My feet skidded to a stop. How had I known she was going to say that?
“It’s that nice brown house by the school,” Hazel told me. “The one with the big cottonwood tree in the front yard and the strawberry patch off to one side. Do you know which one I’m talking about?”
“Yeah.” It was the house with the staircase on the backside of the garage. “Thanks. Sorry to wake you up.”
Hazel laughed, her hoarse chuckle loud in my ear. “I love you, Jackson Page. I’m glad you’ve finally clued in.”
Clued in? Before I could ask what she meant, she hung up.
I nearly called her back for an explanation, but I doubted she’d answer now that she knew I wasn’t in trouble. So I stuffed my phone back into my jeans and kept walking. It didn’t take me long to reach the playground, but before I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass, I paused.
Should I wait? Maybe it would be better to return tomorrow at a decent hour. Yeah, after another night of that damn dream.
I abandoned the cement for the lawn. There was no way I was waiting.
My long strides took me past the soccer goalposts and jungle gym. I slowed as I came toward the swing sets, studying them more closely as that déjà vu feeling crept back in. But I sloughed it off and kept walking, right up to the staircase.
When I reached the base, I stopped short of the first step. Okay, this was beyond weird. Had I been here before? This spot felt so familiar.
It had to be a part of my dream. This staircase was just something I’d fabricated, because there was no way I’d climbed these steps before. I took the first step, then the second and by the third, the weird feeling disappeared. I’d never been up here before, of that I was certain.
I would have remembered all these flowerpots.
Along the wall of the garage, planters filled with flowers overflowed onto every step. It was hard to tell the exact color of the petals in the dark, but the greenery had crept so far onto each stair that my size-twelve boots could barely fit without squashing leaves.
I was forced to climb the staircase right against the railing as I made my way to the landing at the top. The exterior light was on, illuminating the door, but inside it was completely dark.
Because it’s one in the morning, dumbass.
I looked down the steps, debating whether or not I should knock. What was I even going to say? Hey, Willa. Remember me? Turns out, I’ve been dreaming about you. Crazy, huh?
She’d call the cops before I had the chance to finish.
Still, my doubts didn’t stop me from rapping my knuckles twice on the tan door. I regretted it instantly.
I was going to scare Willa to death.
I turned, hoping she hadn’t heard me knock. If I was lucky, I could make my escape and she’d never know I was here. But right as my foot landed on the first step down, a light flipped on inside.
Shit. I manned up and came back to the landing, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting. As I waited for the door to open, I said a quick prayer that I’d gotten the right house and I wasn’t about to be greeted by an angry man with a shotgun.
A long, narrow window next to the door was covered with a sheer curtain. A dainty hand yanked it to the side and Willa’s face appeared behind the glass. Her eyes flared as she looked me up and down.
“Hey.” I slipped a hand from my pocket and gave her a corny wave.
Her face disappeared from the window and she freed the deadbolt. My heart was thumping in triple time as she turned the door’s knob.
“Jackson?” She opened the door an inch.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, it’s late.”
The door opened wider and she stepped under the frame. Her hair was piled in a huge, blond nest on top of her head. She was wearing yellow pajama pants with white stars on the cotton and a thin, white V-neck tee.
“What are you doing here?” Her arms crossed underneath her breasts, thrusting them higher. In the cool night air, her nipples hardened.
My cock jerked behind my zipper and I used every bit of my willpower to keep it from growing hard.
“I, uh . . . this is going to sound crazy.” My motto for the night. “I’ve been having these dreams. About . . . you. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to, um . . .” I should have thought this through. What exactly did I want from Willa?
A date, I guess.
“Um, what?” she asked, waiting for an answer.
“Would you want to maybe go out sometime?”
Her mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and I stared at her bottom lip. It was so full and pink. Her lips were the perfect shade for her complexion. They matched the sexy blush of her cheeks.
“You want to go out with me?”
I nodded, the corners of my mouth turning up as I waited for the inevitable yes.
But my grin fell when she took one big step backward.
And slammed the door in my face.
“Did that just happen?” I asked the door.
Now he decides to show up?
Now he asks me on a date?
Now?
Unbelievable.
“Why?” I whispered to myself.
Why was he here now? Had he remembered our night under the stars? Was he drunk again?
I reached for the door, wanting answers, but before I touched the knob, I snatched my fingers away.
Don’t open the door, Willa. Don’t do it.
I’d spent the last two weeks kicking myself in the rear for my ridiculous crush on Jackson Page. I’d berated myself constantly for being so incredibly na?ve. And I’d done everything in my power to block him out.
But the problem was, I’d spent too many years dreaming about him. Nine, to be exact. Thinking about Jackson, looking for him in town, had become ingrained into my routine.
Today, I’d finally made progress. I’d signed up for an online dating profile. I’d driven by the bar and hadn’t let myself look for his truck. I’d even boxed up all of my old diaries, the ones filled with Jackson’s name, and taken them to my parents’ basement for storage.
I was moving on from Jackson Page.
Or so I’d thought, until he showed up at my door.
Why was he here? Why now? The curiosity was killing me. I reached for the knob again, jerking my hand back again just before my fingertips could brush the metal.
Gah! Why?
I had to know. Because maybe if I got some answers, I could stop being mad at Jackson for forgetting me. I could stop being mad at myself for letting this crush of mine go on for . . . far too long. This time I let my hand touch the knob.
I would get my answers, then it would be enough.
A rush of unfamiliar confidence surged as I twisted the knob open and yanked back the door. In my haste, I nearly hit myself in the nose.
Jackson was on the first step down, but when he heard me, he came back up to the landing. A hopeful, infuriatingly beautiful grin spread over his face.
“Why are you here?” I stepped right into his space, holding my chin high and narrowing my gaze.
He blinked and the grin disappeared. “Uh . . . to ask you out.”
“That’s it? There’s nothing else you want to maybe discuss?” I strung the words out, giving him plenty of opportunity to fess up if he did remember our kiss.
“Uh, yeah.” He gave me a sideways look. “That’s it.”
“You’re sure?” I studied his face, searching for a flicker of recognition, but came away with nothing.
“Pretty sure.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is everything okay?”
“Super,” I muttered, leaning in closer. His eyes were clear, and there was no alcohol on his breath.
He really was here just to ask me out.
And it made me angry.
I was angry that he’d forgotten about the kiss.
I was angry at the part of me that wanted to say yes and do a victory dance.
I was angry that my feelings for him were so impossibly hard to let go.
“No.” My entire body was vibrating with nerves and adrenaline. “I, um . . . no.”
He leaned back, stunned. “No?”
“No. I don’t want to go out with you. Not now. After . . .” I waved my hands in a big circle. “After everything.”