Page 22 of The Usual Family Mayhem

Yeah, obviously. “I’m aware.”

“Well, we aren’t yet because you’re diving right into your poison theory.” He glanced at my notebook. “You’re skipping over the food part.”

Did he sound frustrated... disappointed... something? I took another look at the couple at the table next to ours. They were holding hands and debating which entrées to get. The woman giggled. A grown woman giggling. No wedding ring, so maybe a date?

Wait...Every thought in my head blinked out. For a few seconds, I couldn’t remember how to put words together.

After a false start and a bit of sputtering, I leaned in even closer. “Is this a date? Us. Right now. It’s not, right? Because...”Oh my God. “Right?”

Somehow my floundering questions, meant to be asked in a whisper, came out as a semi-shout. People at more than one neighboring table stared at me. The server who was headed to our table performed an impressive spin and roamed off in another direction.

Absolutely fantastic. I hadn’t been embarrassed in this town in years. Mostly because I only came home for short visits. If I stayed longer this would be more of a regular occurrence.

“I’d like to think if this were a date you’d know.” Jackson kept his voice at a normal, non-screaming, non-embarrassing level.

“Cryptic but okay.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

No, he didn’t get to drop a curt reply without an explanation. He wasn’t allowed to be ticked off and distant. He’s the one who started the sometimes sarcastic, always noncommittal back-and-forth relationship dance we’d been stuck in for years.

“Because you made your position clear... on that. Back then. You scurried away at a flat-out run.” Now I had too many words bouncing around in my head. I tried to force my mouth to stop but lost the battle. “You did, actually. Run. That time.”

So much nonsense rambling. The dinner shifted from weird to awkward, heading straight for wildly uncomfortable.

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

That’s all he had? “Did you not hear what I said?”

“I heard you.”

Then the anger bubbling up from my stomach was justified. As if he didn’t know what he’d done. Wrong. He knew. He remembered. If he didn’t remember that would be worse than what actually happened because it would show my stunning downfall meant nothing to him. He should at least have some remorse for the way he handled the situation.

He fell back on his usual frowning. “Kasey?”

Argh...fine. “The kiss, Jackson. What else would I be talking about?”

That time I hit the whisper sweet spot. My voice stayed low. I didn’t sound pathetic, needy, or angry. I aimed for nonchalant, but his frown said I’d missed.

“Are you kidding?” he asked when he finally spoke again.

Not the response I expected. “I know it meant nothing to you but—”

“That was years ago.”

Yet I remembered it like it was yesterday. Searing shame did that to a person.

I’d kissed him. In the same gazebo I’d sat in most of the day. I reached up and put my arms around his neck, balanced on my tiptoes, and kissed him. He acted like I tried to set him on fire. Hisno wayresponse made me want to dig a hole and climb into it.

He bolted. Ran away yelling. I didn’t see him for almost a month after that. When we met up again at some shindig at Gram and Celia’s house we both pretended the kiss never happened. For him, it apparently didn’t, and it sure didn’t mean anything.

Men really sucked sometimes.

He continued to stare at me. His mouth wasn’t hanging open, but it wasn’t closed. He looked two seconds away from shouting.

“Sixteen.” That’s all he said.

I whined about my flailing kiss. He threw out a number. “Are we just saying random things now? I guess I pick four.”

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