Page 13 of Barbed Wire Fences
To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s the heat causing my heart to race, or the memories creeping in from the last time I spoketo Jael that are running through my mind as I pull up to the familiar court.
Her parent’s old trailer sits just a stone’s throw from my mom’s place—the one I grew up in and still visit often when I can for Sunday night dinner. The driveway looks mostly the same, except now there’s a beat-up black SUV with chipping paint parked out front that I know is not Meredith’s.
I kill the engine, grab my tools, and lace up my work boots before stepping onto the gravel driveway. The crunch of rocks underfoot sounds exactly like it did when we were kids, sneaking between trailers and dodging whatever trouble Whispering Pines Lane had brewing that day. Occasionally, our otherpark ratfriends, Molly and Maverick Patrick, would join Jael and I on our escapades down to the lake or the creek that our town is named after, but usually, it was just Jael and I, hidden under the cover of the night like a blanket.
At the screen door I knock once and wait, but there’s no response. The humidity hangs heavy in the air, the faint buzz of cicadas and the loud air conditioner unit in the kitchen window is the only sound out here. I knock again but when there’s still no response, I push the door open, poking my head inside.
The kitchen is empty, save for a stack of unopened soup cans on the countertop and a few boxes of half-eaten cereal next to the sink. The whole place smells just like an old memory. One that’s filled with the girl I’m not ready to face.
“Meredith?” I call out but don’t get a response. I draw in a deep breath, preparing myself before saying her name. “Jael? You in here?”
Still nothing, but that’s when I hear it—the soft hum of music coming from the back of the trailer home. It’s faint, but familiar. A little too familiar. The type of pop music that Jael used tolisten to when we’d be down by the water shooting the shit on a hot summer day. She’d be telling me some crazy story about how she was going to meet the guys in this boy band and marry them, and I’d be rolling my eyes, working on my truck and pretending like I wasn’t listening.
But I was. I always listened when Jael spoke.
I make my way down the narrow hallway, the sound growing clearer with each step. By the time I reach the door at the end, I can practically recite the lyrics.The Backstreet Boys, of course.
The door is slightly ajar, so I ease it open just enough to see her sitting at her old pink-and-white, cheap, wooden desk, flipping through one of our old yearbooks. There’s a purple CD player—one I’d bet she’s had since high school—sitting beside her, sending out soft music that’s filling the room. She’s humming along, completely lost in the moment and entirely unaware of me standing there watching her.
She’s wearing a white tank top that dips low enough to reveal more than it hides. Her sun-kissed skin glistens with sweat, a sheen that catches the light just enough to have me remembering how soft she feels in my arms.
Her brown hair is pulled into one of those messy half-up, half-down things, with loose strands framing her face and falling onto her shoulders. Her hand rests lightly on her neck, her fingers brushing the delicate line of her collarbone, while the other traces a photo in the yearbook.
I lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of who she’s staring at, but my boot catches on the carpet and makes a sound. The thud isn’t loud, but it’s enough to alert her to the fact that she’s no longer alone.
“What the hell, Rhett!” Jael bolts upright, clutching the yearbook to her chest like it’s some kind of shield.
Her wide eyes meet mine and when they do, it feels like the air’s been sucked out of the tiny, hot room.
It’s been years since I’ve seen Jael last, but the look on her face takes me straight back to the eighteen-year-old girl who broke my heart and left it for ruin before leaving our small town and me behind like we never meant anything to her.
Chapter 6 – Jael
Rhett Miller fills the doorway of my childhood bedroom like a storm I should’ve seen coming, his presence an undeniable reminder of the way that he’d towered over everything and everyone back in high school. The man had practically ruled the rink and the field, dominating both the hockey and lacrosse teams for four solid years.
At six-foot-three,a stat that I’d committed to memory when I put together his senior year highlights for the yearbook,Rhett’s still massive but has grown into his frame with more mature muscles. His light brown hair is combed just right, messy but intentional, and his mischievous green eyes flash with that same spark that always made him the center of attention in our small-town.
He wasn’t on the football team, but his popularity easily rivaled Owen’s, and his personality was what had everyone falling in love with him.Including me.
I take a moment to appreciate how much he’s changed. Dressed in a short-sleeved button-up shirt, untucked over light wash, torn jeans, and wearing dirty work boots, he looks like he’s justwalked off some construction site, but somehow, that only adds to his attraction. His confidence is flooding this room in the same way that his body is making the space feel smaller than I ever remembered.
I blink, still trying to process what he’s doing in my bedroom.
Did he see me looking at our old yearbook?
Has he realized it was his photo that I’d been staring at for way too long?
“Rhett,” I blow out a long breath. “What are you doing here?” I ask again, my voice sharp with confusion. “And do you still think it’s okay to just barge into my mom’s house unannounced?” My arms cross defensively, but even as I do, I can’t shake the feeling of how affected I am by seeing him. I’ve only been home for a couple hours and already I’ve run into two people I thought I might never see again.
His gaze shifts slightly, and suddenly I feel very self-conscious about my low-cut top. I unfold my arms, tug on my tank top, and pull it up dramatically to my chin before letting go. Of course, then his eyes follow down to the midriff that I’ve revealed by this action, a big grin playing on his face like he’s enjoying this.
“That hard up for sex these days?” I ask rolling my eyes.
He chuckles. “Ah, I see you’re still worried about my sex life. All you have to do is ask, sweetheart. It’s good to see you too, Jael. What’s it been, almost ten years now?”
I clench my jaw. “Why. Are. You. In. My. Home?"
He shrugs, still smirking like he’s in on a secret that I know nothing about. “Last I checked, this is Meredith’s home, not yours anymore, and I heard you clogged her toilet.”
