Chase leaned in as she continued. “You’ve made quite the impression, Miss Brent.”
“I tend to do that. Question is whether the impression is good or bad.”
“Oh, I think it’s good. The girls have been stalking you on social for weeks.”
“I mean, it’s not like we’ve never met.”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d like to think we’re not who we were back then.”
The statement had layers of meaning. I almost thought I heard an apology somewhere in there.
“No, I guess we aren’t. I hope you’re not planning to push me off a swing again—it’s been a long time since I’ve had a skinned knee, and the thought intimidates me a little,” I joked.
But he didn’t smile. “I think about that more than I should.”
I sat back, pretending to assess him. “You mean Chase Patton is a human being with a heart and everything?”
“Hard to believe, I know.” For a second, he just watched me. “My dad would love nothing more than to keep the feud going, even if it meant manipulating a fourth grader into doing something cruel.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him, unsure what else to say.
“It’s not, but I appreciate you saying so.” Another pause. “Let me take you on a date.”
“Chase—”
“I think I owe you for what a shit I was to you. Let me start with dinner.”
“So the whole town can whisper about us being seen together?” I asked lightly. “So I can take a hammer to the fragile peace Jake and I have going? Chase, you know this can’t happen. Right? A Patton and a Brent, even being seen like this”—I motioned to us—“makes me feel like I’ve broken something.”
He nodded. “You’ve got too much to lose.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I have a proposal. How about you and me come up with a way to end the feud once and for all?”
It was impossible not to laugh. “Should we sacrifice a goat?”
“Sounds messy. I was thinking more along the lines of working together.”
My smile slid off my face and into my lap. “The goat would be more effective.”
“I’m serious,” he said on a chuckle. “Maybe we could come up with a joint product or something. A special ice cream flavor called Peace Treaty—vanilla cream mixed with candy treats, like Nerds—or Handshake … make it chocolate malted maybe.”
“Sounds like a milkshake made out of hands.”
“That’s disgusting, and we should work together.”
A genuine laugh slipped out of me. “Being seen in public with you is too much for my place in the farm, but working together would be easy peasy? I think they’d rather see me sharing a banana split with you than sign on with the Pattons. No, scratch that. They’d string me up for both.”
He sighed. “Think about it. There has to be a way, and when we figure it out, we’re sharing that banana split in front of the whole town.”
“All that just to get me to go on a date with you? I knew you liked to win, but I think I underestimated the lengths you’d go to,” I teased.
Chase leaned in a little closer, flashing that billboard smile of his. “That’ll be the last time you make that mistake.”
His thumb stroked the back of my shoulder, and I sat back in my seat, tuning back into the conversation just as Kendall wrapped up her story about her little boy pooping in the tub and her calling to Jared, Honey, get the slotted spoon!
I listened and laughed and luxuriated in the normality of a night out, but all the while, my mind chewed on Chase and his hand that never left the back of my chair. He had to have some sort of angle, didn’t he? Not that it mattered—working together wasn’t an option, and dinner was even less likely. If I ended up in bed with Patton, four generations of Brents would roll over in their graves. My ghost would be ostracized. I’d be left to haunt the barn and the goats. And Jake, if I could manage it.
I would haunt the hell out of Jake.
I thought of him again, sitting in his house alone. If he’d just let me be his friend, everything would be better, easier. Maybe he could even teach me how to knit.
But only if he did it shirtless.
12
Kevin
JAKE
Are you still watching?
I scowled at Netflix, pointing the remote at the TV to answer, Yes, asshole.
It was after midnight as another episode of Parks and Rec started. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d intentionally been up this late. My mouth stretched into a yawn at the thought, and I blinked at the television screen, only half-listening as Leslie Knope told us about the upcoming Most Li’l Sebastian Harvest Festival Ever.
The rest of me was listening for Olivia’s return.
My brain had been chewing since I’d heard the truck fire up. Unaccustomed to hearing the sound after dark, I’d checked to see what was what and watched her drive off, leaving me wondering where the hell she’d gone. Given that Presley had been here today made it safe to assume they’d gone somewhere together—Joe’s probably. But I didn’t know who all she’d met running around town, looking for fare to sell in the store. Maybe she’d bumped into Chase. Maybe he’d asked her out. Maybe they were on a date. Wouldn’t surprise me if a degenerate like Chase didn’t pick a girl up at her door, and with Olivia being a city girl, she probably wouldn’t think twice.
If she’d gone out with Chase Fucking Patton, the throwdown we’d have about it would be a barn burner.
Bad enough she’d put a picture of me on social, even if it was a good one. When Kit had shown me how many people had liked and commented on it, I’d mostly been embarrassed, which made me madder than her posting it in the first place. Even the fucking goats weren’t the worst thing, only that she’d gone around me. It made me feel better to know I’d get to watch her try to wrangle a trip of goats, and they’d be a good addition to her stupid petting zoo whether I liked it or not.
But nothing would forgive her and Chase together in any context.
I’d been squirrely since she’d left hours ago. The roads were pitch black this time of night with a new moon, no streetlights to speak of, and plenty of deer and raccoons were making tracks from one patch of forest to another. She wasn’t prepared to drive on a night like tonight. One rogue animal, and she could end up swan diving off a cliff in Pop’s truck.
I clicked back through my mind to figure out the last time Pop had the brakes serviced and couldn’t remember.
Shifting in my seat, my face managed to both tighten and frown. I checked the clock. 12:02.
“This is ridiculous,” I said to myself in a huff, turning off the TV.
The room was thrown into darkness. I stood, knowing my way around well enough to navigate blindfolded, chastising myself.
“You’re not her fucking mother,” I grumbled, unbuttoning my shirt on my way to the bathroom. I flicked on the light, flinched from the shock of light, reached for my toothbrush. Scowled at myself as I scrubbed my teeth.
What do you care where she is? She’s probably drinking beer and playing Patsy Cline on the jukebox. Bet Chase is there. Bet he asked her to dance, that crooked, conniving son of a bitch.