Sleep didn’t come easy after my kiss with Jackson. I replayed it over and over and over, touching my swollen lips until eventually I crashed around four a.m. When my alarm went off at six, I jumped out of bed with a perky smile, like I’d slept for a day.
The smile stayed all day long. Every time I got weary, I’d think of Jackson’s kiss and get hit with a fresh burst of energy.
By six o’clock, I was eager to get away from the camp. Not because I hadn’t had a great day with the kids and my staff, but because I wanted so badly to see Jackson again. So instead of going home, like I normally did on Tuesday evenings, I steered my Ford Escape toward the bar.
The parking lot was full, but I squeezed into a tight space in the last row. I did a quick check in my visor mirror, pulling my hair into a topknot and smearing on some lip gloss. Then I popped a piece of cinnamon gum. I doubted Jackson would kiss me while working, but he might and I wanted to be prepared.
I walked into the bar with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. I strolled right up to the bar, sliding into a rickety old stool next to Wayne and Ronny, two locals who came down to the bar most nights. Normally, I picked a table in the middle of the room or a booth in the corner, somewhere I wasn’t conspicuous.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I was going to be front and center.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey, Willa.” Wayne patted my shoulder. “How are you today?”
“I’m great. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
I loved that Wayne always had a smile. I’d known him my entire life and couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in a good mood. Even during his divorce. He was in his late fifties, like my dad, and worked at the school doing maintenance. He’d always walk the halls whistling a cheery tune.
“Um, is Jackson here tonight?” I asked, my eyes scanning the bar.
Wayne didn’t answer because at that moment, Jackson came out of the back carrying a pizza pan. He delivered it to one of the tables, then came back around the bar.
The minute he made eye contact, my heart jumped into my throat. “Hey,” I breathed as the smile on my face got impossibly wider.
Jackson grinned. “Hey, Willow. What can I get for you?”
My smile faltered. Willow? I stared at him, hoping he’d start laughing at his not-so-funny joke, but he just stood there, waiting to take my drink order.
“It’s Willa. With an a,” I snapped. “Will-a.”
He winced. “Sorry. I suck at names. Did you want a drink?”
I suck at names. That’s how he was going to play this? He was going to pretend that last night hadn’t happened? Was kissing me really so bad that he’d resort to childish games?
“I’ll get your drink, Willa,” Wayne offered. “How about a Bud Light?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Coming up.” Jackson whipped a pint glass from beneath the bar and took it to the tap.
“It’s still weird to me that you’re old enough to drink.” Wayne chuckled. “I remember you coming into the school every summer when you were just a little thing, helping your daddy get his classroom all ready for the school year.”
I faked a smile for Wayne as Jackson set down my beer.
He turned and grabbed a bottle of aspirin from behind the cash register, opening the cap and popping a couple of pills into his mouth.
“Not feeling good?” Ronny asked.
Jackson shook his head. “I haven’t had a bitch of a hangover like this in years. The damn thing has lasted all day. Remind me never to do tequila shots, then smoke a joint with the tourists again. I’m a fucking dumbass.”
Ronny and Wayne both laughed.
I did not.
Tequila and weed. That was the taste I couldn’t pinpoint last night. That was the reason for the haze in his eyes. He’d been drunk and high during my first kiss.
“Did you stay out late?” Ronny asked Jackson.
He shrugged. “Not really. I closed up around midnight after the tourists left the bar. Walked home and passed out.”
I stared at his profile, waiting for his eyes to at least flicker my way. He was forgetting a stop on his stroll home. Was that intentional? Did he not want Wayne and Ronny to know he’d even talked to me? Or had he forgotten me completely in his inebriated state?
“You just went home and fell asleep?” I asked.
He glanced over. “Pretty much. Had some crazy dreams though.”
I narrowed my gaze, assessing his expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t omitting pieces of his story.
He really had forgotten.
He’d forgotten the best night of my life. The best first kiss in the history of first kisses.
He’d forgotten me.
The pain nearly knocked me off my stool. Jackson continued to chat with Wayne and Ronny while I stared unblinking at my beer glass. The bubbles collected on the rim, then burst.
Like my heart.
Enough, Willa. Enough.
My friends had told me for years to move on, to forget my schoolgirl crush on Jackson and go after a man who actually knew I existed.
But I’d nurtured and coddled the fantasy for nine years.
I’d finally had enough. This was the kick in the rear I’d needed to let him go. In a way, I was glad this had all happened.
Yep, glad. Super glad.
G-L-A-D, glad.
He was just a silly dream.
And it was time to chase a new one.
As I walked past the school, I glanced across the playground to the dark row of houses on the opposite side. My eyes immediately landed on the staircase behind one of the garages, and a wave of déjà vu hit hard.
Why were those stairs so familiar? I’d never been to that house before.
I shrugged the feeling away. They were probably familiar just because I’d walked down this street three hundred times on my way to work at the bar. I lived two blocks up in the same neighborhood—though my place wasn’t nearly as nice as the homes on this road.
I kept walking but couldn’t help a second glance at the staircase.
It had been over two weeks since the night I’d had five too many tequila shots and smoked a joint with a couple of tourists who’d stopped at the bar. And in those two weeks, I couldn’t get this dream out of my head.
There was a girl. A beautiful girl.
And that staircase.
Fucking weed. There was a reason I rarely smoked.
Something about the mixture of marijuana and tequila did strange things to my mind. I didn’t get the typical munchies or surfer-dude vibes. Things got hazy, nothing stayed in focus, and my memory took a hit.
Never again, Jackson. Never. Again.
I blamed this on Logan fucking Kendrick. The only reason I’d gotten drunk and smoked that joint was because he’d shown up in Lark Cove.
Why couldn’t he have just stayed a stranger? Logan would be in Charlie’s life, our lives, for good. Not that I didn’t want Charlie to have a father—I wanted whatever was best for her—but change sucked and Logan was bringing a truckload of it to my simple life.
So the night he’d shown up in town, I hadn’t handled it well. I’d poured a shot to take the edge off, followed by two more. When those tourists had come in, the bottle hadn’t lasted long. And when one of the guys had passed me a joint, I hadn’t thought twice before taking a hit.
The rest was a blur.
I remembered fuzzy pieces from that night. I remembered locking up the bar and taking a piss outside the back door by the Dumpster. I remembered walking past the playground. And I remembered the dream I had that night.
It was about a girl floating through the air with long, wavy hair the color of spun gold. Then there were flashes of those stairs.
After one last look over my shoulder at the staircase, I turned the corner of the block and headed down First Street toward the highway.
Toward my sanctuary, the Lark Cove Bar.