The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

“That was…” I search for the words, not wanting to tell him the truth, leaning forward so my chin rests in my hands. “That was Skip Jennings.”

Jack’s nickname was always The Skip because anytime he would make a touchdown during a game, he would hop through the end zone as if he were being skipped across water—

Skipper.

“I know who Skip Jennings is, Penelope.” He says it with an eye roll, unable to believe how stupid I’m behaving. “What was he doing in my house?”

“I told you!” I throw my hands up in exasperation. I just want to escape. “We used to know each other, and he wanted to catch up. How many more times do we have to say it?”

Eyes narrowed, I can see that he doesn’t believe me.

“And he couldn’t have contacted you like a normal person?” My brother is irritated, stuffing rice into his mouth, chewing, then adding butter. “Like say, oh, I don’t know—texting you? How hard could it have been to get ahold of your phone number? Online, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok—literally any other way than showing up here in the middle of the night.”

Probably not that difficult.

But it’s hardly the middle of the night.

“It’s seven fifteen.”

Another sarcastic eye roll. “You know what I mean.”

Years ago, I’d blocked Jack, so the messages wouldn't have been delivered even if he had tried to text me. The messages wouldn’t have gone through, so he wouldn’t have gotten a reply.

All my social media is private if I have an account at all.

I’m too busy trying to re-enroll in college and finally earn the degree I never received because I got pregnant, dropped out, and came crawling home to my brother.

“Penelope, you’re shaking.” My brother watches me intently, not having missed a single move or breath I’ve taken in the past forty seconds. “Are you afraid of Jack Jennings?”

I mean, in a way, you could say I’m afraid of him but not physically. He would never hurt me. No, I’m afraid of him for entirely different reasons.

Reasons I’m not ready to confess out loud to the man who has supported me emotionally and financially for the past seven years.

I rear back, horrified. “Afraid of Jack? No! What would make you say that?”

“Um, because you’re shaking? Why would you be shaking if you weren’t afraid of the guy? Did he do something to you?” Davis lowers his voice and gets closer. “Is he stalking you? Has he threatened you in any way?”

He has venom in his voice.

“What! No, no, nothing like that. No,” I say again because I literally have no other words. I’m basically speechless. Stunned.

Spooked.

What a shock to open the door and have him be standing on the doorstep.

“He’s not some creepy weirdo, is he? The last thing I need is some dude stalking you. I don’t need the lack of peace of mind when I’m traveling, or I swear to god, I will bring you and Skipper with me.”

He’s gotten himself good and worked up, making threats and promises I know he would keep if Jack proved to be a danger.

Which he’s not.

He’s just a man with fond memories of a girl who broke his heart and left him right when he needed her most.

We were so in love.

But he was a rising star and on the verge of something great. He was training for football while also signing with an agent and entering the draft.

It was all so exciting…

And scary.

So very, very scary.

Leaving was the right thing to do, but the way I did it?

He will never forgive me once he finds out the truth.

“No, Jack Jennings is not some lunatic.”

My brother hesitates and then moves from behind the counter, done with snacking, and snatches up the card Jack had given him earlier. The one I had failed to take from his fingertips because I’d been frozen.

“Well, in that case, here. Seems like he had some shit he wanted to say to you.”

With hands that are still shaky, I take the envelope from his hand, grasping it like a lifeline.

“You sure you’re alright?”

I nod, unconvinced.

I’m most certainly not all right.

“Skipper is fine to stay here tonight. I’ll take her to breakfast in the morning so you can do what you need to do.”

Translation: I think you need to contact Jack Jennings and find out what the hell he was doing on my doorstep.

“Thanks.”

Robotically, I make my way across my brother’s yard and through mine, cutting through the hedgerow separating the properties the same way I’ve done hundreds of times.

After removing my makeup, I take off my clothes and put on pajamas.

I don’t touch the envelope again until I’m seated safely on the bed in my bedroom. After clicking on the lamp on my bedside table, I sit with my stomach in knots, hands trembling.

Hey Penelope,

I hope this letter finds you well. Hope you don’t mind that I tracked down your brother’s address to drop off this letter while I was in town, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing not meant to intrude on your privacy, which is why I didn’t contact you directly. I thought it would be best to leave this letter with your brother.