Page 62 of Something that Could Last

“Thank you.” I don’t let on that I already know which room is hers. That would be unwise on my part.

I gather Abby in my arms and lay her gently on her bed, pulling the blankets over top of her. I kiss her head one last time before turning and walking towards the door.

“Jacob, I...”

Her voice is low and scratchy with sleep, but I turn and wait for her to continue. Her face is shrouded in darkness, so I can’t see whether her eyes are open or closed. Sleep must have overtaken her again because she doesn’t say another word. I pull her door shut quietly and head towards the front door. I find her grandmother standing over the sink, washing what’s left of our dishes from dinner.

“Did you two have a good time this evening?” she asks.

“We did. The food was wonderful. Thank you for the cobbler.”

“You’re very welcome.” She gives me a plastic container and places her hands over mine. Peach cobbler to go. I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot, but when I look into her worried brown eyes, my smile falters. “You seem like a good man.” She hesitates, choosing her next words carefully. “Please don’t break her heart. She’s been hurt enough already.” Her pleading look causes a lump to form in my throat. I would never do anything to hurt Abby.

“I won’t,” I promise her. She studies my face for a moment before her expression relaxes as if she can sense the sincerity in my words. She pats my hands and leads me to the door.

IT’S BEEN NEARLYtwenty-four hours since I last saw Abby. I went to sleep last night thinking of her. I woke up this morning thinking of her. All my muscles were stiff, especially a certain one that didn’t get any attention last night, in spite of him practically screaming for it. He was sorely disappointed.

Not that I can’t spend time with Abby without being inside her. I like being with her no matter what we’re doing. But having her body wrapped tightly around mine is my new favorite pastime. Damn it. Now I’m going to have to take acoldshower because I can’t quit thinking about her.

As I step out of the spray and begin to dry off, my nuts feeling like they’re shriveled up like raisins from the cool water, my phone beeps with an incoming text. It’s my dad.

Would you please tell your mother what you plan

on wearing to the party? She’s driving me crazy

He punctuates his last sentence with a gun emoji pointing at a yellow face with x’s for eyes. The fact that he even uses emojis cracks me up. I’m glad he’s finally getting the hang of it now. He used to put really silly ones on his texts that made no sense at all, like a random animal on a text asking me how classes are going. I shoot a quick text back to him, promising to let her know today.

I wipe steam off the mirror and debate whether I should shave. It’s been about five days since I shaved last, and the stubble has grown in nicely. Abby seems to like it, so I think I’ll just keep it a while. Anything to make my girl happy.

I’m excited to see her tonight. It’s Saturday, the night we plan to go to The Barn to see her brother’s band play. She’s been dropping hints all day about her outfit choice, teasing me with images in my mind of her smooth, tan skin revealed by something short and sexy. That’s definitely a sight I’m looking forward to seeing.

It’s been a long day, and I’ve spent the majority of it with Luke, so seeing Abby will be a welcome change. Luke and I spent the day kayaking and hiking, only taking a break long enough to eat and for me to finalize some plans I’ve been trying to work out. I have a surprise for Abby and I can’t wait to show her what it is.

Once I’m dressed and ready, Luke and I head to Tiff’s to pick up the girls. When Abby steps through the front door, my jaw drops. My eyes slide over her entire body from head to toe. Big, soft curls frame her face, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Her lips are glossy and pink like a big, juicy slice of watermelon just waiting to be bitten into. Long, thick eyelashes blackened with mascara accentuate her bright green eyes. Her plaid shirt is tied in a knot at her narrow waist and frayed denim shorts rest on her hips, a small sliver of skin exposed in between. Grey cowgirl boots cover her feet, the pointed toe and low heel subtly sexy. There’s a lot of leg showing, and I like it. I’ve never really been into the country girl thing, but dear God, I’m into it now.

Tiff follows Abby out of the house in a short, flowy, cream-colored dress and denim jacket. Her brown boots match the belt cinching her waist. Although I only have eyes for Abby, I can appreciate how beautiful Tiffany is. She may be a lot of fun and likes to have a good time, but I can see her brokenness. Behind those sapphire eyes and flirty smile hides a lot of pain. I don’t know if Luke can see it, but it’s a web he’s going to get caught in.

Abby climbs into the passenger seat and I kiss her immediately, tangling my fingers in her hair. I hold her to me possessively and claim her mouth with more aggression than I mean to. I pull back and see her chest rise and fall rapidly, neither of us aware of the other two passengers in the car. I shift into gear and peel out of Tiff’s driveway before I have a chance to do something that’ll embarrass us both. From the corner of my eye, I see Abby smooth her hands over her mussed-up hair and pull a tube of lip gloss from her pocket. I smile to myself as she swipes the applicator over her lips, knowing my hasty kiss is the reason for her tousled appearance.

Abby guides us to The Barn and we arrive within twenty minutes. She wasn’t kidding about this place. It’s a big red barn hemmed in by cornfields about fifty yards to our left and open pastures to our right, with lights twinkling in the distance. A farmhouse, maybe? I hear a cow moo somewhere in the vicinity, but I’m confident there’s a fence separating us from any livestock. Right?

The Barn’s parking lot is nothing more than loose gravel, and there are cars and trucks parked everywhere. Already, music from inside echoes into the night. An antique gooseneck light illuminates the front where two large red doors with white trim are tightly shut. Instead of approaching them, Abby and Tiff head to a smaller side door. I hold it open as the rest of our group shuffles inside.

The large, open room is dimly lit with Mason jar light fixtures hanging from the rafters. To our right, the stage is tucked into a corner, the band already well into their set. I spot Abby’s brother right away. His olive complexion is a bit lighter than hers and his hair is jet black. Even from this far away, I can tell his eyes are dark, probably a chocolate brown, not emerald like his sister’s. Where Abby is short and curvy, Ethan is tall and lean.

The band is playing something I’ve never heard before, but I kind of like it. It’s country with a little bit of a rock-and-roll edge to it. Abby’s brother belts out the words to this country party anthem, followed by an impressive guitar solo. He catches sight of her and nods his head, smiling like he’s happy to see her. My chest constricts a little. I know Peyton and I would’ve had that kind of relationship if she were still alive.

Although still smiling, his eyes narrow when he looks past Abby to see who she’s with. From this distance, I can’t tell if he’s glaring at me or Luke, and I worry he’ll automatically hate me for being with her. He may be her younger brother, but I can sense how protective they are of each other. Without their parents in the picture, they’ve had to look out for one another.

Once the song is over, he turns to his bandmates and says something none of us can hear, but they nod their heads in understanding. The music starts back up as we settle into a table and Luke heads to the bar to grab the first round of drinks. Ethan does a pretty good job of engaging the crowd, his eyes roving over his captive audience.

His gaze lands on our table frequently, lingering for a moment each time. He never seems to focus on Abby or me, but I notice him eyeing Tiff. I glance across the table at her the next time he looks her way and see her cringe, averting her eyes from his meaningful stare. It’s as if she’s the woman he’s singing the song for, like he’s telling hershe’sthe one that ain’t worth the whiskey. But maybe I’m imagining things or I missed something somewhere because Abby doesn’t seem to notice the odd exchange.

I lean down and speak into her ear. “Did Tiff and Ethan ever date?”

“What?” she asks incredulously. Then she cackles loudly, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “No way. Those two can’t stand each other. And they don’t have anything in common.” She pauses for a second, then adds, “Well, except for singing. They’ve sung together a couple of times, but Tiff hates it.”

Well, that answers that. Maybe.

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