Page 11 of Worthy Now
I vividly remember the way I felt when I first arrived in Jenkins Creek, convinced I’d never fit in and adjust to small-town life. Boy, was I wrong. I can finally admit to myself that this place is home. The thought no longer makes me feel trapped, but gives me a deep sense of belonging instead. It’s like the old saying goes—home iswhere the heart is—and my heart has always remained in this little Texas town, waiting for me to return so it can start beating again.
Glancing over at the guy responsible for jumpstarting the sluggish organ in my chest, I can’t help but smile at the childlike excitement on his face. Jake hands me an enormous ball of cotton candy and tears into his own like he’s waited for this moment all year. He already devoured a candy apple, two chocolate-covered bananas, a funnel cake with all the fixings, and a bag of caramel-covered popcorn. How he stomachs it all boggles my mind. I tear off a bite-sized piece and pop it into my mouth while I watch him close his eyes in bliss, savoring the cloud-like treat like he may never get another.
“What?” he asks when he catches my bemused expression.
“Just thinking about how everything is still exactly how it’s always been. Same rides, same vendors, same activities, and you’re still tearing through the concession stands like a California wildfire.”
The corner of Jake’s mouth kicks up and he flashes me an adorable half-smile. Patting the stomach that has no business being this flat, he says, “Gotta take advantage. This only happens once a year. Have to make sure I get my fill before the whole town goes back to being bland and boring.”
“Who are you calling bland and boring?” Carter pipes up from beside a giggling Megan.
“Calm down, you drama llama. I wasn’t talking about you, but even if I was, I wouldn’t be wrong.”
“I beg your finest pardon?”
Jake smirks. “Dude, you’re married to your high school sweetheart, have a houseful of kids and a white picket fence. You even own a goddamn Golden Retriever, for crying out loud. If bland and boring had a poster child, you’d be featured on every billboard. No offense,” he adds with a grin, slapping a scowling Carter on the back so hard he almost spills his sweet tea. We’ve been at the fair just over three hours, and these two have ragged on each other since we got here, bickering like an old, married couple. I’ve laughed so much my stomach hurts, and it feels amazing to be a part of these familiar dynamics again.
Carter’s parents took the kids home after we’d done our best to tire them out for most of the afternoon. My arm still feels like a wet noodle from waving like a madwoman each time the carrousel brought them around again. They took part in every activity offered for their age group, and Jake spent a ridiculous amount of money at the ring toss, refusing to give up until he won each of them the giant stuffy they’d set their eyes on. I could only admire his tenacity and hearing him use every child-friendly cussword known to man whenever he missed his target was pretty darn entertaining. I enjoyed getting to know my best friend’s offspring a little more, but I am more than ready to move on to the adult part of the evening.
Frankly, kids are exhausting. Live music is about to begin in the town square any minute now, and an after-party is being held at the saloon, where yet another band is set to continue the entertainment into the early hours. I feel like I’m sixteen again, giddy with excitement at the prospect of a night out.
Megan slings an arm around her husband’s waist in a show of support and blinks up at Jake with an indignant expression.
“I can assure you; my man is anything but boring. He may be domesticated, but he still knows how to have a good time. One might even say we’re having too much fun, seeing as he’s knocked me up every other year since we first started dating. If I weren’t still breastfeeding, I’d show you exactly how much fun I can be. As it stands, I have to pump these puppies in a few hours to keep them from exploding in a spray of milk.”
Jake’s previously amused expression morphs into one of horror, but Megan isn’t done. “My husband, however, is still more than capable of keeping up with the likes of you, Nelson. Matter of fact, I bet he could drink you under the table, no problem.”
“Oh yeah?” Jake counters, never one to turn down a challenge.
“Oh dear. Here we go,” Carter groans like he knows something I’m not privy to. Noticing my confusion, he gives a resigned sigh. “My darling wife and best friend have made it their life goal to out-challenge each other and pretty much make a bet out of everything. I’ve never seen two people more stubborn and competitive. Sorry, babe,” he adds, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Funny thing is, I always seem to be the one who has to carry out her crazy ideas while she sits back and watches me make a fool of myself.”
Megan twists her lips into a mocking pout. “Oh, my poor baby. Having a few drinks with your best friend and getting a night off from parenthood seems like such a hardship.”
“It is if your kids use your body as a trampoline at the butt crack of dawn, and your head is pounding like a motherfucker. Is it just me, or do hangovers last a lot longer these days?”
Megan dismisses her husband’s complaints with a flick of her wrist. “Stop moaning. How am I supposed to prove that we still got it if you’re acting like you have one foot in the grave already? You’re twenty-five, Carter. Live a little. The kids won’t be home until noon tomorrow. Just think about the rewards if you win.” A slow, sensual smile settles on her features. “Do I have to remind you of that car ride home the last time Jake lost a bet and got stuck with the kids overnight? Good Lord, I was walking bow-legged for days.”
“Jesus Christ, Megan. TMI.” Jake visibly shudders. “I’m trying to enjoy my cotton candy over here. Not an easy feat, considering you keep planting images of breast milk explosions and Carter’s wrinkly ball sack in my head. Fucking double ew.”
I burst out laughing and give his shoulder a sympathetic pat. Megan’s vivid description seems to have a very different effect on her husband, who steeples his fingertips together like Mr. Burns, a devious smirk playing around his lips.
“Fuck it. I’m in. What are the terms?”
Megan takes a moment to consider the options before her eyes light up with glee. “Okay, this is how it’s going to be.” Jake throws Carter a pitying look. Whether that’s because he thinks his friend is going down, or because he’s married to the woman currently calling the shots; it’s hard to tell. But as I listen to Megan outline the rules, I can’t help but think that what started out as a seemingly innocent afternoon is quickly turning into a night I won’t soon forget.
Seven
Jake
This is a bad idea.I try to hide my apprehension as I stare down at the row of shot glasses decorating the bar top. The Stampede Saloon is packed tonight. The whole town seems to be crammed into the building, so ordering these drinks was a challenge. Eyeing the variety of hard liquors now, I kind of wish they’d made us wait a little longer. I could’ve used the extra time to mentally prepare. I haven’t knocked back drinks for the sole purpose of getting shit-faced in years, and I already know I’ll regret this come morning. I tilt my head and squint, praying my eyes are playing tricks on me in the dim lighting. Nope, that’s a small brain floating in one of my glasses. “You know this is a terrible idea, right?”
I make a face at what I can only hope to be a mass of curdled Irish Cream. I’m a beer guy. I rarely touch the hard stuff anymore. Given my past issues, I always thought it best to stick to a two-drink minimum. I’m not too worried about the booze. Alcohol has never really been my problem. It does cause me to lower my guard, however, and up until a couple of years ago, I didn’t trust myself enough to give up that control. These days, I’m pretty confident in my ability to let loose and not wind up nose-deep in a bag of coke. Besides, I’m surrounded by people I can count on to keep me out of trouble. Carter and Megan have watched me go down that rabbit hole before. There’s no way they’d let me fall off the wagon on their watch, so I’m not concerned.
Once Megan finished laying out the terms, Tessa and I separated from the enemy and went in search of sustenance to prepare for tonight’s foolish shenanigans. I’d devoured a cheeseburger with fries, a couple of Reuben sandwiches, and chugged a big glass of milk to coat my stomach lining. I’m as prepared as I can be to whoop my best friend’s ass, and I’ll be damned if I lose to a guy who goes to bed by nine and drinks kale smoothies for breakfast.
The girls ordered the first round for us, and Megan—never one to shy away from a challenge—chose violence. At least two out of the three shots meant for me contain Jägermeister, a liquor she knows damn well I can’t stand, which is something that connivinglittle minx is counting on. Tessa retaliated by ordering Carter three shots of Jameson, well aware he’s not a whiskey drinker and always gags excessively whenever he gives into peer pressure.
“There’s still time to back out, Nelson! I promise not to tease you too much if you forfeit now.” Carter’s smug expression says one thing, but his eyes are begging me to put a stop to this madness before someone gets hurt. Here’s the thing. Between the two of us, I’ve never been the responsible one and that’s not about to change tonight. He made his bed when he succumbed to his wife’s need to one-up me. Now he can fucking lie in it.
