Page 15 of Worthy Now
“What did I do?” I whine, already dreading the answer.
“Well, after you guys emerged from the bathroom with matching grins and a second wind, you kept yelling, ‘From the ashes we rise’, and laughing hysterically, like a couple of schoolgirls. Thenyou ordered virgin martinis—shaken, not stirred—and argued over the best James Bond for over an hour.”
Sean Connery, hands down.
“After that, you moved to the stage area, just as the band was finishing up their set. You grabbed Chase’s electric guitar and gave what you thought of as the best damn solo of your life.” I moan like a dying animal as I listen to Tessa outline my humiliation in vivid detail. “I have to admit you were surprisingly good, considering the astounding amounts of alcohol flowing through your system,” she goes on, showing no mercy. “A few people even asked for an encore, which you were all too happy to give, but by that point, Roger was ready to close the place down and politely asked us to leave. You and Carter broke into a round of ear-splitting boos but eventually accepted the night was over and let us herd you into a waiting cab. It took me and Megan to wrestle you up the porch steps but once we opened your front door, you assured us you’re a big boy capable of looking after yourself. Then you slammed the door in our faces with a resounding, ‘See ya later, bitches.’”
“Oh my God. Just kill me now,” I beg as Tessa’s delighted laughter trickles down the line.
“Could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t start stripping on your front lawn and gave your elderly neighbor a show she didn’t ask for.”
“He didn’t?”
“Oh, he did.” Tessa chuckles. “When Megan tried to get him inside—while apologizing to poor Mrs. Fraser, who’ll most likely never recover from the sight of Carter’s pale ass glowing in the moonlight—he growled at her like an animal. The poor woman almost broke an ankle in her haste to get away. Not gonna lie, it’ll be a tad awkward the next time they meet at the mailbox.”
Now I’m laughing at the image of my buddy’s burning face while Mrs. Fraser gives himthe lookin her morning robe. The one that screams she has no idea what went wrong with our generation.
“You guys were off your rockers,” Tessa needlessly points out. “Don’t worry, though. Megan and I kept the damage to a minimum. You can thank me later.”
“There’s a reason I gave up binge drinking,” I muse, throwing an arm over my eyes to block out the light. My whole body aches, and I really need to get my ass into the bathroom and brush my teeth. There’s a fishy taste in my mouth that I can’t quite place, but most definitely isn’t helping with the queasiness. A loud knock has me rolling my face toward the door, and Anna sticks her head into the room. “Hey, big brother. I just got home and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Hang on a second.” Covering the phone with one hand, I frown at my little sister. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe ‘cos the kitchen resembles a battlefield. It looks like you fed a small army, and you’ve ruined the bottom of my favorite pan. Or maybe it’s all the empty sardine cans littering the breakfast bar and stinking the place up. Aren’t you a bitoldfor a frat party?”
Well, that explains the lingering notes of fish. I press a hand to my gurgling stomach and blow out a controlled breath. “I’ll be down to clean up in a bit. Just do me a favor. Throw out the cans and crack a window, would you?”
Anna gives an unconcerned shrug, seemingly satisfied that I’m merely hungover and not dying from alcohol poisoning, before she pulls the door shut behind her.
“Christ,” I bite out, pressing the phone back to my ear. “Sounds like I almost burned the house down last night. Not sure what I was cooking up, but it mustn’t have been up to par because I settled on a shit-ton of sardines instead.”
Tessa cackles at the resigned way I deliver the news and offers to help clean, which I graciously decline. I’m in no condition to get out of bed, let alone deal with singed pots and puddles of fish juice. I don’t even like sardines. Jude began stockpiling them back when he read somewhere that certain fish fats are supposed to help with muscle soreness, and they’ve been collecting dust in the pantry eversince. The mere thought of me wolfing down one can of the vile stuff, let alone several, makes me want to vomit.
“Well, you take it easy then, you wild man,” she orders when I tell her I’ll probably just go back to sleep for a few hours.
“Tessa?” I call out before she has a chance to hang up. “Thanks for the damage control, and for convincing me not to kick Shane’s ass and saving me from a potential lawsuit. I owe you one.” I hesitate for a moment before I ask the question I’ve been holding back since we shared that mind-blowing kiss last night. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend to make up for it?” The line goes quiet, and I wait for her answer with bated breath. After the way I behaved last night, there’s a good chance she may never want to be seen with me in public again.
“I’d love to, Jake, and you’re very welcome. Anything for you. Always.” The sincerity behind her words does funny things to my insides, and I thank my lucky stars that I haven’t scared her off. Then again, she’s seen me at my worst, so she’s probably pretty desensitized.
“Great. I’ll pick you up after work on Friday? Say, around six? Oh, and wear something nice.” I end the call before she can change her mind and close my eyes with a contented smile. When I drift off, it’s to the memory of Tessa’s lush body moving against mine, and the prospect of a repeat performance.
Nine
Jake
Iwipe my sweaty palms down the fabric of my dress pants and inhale a shaky breath, feeling like a fish out of water. I’m beginning to think the fancy button-down was a mistake because it feels like I’m suffocating. The only reason I even chose the damn thing in the first place is that it looks phenomenal paired with my leather loafers. Still, I’m beginning to wonder,Am I overdressed? Is Tessa going to take one look at me and think I’m reading way more into the situation than there is to it? Did she think me asking her out was just a friendly way to say thanks for keeping the humiliation to a minimum the other night? Maybe she’s expecting a casual night at the diner or a trip to the local Drive Inn. Then again, I did tell her to wear something nice.
Fuck, now I’m second-guessing myself and I don’t do that shit anymore. We are way past feeling insecure. Clutching the bouquet of handpicked wildflowers like it’s my only lifeline, I listen to the approaching footsteps with trepidation. I haven’t been this nervous since the night Tessa and I made love for the very first time. I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot of experience when it comes to dating, and I’ve certainly never given anyone the wining and dining experience.
There’s before, and then there’s after Tessa, and during neither of those periods have I ever cared enough to go all out. Women have always come easy to me. Too easy, considering I all but had to beat Jessica Cartwright off with a stick for most of my life. Tonight, it feels different. Special.
When the door finally swings open, I’m relieved to find Tessa’s mother greeting me, grateful to be given a few extra moments to compose myself. Mrs. Davidson peers up at me from beneath the lavender headscarf she’s most likely wearing to cover her balding head. I swallow hard as I take in her gaunt face and skinny frame but force myself to return her warm smile.
“Looking a little worse for wear, huh?” she asks before she steps forward and wraps me up in a surprisingly strong hug. Still feels like I could snap her like a twig if I squeezed a little too hard, though, and that breaks my fucking heart. I’m very familiar withthe way the disease works. How it takes strong, resilient people and transforms them into frail shadows of their former selves. I watched my dad wither away until he was nothing but skin and bone, staring right through me with a faraway look in his eyes as the morphine drip in his arm turned him into a vacant vessel. It was a cruel, degrading, and painful way to go, and I pray with everything in me that the woman in front of me won’t have to suffer the same fate. I never want Tessa to experience the overwhelming sensation of helplessness I faced during my father’s final days.
No matter how much I may have despised Robert Nelson on a normal day, it’s impossible to hold on to that emotion when the person it’s directed at can’t even get out of bed without help. No one should have to die in such an inhumane way. I was the only one in the room when he took his last breath, and sometimes I still wake up in a cold sweat, reliving that awful moment in my dreams.
Shaking off the unpleasant memory, I take a step back and meet a pair of familiar, kind eyes. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Mrs. Davidson. Very Marilyn Monroe. Suddenly, I have the urge to take you for a ride in my vintage convertible.”
