Page 40 of Always You

Nothing to do with the almost-kiss.

The wrong, inappropriate, almost-kiss.

If only I could forget what it was like to kiss Jazz. We were so young, but no hookup or wannabe partner ever matched the same energy, excitement, and sheer possibility of what we experienced before I decided what was best and pushed him away.

I was still processing the fact that I’d leaned into him, sipping my coffee for warmth, when I noticed the door open. Jazz, Harper, and her mom exchanged what seemed like a lastgoodbye. They hugged, even Jazz and his ex, and I saw Jazz’s smile and hope flared in my chest. Yet, disappointment took over as our eyes met. Instead of signaling me to come over and talk, he turned and went inside without uttering a single word.

Why would he want to talk to me, anyway?

Moments later, to my surprise, Jazz reappeared. He came out carrying his own thermos of coffee, bundled up against the cold. There was a settled, contented aura about him as he approached, and he was different from how I’d seen in him earlier. His smile relaxed as he hovered opposite me.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there before. “Okay if I join you?”

“Of course,” I replied, patting the spare seat—Marcus’s seat—showing there was room for him at the small table. The garden was quiet, a peaceful setting that seemed a world away from the emotional intensity of the family room inside. “How did it go?”

Jazz blew on his coffee before taking a sip, his eyes reflecting a serene happiness. “It went… well, better than I expected, honestly. We talked—a lot. And Harper, she…” He paused, searching for the right words. “She’s amazing. She’s grown into such an incredible person, and she still wants me in her life, even after I fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck up.”

“I stayed away.”

“You were a soldier.”

“I had time off?—”

“You were fighting a war that hooked you and wouldn’t let your mind leave.”

He considered me and gave me a small shrug, barely discernible under the puffiness of his big winter jacket. “I still take blame where it’s due. I could have done more, and I shouldn’t have ended up on the streets.”

“Did you ever feel you had a choice?”

He waited some more, then shook his head, and we fell silent.

“It was a good day,” he said with a smile.

I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee. “I’m glad, Jazz. I am. You deserved a good day.”

He chuckled, looking around at the snow-dusted garden. “I did, didn’t I? And it was—thanks to you too. Having you here, knowing you were nearby, it helped. More than you might realize.”

The admission stirred something in me: a mix of happiness and a poignant gratitude that we were here, in this moment together. Forget the almost kiss. This was what I was here for… to help.

“I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

We fell into a comfortable silence again, the kind you could only share with someone who understood you. In this same silence, I remembered long, lazy afternoons spent together, my head in his lap, and him reading a book—always reading—which made me feel warm inside.

Jazz filled a plastic cup from his thermos, tendrils of steam rising from it, and he sipped, his gaze lingering on the tree above us. “You know, sitting here after seeing Harper, it feels like I can breathe again.” He met my eyes, his eyes holding a depth of emotion that resonated with my own feelings. “Thanks, Alex. For everything.”

“It’s what friends are for,” I said, the phrase feeling a little too casual for that almost-kiss and all the days that lay between us.

Jazz nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he raised his tatty cup in a toast. “Here’s to friends, then,” he said.

“To friends,” I echoed, clinking my cup against his.

Another break of silence settled between us, and all I could think about was that damn near-kiss, and maybe I somehow telegraphed my thoughts, or perhaps I knew Jazz was thinkingthe same thing, but it wasn’t long before with a determined expression, he cleared his throat. I shifted, sensing the conversation would delve into territories we’d avoided.

“We, uhm… should talk about before,” Jazz said, his voice hesitant.

I played dumb because I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront whatever was lingering beneath the surface of our recent reconnections. “‘Before’?” I echoed, feigning confusion but knowing what he meant.

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