Nothing Feels Better (Better Love 3)

14

Stay tonight.

Jesse’s words echo in my head throughout the day. Through all the laughter and fun, his words tease me. Tempt me.

It’s been a wonderful day, and I cannot wait to go back through the pictures I’ve taken. Watching Jesse, Kelley, and Riggs toss Jude around in the water like a beach ball was one of my favorite parts, and seeing June not only shed her sweatshirt proudly, but engage animatedly with Jesse and his friends made my heart swell so much, I worried it would burst. There are so many superpowers amongst this group that I can’t even keep track.

“Meatball,” Jesse shouts, dragging me from my thoughts. “Look what I got.” He holds up a bag of marshmallows and a stack of chocolate bars. From beside him, June holds a box of graham crackers. Jesse winks at me. “The boy with no s’mores no more.”

“’MORES!” Jude shouts. He bounces on the picnic table bench next to me, wrapped in his Spider-Man towel with lake water still dripping off his eyelashes. “I want ‘mores!”

“How can you want more of something when you haven’t had anything yet,” Jesse jokes, and Bailey groans from her place on the sun lounger.

“No more movie quotes,” she says dramatically. “I’m begging. Find a new fixation, please.”

“You’re killing me, Smalls,” Jesse says, then bounces a marshmallow off her head.

I laugh, recognizing the line from The Sandlot, and send a questioning look at Ivy across the table. She shakes her head with a grin.

“He gets on these kicks,” she says, then shrugs as if it explains everything.

It does.

He hyper-focuses, pays intense attention for a short period of time, then loses interest. He basically told me so himself. Jack of many trades and all that. I’m his current kick, and just like with the movie quotes, he’s forcing his friends to put up with me.

I fight against the harsh voice that creeps up, spitting inevitable truths. This won’t last. It’s just a passing fancy. Scratching an itch. You’re nothing special.

No one’s gonna want you.

Especially not Jesse, a gorgeous twenty-three-year-old college student who is bound for Harvard Med in a couple of months. Not his friends, all young and successful in a way I have never been, on the cusps of lives I’ll never experience, with loves and relationships I’ll never understand. These five are so close that they’re more than friends. They’re family. It’s obvious in every interaction. Me and the kids, we’re just visiting.

I look toward June, now sitting on the lounger next to Bailey, breaking graham crackers into s’more-ready squares. And Jude, sandwiched between Kelley and Riggs, as Jesse pushes marshmallows on a stick for him. Am I letting them get too comfortable? We’ve never had people in our lives before. Patrick never allowed it.

Is it going to cause irreparable damage when this group of superheroes inevitably moves on without us, or is this interaction good for the kids? Is it healthy for them—for me—to see how relationships and friendships are supposed to work? To feel like they’re part of something, even if just for a moment.

I’ve been a mom for eight years now, and I feel like I’m still figuring this all out as I go. Trial and error and crossing my fingers that I don’t accidentally facilitate lasting trauma.

A hand covers mine on the picnic table, and I glance up to find Ivy watching me. Her gaze sharp and astute. She gives me a soft smile and a hand squeeze.

“We are all very glad you’re here, Joss,” she says to me in a voice smooth and warm like sunshine. “The day wouldn’t have been half as fun without you and the kids.” She grins impishly. “No wonder Jesse can’t stop talking about you.”

I laugh awkwardly in protest, but she shakes her head. “I’m happy you’re here, Jocelyn. And so is he.”

I bounce my green eyes between her blue ones. “Thank you,” I say quietly, and she nods.

When she gets up to help make s’mores a few seconds later, I consider what she said. I consider the whole day. Every heated look and intentional touch. Every chill. Every blush. If I can only feel like this until August, I should take advantage of it.

After tuckingJune and Jude into the queen-size bed in the spare room, I kiss them each goodnight and tell them I’ll be back in a little while. I don’t worry about them waking. They’ve had a busy day and could barely keep their eyes open at dinner.

I wander downstairs in search of Jesse and find him putting things away in the kitchen with Kelley. I can hear the rest of them in the family room laughing. When Jesse sees me, I motion for him to meet me in the hallway. He mumbles something to Kelley then follows me out of the kitchen.

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. He smirks at me, then leans on the wall and drags his eyes up my body, lingering on my hips, then my chest.

“Hi.”

We stare at each other for a moment, him undressing me with his eyes and me trying my best not to pant. I can do this. Just be cool. Confident. Now or never.

“Do you, um, want to go upstairs and show me your room?” I say, wincing at how juvenile I must sound. He doesn’t laugh, though. He doesn’t mock. He just smiles.

“Did you read that book?” he asks in a low voice.

I nod. “Yes.”

“And highlighted the parts that turned you on?”

I swallow and nod again. “Yes.”

His grin is wicked. “Fuck yeah, I want to go upstairs with you, Classic.”

I laugh, and when he sticks his hand out for me, I take it and let him lead me up the stairs. We tiptoe past the other guest rooms and sneak quietly into the room where he’s sleeping. I watch him close and lock the door, then he turns and stalks toward me.

I back up on instinct, and he halts.