Pocketful of Sand

I tell Emmy to play in her room and I clean up the kitchen as Jason makes calls. Evidently the towing service really is closed, and he calls Jordan three times, all with no answer. “She’s probably drunk already,” he says by way of explanation. He sits with his phone dangling between his knees for a couple of minutes, as though he’s waiting for me to make him an offer. I’m thinking to myself that hell will have to freeze over first. Finally, he takes up his phone again. His sigh is dramatic and loud. “I guess I could try Jep. Maybe he can give me a ride.”

Jep answers and agrees to come and get Jason, much to my relief. “He’ll be here in fifteen.”

My smile is genuine this time. “Good.” I don’t add what I’m thinking, which is that he can’t get here soon enough.

FIFTEEN

Eden

THE SNOW STARTS again the next morning. This one is different. It looks different, feels different. It’s just…different. There’s a stillness in the air that reminds me of the calm before a storm. It doesn’t help that the weatherman keeps talking about the Nor’easter we’ll get if the jet stream dips down and the moisture stays put and blah, blah, blah. I don’t pay too much attention because Emmy and I are stocked up and ready. It doesn’t matter to me either way. As long as Jason gets his truck and doesn’t try to wiggle his way in here again, I’m good.

It’s late in the evening, long past dark, when Jason arrives. He’s in the passenger seat of the same truck that picked him up the other night. I should probably go out and speak to him, but I don’t want to. I’d rather pretend I didn’t see. Even though I did. And only because I was staring at the house across the street, wondering if Cole is there.

I haven’t seen him since the beach, and even though that was only yesterday, I want to see him. Again. And again. It makes no sense, of course, but that doesn’t change the facts. I think about him so much, think about his life and his past, the way he looks at me and the way it felt when he kissed me. He said that I was in his head. Well, he’s in mine, too. In my head, under my skin. He’s everywhere. Even when he’s nowhere.

I smother a growl when I hear a knock at the door. Emmy looks up from her perch on the back of the couch, her green eyes wary. She doesn’t like visits from Jason either.

“Who is it, Momma?” she loud whispers.

I put my finger over my lips. “Jason,” I answer quietly.

“Don’t let him in!”

“I’ll try not to, but I can’t be rude.”

“Yes, you can.” She grins impishly.

“I can, but I shouldn’t. Smarty-pants.”

I ruffle her hair as I pass and she smoothes it right back down. I fix my pleasant expression in place and open the door, but not fully.

“Ms. Independent,” he says, trying to be cute.

“Jason,” I respond mildly.

“Just letting you know I’m here to get the truck. Brought some gas to put in the tank. I’m pretty sure that’s the problem.” I say nothing because I’m aggravated. If it’s not the problem then his vehicle is going to be stuck here until he gets someone who knows what the hell they’re doing to come and fix it or pick it up. “I would’ve come sooner, but I had to wait on Jep to bring me. Jordan’s over at Cole’s, drinking. Don’t know how long she’s been over there. Maybe since yesterday.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Almost like it stopped completely for a few seconds while I digested his words. Jordan is at Cole’s? Drinking? Together? Since last night?

I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t have pegged Cole as much of a drinker. Then again, I thought he wasn’t interested in Jordan either. It appears that I was wrong on both counts.

Sickeningly wrong.

“Oh, uh, okay. Well, I just hope it starts.”

“Me, too. I don’t like being without a vehicle. I can’t bring my favorite girls soup.” His smile is so presumptuous I want to slap him. That might be a bit of a drastic overreaction, but I’m not in the mood for his audacity.

“We’re doing fine, but I’m sure you need it to get around.”

“I was thinking that if you and Emmy would like to, I’d–”

“Sorry, Jason, you’ll have to excuse me.” And I shut the door in his face.

Suddenly, his unwanted attention is just too much. On top of my rising distress over Cole and Jordan being together, and the swimmy feeling in my stomach, my patience is at an end.

Inexplicably, I feel near tears. I thought Cole and I had a connection, something real. Something that was as rare for him as it has been for me. But if he’s drinking and playing with Jordan, he’s not the man I thought he was.

And the disappointment is crushing.

I didn’t realize I had put so much hope, so much emotion into the brief and innocent run-ins I’ve had with Cole. I mean, why would I? Why am I so desperate to get to know him? Why him?

I’ve gone my whole life without the need–or really the desire–to have a man around. I’ve taken care of myself, taken care of Emmy. What is it about Cole that has changed all that? Why, all of a sudden, does it make me so happy to think of Emmy having his hands to help her build sandcastles on the beach? To hold her when she’s afraid, to comfort her when she has one of her nightmares? Why now? Why him?

I don’t know. I have no answers. No way of getting answers either. I only know that some part of me was hoping, wishing. Wanting. But it seems I’m better off without hoping, wishing and wanting.