina. With renewed determination, I resolve to stick with these two.

The route winds through a golf course, and my body begins to relax. It’s a beautiful September day, and I’m surprised by how many students have come out to cheer. Gran and Lulu are among the fans lining the course, and they are decked out in the school colors. They’ve also managed to acquire pompoms and are taking great pleasure in pretending to be part of a cheerleading squad when I pass.

The race is one kilometer longer than a high school cross race, which isn’t much, but I find I’m happy to have the extra distance when we hit the halfway point. I’ve been sticking behind a group of girls that includes Gina and Trish, but now that my body is relaxing, I want to pick up the pace.

The freedom of having no expectations but my own hits me, and I realize I don’t have to follow anyone through this race. I can run what I feel. And right now, the nerves have transformed to energy and I can’t hold back the urgency for speed. Before I know it, I’ve passed the group, and I’m flying up a short hill effortlessly. Okay, not totally without effort. Breathing is becoming more difficult, but it feels good to push myself. It always has.

There’s a gap between the girls I’m pulling away from and another group ahead, where Sienna and Kiki lead the race with three other runners. I hear heavy breathing beside me and glance over to find that Gina has picked up her pace to match mine.

Together, we continue to close in on the lead group. When we catch them, I’m relieved to see there’s only one kilometer to go now, because I’m beginning to feel the consequences of picking up my pace, and I’m not sure how long I can maintain it before I hit a wall.

The finish comes into view, and I can feel the group get antsy, wondering who will make a move first. Some girls have a ton of speed and can afford to wait until the last minute to try a sprint for the win. Others, like me, are better off breaking away earlier, because, while I’ve got a decent kick, my body isn’t made for serious sprinting, and I can’t always hold my own in a dash to the finish with girls at my level.

I’m tempted to make a go for it, but something holds me back. This isn’t even a real meet, and I don’t want to overdo it. It seems presumptuous, cocky, obnoxious even, that I would even consider trying to win my first college cross race. And that thought causes me to stay in the middle of the pack. A girl from a different team makes a move, and I don’t try to go with her. Sienna does, but she’s not able to hold on. The girl from Mountain West wins, and I think my official finish is seventh, though we are all very close together.

I’m pleased with the result, but a little disappointed in myself. I don’t like that I didn’t push for the win at the end. It’s like I was afraid I didn’t deserve it. No, that’s not right. I don’t know why I held back, but I won’t let it happen again.