Page 4 of Chasing Stars
“Come on, it’s okay.” I offer her a reassuring smile.
“I’m coming,” she says, with a shuddering breath. “I’m just in my feelings a little bit.”
I force a sympathetic laugh. “I get it,” I say, even though I don’t, and I never know what women mean when they say that.
“I haven’t been back here since I was a little girl,” she reminds me, following me down the hallway to a small kitchen. There is a round breakfast table with a thick layer of dust coating it. Jenna sneezes and it might be the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.Uh-oh. Reign it in, buddy.I move to flick on a light before remembering there is no electricity. I shine my flashlight at the cabinets. “Pretty standard kitchen from the ’90s,” I mutter.
Jenna pushes her lips together and nods, running an index finger through the layer of dust on the table. Beyond the kitchen, a living room comes into view. Drop cloths cover the couches and end tables. Dusty family photos remain on the mantel. Jenna steps closer and shines her flashlight. She picks a frame off the mantel and dusts the glass off with her sleeve. I don’t want to hover too much, but from here it looks like beach photos of her and her parents. She is so quiet, and suddenly I feel that I’m encroaching on what should be a private moment.
I have the unshakeable urge to make light of the situation. There is a big box TV from the ’90s on a corner cabinet. “There’s a throwback for you, huh?” I gesture toward the TV. “I haven’tseen one of these things since…well, probably since the late nineties.” I chuckle awkwardly—I often deflect with humor when I’m uncomfortable. This is definitely uncomfortable.
Jenna smirks. “I know. Wow,” she muses. “It’s weird to be in here without them.” She shivers. “I want to look at all of it and none of it at the same time.”
Silence hangs between us for a few moments while I wait for her to continue. I can’t take my eyes off her though. Jenna is not like other vacationers who come to Cape May for the sunsets and a good time. I get the feeling she’s not here to escape—she looks like she’s been through the wringer and hasn’t found her way out yet. Jenna sniffles again and meets my gaze—for a second, it’s like she can see right through me.
“You’re right, though. I can’t stay here tonight.” She hugs herself, rubbing her arms for warmth. It’s chilly in here. And Jenna is wearing that defeated look again—I suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to fix it for her.
“You can’t,” I agree, shaking my head. “But we can come back in the daylight and see how it looks tomorrow,” I assure her.
“Okay.” She nods and steps toward me. “But what do I do in the meantime?”
I smile. “I have an idea, come on.” I cock my head back toward the kitchen.
This time, she grabsmywrist. “Miles.” I turn and look at her wistful expression. “Thank you.”
I’m in so much trouble.
3
JENNA
Miles parks his car in the alley behind the Washington Street Mall, right in front of a sign that readsNO PARKING ANYTIME. He turns off the engine and looks my way. “Let’s get something to eat and I’ll help you figure out a place to stay.” He smiles, and I force myself to ignore the little flip my heart does when he reveals his dimple. “Come on, everything will be okay.”
I glance at the sign and arch an eyebrow. “Okay, but just so you know…you’re parked in a no-parking zone.” Normally, I’d insist on finding a place to stay first, clinging to the kind of control that a plan offers—but I’m starving and this stranger seems to know what I need most right now.
When he grins at me, he looks like a mischievous teenager. “I know the manager.” He winks. “Come on.” Throwing open his door, he walks around to mine, opening it at the same time I reach for the handle, taking me by surprise.Who is this guy?
I’ll admit, I’m warming to him. We might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but I’d be lying if I said he didn’t rescue me today. Sure, I would have called a tow truck and a cab, then found a hotel, but it was really nice to have the support of a stranger. I’mused to figuring things out on my own. My dad died when I was nine, and after that, it was always just me and my mom, but she worked a lot. I was a latchkey kid, and I had to fend for myselfoften. It made me independent—and it made me adept at taking care of her when she needed it—but I forgot how nice it is to have help.
“Okay, I trust you. Lead the way, rule breaker,” I say, falling in step beside him.
Miles leads me out of the alley and into the Washington Street Mall. It’s almost exactly as I remember, and on this Friday evening, the shops are bustling. The town has the mall decorated for autumn with pumpkins, hay bales, and corn stalks throughout. Twinkling lights adorn the trees, giving the walk a magical feel. Miles stops in front of The Ugly Mug, a historic landmark restaurant that I remember from my childhood. It was old even then. I make a mental note to look up when it opened. Miles swings open the door and a few patrons look our way. A group of guys at the corner of the bar erupt into cheers.
“There he is!” one shouts.
“We thought you ditched us,” another adds.
“But he’s coming in with a pretty lady, so maybe heisditching us,” the first one says again.
“It’s after Labor Day, bro. No more vacationers.” The third guy shouts, laughing at his own joke.
Even though it’s clear his friends are teasing him, my face burns and I look at the floor.
“Shut up, you stiffs.” He pulls out a barstool for me, then takes the one closest to them. “This is Jenna. She’s an out-of-townclient.”
There’s no mistaking the emphasis onclient—and for a fleeting moment I wonder what it might be like if I was more. Maybe Miles is just a kind guy, but he definitely lets his gaze linger a bit too long for someone I just met.
“Client, right. Maybe for now.” One of them laughs and elbows the guy next to him in a knowing way.
