After passing the community park for the third time, he decided to pull in and take a closer look. It looked well-tended—of course, it did!—with freshly cut grass, a baseball field, a playground, and an Olympic-sized pool. A sign at the entrance showed a series of walking paths in and among the stately pines, maples, and oaks.
Campbell’s Junction had a place like it but rougher around the edges. It was where the town came together for the Founders’ Day picnic and watched fireworks on the Fourth. Also where he and his friends would drink beer and smoke weed after high school football games before sneaking off to have sloppy, awkward teenage sex.
Jaxson smiled at the memory. Things had been so much simpler then.
The darkness of the pines called to him. He parked his bike and walked along the trail, finally settling at a picnic table. He sat down on the bench seat and stretched out his wonky leg, then leaned back on the table with his elbows and took in the space around him.
The air was cool, and the place was empty, except for the occasional group of teenagers slipping deeper into the woods. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of earth and pine and honeysuckle, watching the shadows move around him. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Something larger, maybe a possum, ambled by.
After several minutes of quiet observance, something changed. It started as a vague awareness that he was no longer alone. Jaxson sat up and scanned the area, his eyes now completely adjusted to the darkness. Off to the right, a lone figure wandered around, a dark smudge moving against other dark smudges.
He knew those curves. Knew that stride.
Apparently, dinner was over.
He watched in silence as she sank down on a merry go round and began to spin.
The sweet smell of weed drifted out from the woods. Jaxson could hear the low sounds of laughter from the trio of teen boys who’d headed that way earlier. He didn’t like the idea of Penny being out here alone at night. They probably weren’t bad kids, but what if they were?
Jaxson got up and quietly moved to a table, closer to the edge of the trees, just in case.
Her voice was barely audible over the symphony of harmonizing chirps. Was she talking to herself or on the phone with someone?
He listened, curious. He couldn’t make out her soft mumblings, but he understood the tone well enough. It was nothing like the upbeat cheeriness he’d seen so far.
He wasn’t going to go to her. He wasn’t. And yet he found his feet taking him closer, as if drawn by some invisible magnet. She remained unaware of his presence, and it pissed him off. He could be anyone, with thoughts of doing anything.
“If you’re listening and you’re not too busy, I could use some guidance,” he heard her say.
Seconds passed by in silence.
Then, she pulled herself to sitting and exhaled heavily. “Good talk. Guess I have to figure this one out on my own, huh?”
“Well, that depends on what it is you’re trying to figure out,” he answered from less than a yard away.
Startled, she whipped around so quick that she banged her head on the metal bar. He winced in sympathy.
“Jaxson? Is that you? You really need to stop sneaking up on me like that. What are you doing, skulking around in the park at night?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Dinner didn’t go well?”
“Dinner went fine,” she said, her voice unusually flat. “Why do you care anyway?”
He eased down onto the merry go round, stalling. It was a valid question, one he wasn’t sure he had an answer to. At least, not one he was willing to accept.
“I need to apologize. For before, I mean. In my room.”
She waved her hand. “Not necessary.”
“I think it is. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Even in the pale moonlight, he could see her small smile.
“You totally should have. You did me a favor actually.”
“How’s that?”
“You proved I’m not crazy.”
He had no idea what she meant by that, but before he could ask, she asked him a question first. “Did you walk here or bring your bike?”
“I rode.”
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.”
“Never?”
She shook her head. “I’ve always wanted to though. Sandy Summers’s brother, Trace, had one. He promised he’d give me a ride one day, but ...”
“But ...” he prompted.
“But he died before he did.” She was quiet for a moment, and then she chuckled softly and said, “I had such a crush on him. He was older, and he never knew. Then, he went into the Army, like you. He was such a good guy, you know? Always doing things for others. But when he came back, he’d changed.”
Jaxson thought about some of the things he’d seen. Some of the things he’d done. He wasn’t the same man he’d been either. “It happens.”
She nodded.
She looked so sad. He stopped thinking about what he should do—namely, get up and walk away—and instead went in the opposite direction.
“Do you still want a ride?”
He continued staring off into the distance, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift. Felt her big brown eyes on him.
“Is that a trick question?”
Despite himself, he smiled. “No.”
“Then, yes. Yes, I would very much like a ride.”
It was wrong. Wrong on so many levels.
Yet he found himself getting to his feet and offering her his hand. “Then, let’s do it.”
She made a sound, almost like a breathy squeak, and put her hand in his. A pulse of energy shot up his arm from the point of contact and traveled to somewhere in his chest.
They walked to the lot. He mounted the bike, and then he instructed her to get on behind him and hold on. He swore that for the rest of his life, he would remember how she looked in that moment. The pure joy and anticipation in her eyes.
He took it slow and easy, refusing to accept just how good it was to feel her arms wrapped around his waist or her heat at his back. For the next hour, he didn’t feel the pain in his leg or hips or back.
Eventually, he took her back to her place. It was late, so he cut the engine and drifted the final block or two. She dismounted; he didn’t.
“Thank you! That was the second-best thing I’ve ever done,” she said breathlessly.
“What was the first?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Letting you kiss me,” she said simply.
Shit. “Penny ...”
She put up her hand to stop him. “No, don’t ruin it by stating the obvious. I know. Good night, Jaxson.”
She walked down her driveway toward the detached garage, where a set of external stairs led to a second story. She turned around, and with one last wave, she began to climb.
He waited until she went inside.
Jaxson shook his head, rolled his bike down the street, and went back to Mel’s.
Maybe it was because he was deep in thought. Maybe it was because Penny had him tied up in knots. But he didn’t see the attack coming until he felt the heavy blow on the back of his head.
Chapter Nineteen
Penny
For the second time that day, Penny felt as if she were walking among the clouds. This time, it wasn’t because of a kiss; it was because of the heady experience of being pressed snuggly up against Jaxson while riding a motorcycle under the moonlight.