Page 17 of All the Way
I watch him through the frosted front window as he goes inside, Paul shaking his hand and welcoming him in. It all seems so real and so true. I resume rooting around in the back of my truck and finally dig out what I’m looking for. It’s my acceptance letter to the vet program I’m thinking of transferring to. I know what moving back home would mean. It would mean that Chris and I would have a real chance to go all the way this time. I just don’t know if I’m ready yet.
Shoving the letter into the glove compartment, I hop out of the truck and go inside the house. It smells like fresh sugar cookies, cardamom and rosemary. Paul and Chris are sitting on the couch with a cold beer each, and I go into the kitchen, pull on an apron and start helping my sister peel and chop some potatoes. Looking up from my work and over to Chris, I catch him looking at me while he’s talking to Paul. He takes a long swig from his beer, and the memory of his lips on me sends butterflies into my stomach.
Chapter Eight - Chris
Paul and I are shooting the shit and catching up on what’s been going on for each of us over the past year. He’s the assistant coach for the nearby university’s football team, but I already knew that. Even if I didn’t make it a point to follow his career, it would be impossible not to hear about him from the bar rats in town. He’s the town’s golden boy, and even though the team is nothing to write home about, he’s like a local celebrity.
As for me, I’m not someone people give two shits about discussing. My life over the past year has been a progression from getting my degree, things really going fucking south with my family life, and then finally lucking out with this gig selling trees. I made two pretty good new friends there and earned some nice tips, but besides that, I usually wake up with either a raging hangover or still drunk from the night before. It’s a good thing helping people pick out a tree isn’t rocket science.
But that’s all changing now, right before my eyes, because of her.
And even though I polished off a bunch of beers yesterday, today I feel light as a fucking feather, no skull full of lead like normal.
I watch Jess move about the kitchen with ease. My idea of a meal is a bowl of cereal or a microwaved frozen burrito. If I’m really feeling culinary, I’ll squirt some hot sauce on the thing. But seeing Jess in there doing her thing is making me want to get beside her and learn a thing or two about being in the kitchen. Call me a regular gourmand.
Chatting with Paul, I hear a car drive up the street and turn into Jess’ driveway.
“Hey, isn’t that your father’s car?” Paul says, pointing to the window with his beer bottle. “It’ll be nice to see the old guy.”
Jess pads over to me, wiping her hands on her apron. I picture her with nothing underneath, her little tits and pussy raw and ripe for me to bend her over and take her over the kitchen counter when we eventually get an apartment of our own together.
“Told you he’d be here,” she says, flashing a smile and looking at me with those blazing, kind eyes.
She rushes over to the front door and swings it open, reaching out and hugging my dad as he comes into the house. He’s been here before, but not in a long time. Jess’ parents were always friendly with mine, and as I glance up the stairs to see Mr. and Mrs. Murphy come down in their holiday sweaters, I can see that they’re smiling and happy to see my dad.
I can’t believe he came through. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he and I will be able to sit down and have dinner together.
And it’s all thanks to Jess.
Chapter Nine - Jess
After the plates have been scraped and the dishes stacked up high in the sink, I flop down onto the couch beside Chris and snuggle into him.
“I can’t believe there are hardly any leftovers,” I say, patting my stomach.
“That’s because everything went right in there,” Chris says, poking me on the side of the rib.
“Hey!” I lean up and sneak a kiss onto his cheek, the soft stubble of his beard tickling my lips. I look over at the tree, wishing granddad were here, but this is turning out to be a pretty good Christmas after all. Maybe he really was watching over me when I stopped my car in the middle of the road like a crazy lady and Chris ended up rescuing me. I thought it was a bad thing at the time, but maybe it’s going to all end up okay.
“It looks nice outside, babe. Want to go for a ride?” He slips a hand around my shoulder and tugs gently on a lock of my hair, sending goosebumps across my skin. I turn the idea over in my mind and nod. “We can play that old mix tape someone made for you,” he adds.
“You may have grown up, but you’re still emo. You know that?” I press against him and then get up to retrieve my keys from the counter.
“Wait, you really think that about me?” he asks, smiling and pushing his hair back from his face as he stands up. “You think I’ve grown up?”
We make our way outside and to my truck. The weather is mild now, and the piles of snow are melting into puddles. It makes me think of spring, when everything melts and allows the grass and trees to get ready for the heat of the summer.
I turn on the truck and we start off, unsure of where we’re going. I turn on the radio and flip off the station playing 24-hour Christmas music in favor of that old mix tape instead.
“Yeah,” Chris says, putting his hands behind his head. “I remember this one. Makes me think of driving to the liquor store for a bottle of wine for us after a long day in the auxiliary library where they housed all the science and math texts.”
I sigh, wondering where the years have gone. “Yeah. That was nice. I remember how good you were at math and how you always had to help me with those stupid prerequisite classes.”
Chris turns the music down and points over to a clearing in the trees at the side of the road. It’s a lookout point off the main road, giving motorists a chance to take a break from driving and take in some of the gorgeous sights of the rolling hills. I always love coming here in fall, but at night there isn’t much to see. “Do me a favor and pull over here?”
I signal and check my rearview mirror, pulling over into one of the parking spaces painted in bright yellow lines. “What’s the matter?” I ask, shifting into park.
“Nothing.” A shadow from the moonlight coming through the trees dances on his face, his eyes hungry and needy. He reaches over and puts a hand between my legs, kissing me deeply on the mouth, his lips devouring me. “Come here, baby,” he says, reaching over me to unbuckle my seatbelt.
