Chapter 53

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

KAYCEE

40 bobas left until they both die …

“Hey.” Joules is shaking me awake. I come to, arms crossed over my chest, head leaned on a pillow that I stole from our last motel. I expect to see another gas station or a rest stop in the middle of Wherever-the-Hell, USA. Instead, there’s a house. Two stories. Dark blue. Black trim. Red front door. “We’re here.”

We did it. After three days of driving hell, cheap motels (chosen for anonymity’s sake), and hot fucks in uncomfortable beds, we’ve arrived.

The Frost Family abode.

I flip down the visor to check my makeup. Fortunately, I only use quality products, so nothing is smeared, nothing is smudged. I was rather impressed the other day when Joules grabbed my face while we were having sex and managed to smear his thumb through my eyeliner.

When I looked at myself in the mirror afterward, I had lipstick on my cheek, too. I looked like a woman who’d had a really, really good fucking time.

We couldn’t fly from Los Angeles to Arkansas. Too risky. If we flew commercial, I’d have to scan my ID at the airport—even celebrities aren’t immune to security checks. Using the Hype company jet is not an option for personal business. We thought about chartering a plane, but in the end, Joules and I just hopped in the car and drove home.

Home.

I like the idea of that, of having someplace that feels like the locus of your life, a comfortable spot you can return to again and again and again.

“Last chance to back out of this,” Joules says, working his jaw, like he’s pissed off about something. I think he’s mad at himself for lying to his family. He only has two extra days over his sister. By the end of next month, they could both be dead.

“Last chance?” I ask in such a dry tone that Joules turns to look at me. He presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and I look away. I’ve never been around someone like this, someone who makes me want to be naked nearly every minute of the day. “We just drove for three days straight, and you’re asking if I want to back out now? Grow up, Joules.” I climb out of the SUV, a smile curving my lips, and I stride right up to the front door.

I only knock once, and then I open it.

Because Joules told me his family never locks their door, and he was right. The door opens right up—huge surprise to somebody who grew up in LA—and I step into a small, tiled foyer with a staircase in front of me and a living room on my left.

The house smells like clothes warm from the dryer, cherries, and something powdery, like baking soda. I close my eyes and breathe it in.

“Joules?” a woman’s voice asks, and then I hear a strange sound. I open my eyes to find that same woman gaping at me, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Kaycee Quinn. Kaycee Quinn. Devon, get in here! It’s Kaycee fucking Quinn!”

“Would you stop that? Mom is in the backyard, and you’re cursing—” The second woman—Devon, I guess, which would be Joules’ mom—is just standing there and staring at me, eyes as wide as the other woman’s. “I’ll be damned. It is Kaycee fuckin’ Quinn.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s Kaycee fuckin’ Quinn,” Joules says, striding in beside me. I’m still struck by how big he is, how strong, so sure of himself. Confidence like that is addictive. I want to lick it off of him. I gravitate toward him. Standing as he is right now, stance cocky and relaxed, it seems impossible for someone like Joules Frost to die. “More importantly, Aunt Lisa, Mom, this is my girlfriend, KQ.”

“I promised I wouldn’t freak out, and I’m sorry,” his Aunt Lisa says, putting both hands over her mouth. “Of course. You’re here as Joules’ girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” She comes right up to me, and she hugs me.

I don’t even hesitate; I just hug her back. And when Joules’ mom approaches me, I hug her, too.

“Gram’s out back,” his mother tells him, and Joules nods, giving me a sideways glance that I can’t interpret. I assume it’s because that’s where his cousin’s grave is. Joules reaches down to take my hand, and he pulls me outside.

The backyard is huge, fenced off, and crowded by a forest just beyond the rear property line. It’s beautiful. I can hear birds, can smell the flowers in the garden beds, can hear someone nearby cutting grass.

Joules’ grandmother is in the garden, on a pink kneepad with a small shovel. She waves at him, and he waves back. And then his uncles come in the back gate along with his dad, and I’m suddenly just meeting everybody. There are people everywhere. Lots of Frosts.

And then the yard suddenly empties, and it’s just me and Joules again.

He scoffs and gives the house an odd look over his left shoulder.

“How many of those fuckers think I’m cursed? Did you see it? They suspect.”

“Just tell them the truth then,” I plead, but Joules ignores me. He turns instead to the tree at the back of the yard. Its branches are covered in heart-shaped green leaves, a few canary-yellow ones here and there.

“This is a redbud tree. Looks much nicer in early spring. Also, this is Joe.” Joules sits down hard on the grass in front of the tree, elbow on his knee, fingers buried in his hair. I squat down beside him and reach out a hand, brushing my knuckles down the stubble on his face. He told me this morning that he only forgets to shave when he’s stressed out. Poor Joules. “We’re here. Now what?” he asks, like he’s specifically asking me.

I think Joules is used to being in charge at all times. While he’s more than happy to do it in the bedroom, maybe he’s tired of having to be that person in everyday life? Seems like he’s been doing it for years, taking as much onto himself as he could to spare the feelings of others. Joules, damn it. Stop making me like you so much.

“I think we do what we talked about: let’s find your Match. Let’s break this curse, Joules. No matter what it costs. I want to do that for you.” Now, I’m still not sure that I believe the curse, but Joules does. I’m going to work with him to break it until it’s over. That’s all I can do. “You know where to find her or how to contact her?”

“If I go to her church, the curse will give me a meet-cute,” Joules whispers, still staring at the bark of the tree. “If I die, have my family add my dirt to Joe’s. We can grow this tree together.” He snorts and then reaches up to rub his face. Can he feel me glaring at him right now? He isn’t allowed to give up. “Alright, alright. We can relax until Sunday, and then we’ll do it. I’ll introduce you to my Match.”

Joules stands up suddenly, and then holds his hand out for me. When I reach for it, and he wraps his fingers around mine, I’m lost. He tugs me up and into him, wrapping his arms around me.

“Care to see my childhood bedroom?” Joules cocks a dark brow, and then leans in to whisper to me. “I’ll let you defile me in it.”

“Wait, I’m the one who has to do the defiling?” I tease, and he makes this low, hungry sound that probably isn’t appropriate in his parents’ backyard. He might be twenty-six years old, but a mom is a mom.

“Bring Kaycee in here and fix your girlfriend a plate. Dinner’s ready.” His mom pops her head out to yell, and then disappears.

“You live in, like, a made-for-TV-movie family or something,” I tease, wrinkling my nose. Joules scoffs a laugh and then taps a finger over his left wrist.

“A cursed made-for-TV-movie family,” he corrects, nodding his head in the direction of the house. “Come. Eat something. I’ll make you work it off later. If you ride me reverse cowgirl … hmm … what do you think, burns two-or-three hundred calories an hour?”

“Cute,” I reply, shouldering past him. But I do think he’s cute, and he knows it. That’s the problem.

By the time I get inside, Joules’ mom has fixed me a plate that has more calories on it than I’ve eaten in … forever. But I sit down dutifully beside Joules and his twice-as-full plate. I eat half, and then give the rest to him. He’s big, and fit, and has no problem finishing it for me.

We sit there with his arm thrown across the back of my chair, and I think there’s almost, almost, almost a moment where he tells his mom that he might die. But then his Aunt Lisa sighs strangely, gaze on the picture that’s hanging on the wall. The one with her dead son in it.

“Joe would’ve liked you, Kaycee,” Lisa tells me, but I already knew that because Joules has told me that several times. I think it’s important to him, to weigh his cousin’s opinion on things.

“Thank you,” I tell her, and then Joules loses that shine in his eyes that hints at the truth.

Instead, he turns a smoky gaze on me, and raises an eyebrow.

“Last chance for a hotel,” he mouths, and his mother throws a dish towel at him.

“Until the curse is broken, stay here.” His mom hesitates, and Joules goes white-knuckled with panic, like he thinks she’s figured it out on her own. “I’m so worried about Lake that I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Joules says suddenly, too quickly. He rubs a hand over his face again. “I’m worried about Lake, too.”

We get up a few minutes later, and Joules leads me by the hand. Up the stairs. Into his room. He shoves the door closed behind me, and then pins me to it.

If he’s going to pursue his Match … we might not get too many more nights of this.

I already feel myself mourning Joules.

I already know that my bodyguard, Wrenlee, was right.

Choosing Joules was choosing to pursue pain.

I don’t have to say a word, and Joules knows exactly what I want.

He turns the TV on with a remote that he fumbles off the dresser, still kissing me. Turns the volume up. Throws me down on the bed, and covers me with his body.

Fucks me like a wraith, like something wild and otherworldly.

Like somebody with nothing left to lose.

35 bobas left until they both die … and only 37 bobas left until Joules dies …

“This is it?” I ask, parked on a quiet, little side street outside of a white church with yellow flowers in the window boxes.

“This is the place,” Joules breathes, sitting in the passenger seat entirely against his will. I insisted on driving, even had to bite him once on the neck to get him to agree. “She’s here three or four days a week. Church service on Sundays and Wednesdays. Runs a book club on Thursdays. Volunteers at the daycare on Saturday while her husband is at home with their three kids.”

Wow. This woman doesn’t sound like Joules’ type at all. Maybe I’m biased because I like him so much, and I want him to be mine, but … how is this even fair? Sure, Tam Eyre was a tough sell for Lakelynn, but at least they’re compatible people. Joules’ Match is the exact opposite of a man who fucks like an angry spirit. I shift in my seat and Joules notices, wetting his lips and cursing me under his breath.

This is not what we’re supposed to be doing.

We’re supposed to be checking out his Match. So he can fall in love with her. So he can break the curse.

I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, if that means we’re done forever. If … he might come back to me after the curse is gone. Doesn’t matter. Just so long as he lives. Saving Joules is my only priority right now. I keep turning down offers from my publicist because I’d rather be here.

Little side street. White church. A woman with flaxen hair in a white coat and jeans, a white beanie on her head, holding the hands of two little kids and laughing. She’s laughing. She’s gorgeous.

“Fuck me,” Joules moans, scraping his fingers through his hair.

“Happily. Later. Get out of the car.” I poke him with my bare toe. I kicked my heels off to drive his mother’s SUV over here. I didn’t even bother with a disguise. Nobody knows where I am right now, so nobody will expect to see me here. I doubt I’ll have any problems. I feel like Tam has it worse than I do.

Joules opens the car door and climbs out, pushing it shut with his gaze locked on the blond woman.

He looks like he wants to run away from her instead of toward her, but he catches up in time to open the church door for her. Seems like her husband and other kid are somewhere else.

Is this the meet-cute?

God, this curse is gross. It’s so awful. What a terrible, terrible thing to do to such a nice family. I’d kill to know what happened with their relative that rippled pain so far past its originally intended audience. Or hell, isn’t it possible that their ancestor did nothing at all, and was still cursed? Who knows?

Joules disappears inside the church.

I sit there for all of three minutes until I’m scrambling to put my heels on, speedwalking my way down the sidewalk and slipping inside. The room is filled with low-level chatter, a few heads turning to take me in. The ones who do look seem a little confused by my presence—maybe it’s my outfit?—but they turn back to the front and don’t bother me.

I can see Joules sitting three rows away from the front, left side, in the final spot on the pew. His Match is on his left with her kids on the other side.

Huh.

She sat with him right off the bat?

Before the service can start, a man comes in holding a toddler in diapers. He walks up to the row where Joules is sitting. They have a mild conversation, and the man ends up stepping past Joules to sit on the other side of his wife and kids.

Yep.

‘Cause that’s the husband.

I watch them for the duration of the service, and then I meet up with Joules on his way out. He probably shouldn’t be seen with me, but he can pretend that I’m his sister or something.

“How was it?” I ask once we’ve climbed into the SUV and shut the doors.

Joules just stares out the windshield.

“I got invited to a potluck. A fucking potluck. My Match—her name is Allison—invited me to a potluck. Sorry, Allison and her husband invited me to a potluck.” Joules slumps back in his seat, elbow on the door, face in his hand. “This so beyond insane. And I thought Marla was bad? I complained about Marla? Posthumously, I am so goddamn sorry, Marla.”

“You’re going to the potluck, right?” I ask, but Joules just nods, face still in his hand.

“I’ll go and see if a platonic curse break is possible.”

“It’s a two-percent chance,” I tell him, voice cracking. He’s the one who told me that. Out of all his relatives—thousands of confirmed records—only two percent of the Frost family was able to break the curse without romance and sex. Two percent.

“So it is.” Joules doesn’t say another word.

When we get back to his parents’ place, I make up an excuse about being tired and wanting a nap. Then I sneak out the front door and steal the SUV. I doubt Joules will notice. He was in the backyard helping his mom and grandma weed the garden.

In all the research that Joules has on his Match, there’s an address.

I get some cash on the way, and I park across the street. I’m not even going to wait for the husband to leave. I’m just going to walk right up to the door and knock. I’ll ask to speak with him outside. The chances of him not knowing who I am are slim. I’m sure he’ll come.

Then I’ll offer him five-million dollars to divorce his wife. I can afford to spend that much cash. That’s how well my career is going. Where’s the harm? If he refuses, then he genuinely loves his wife. If he accepts, then she’s better off without him.

I don’t want Joules to die.

I’m not proud of why I’m here or what I’m going to do, but I have to do it. When you care about someone, you’ll do unspeakable things under the banner of love. Whatever it takes, really. Anything. Even this. I don’t mind playing the part of the villainess if it means Joules can live.

I climb out of the car and start across the street, the money tucked into my jacket. Footsteps sound behind me, and I whirl sharply. I should’ve brought Wrenlee with me, I realize with a start. But I wanted to be alone with Joules, so I told her to stay in Los Angeles. It felt like with Joules around, I wouldn’t need another bodyguard.

My boyfriend is my bodyguard. Is that a pop star cliché or what?

“It’s just me,” Joules says as the panic surges, and then cuts off abruptly when I register that it truly is him behind me. His fingers are wrapped around my wrist, and I realize that I’d lifted my arm to punch him in the face. Joules scowls. “If I were an attacker, what were you planning to do to me?” He releases my arm with a huff. “What are you doing here?”

“You followed me to the ATM and then to here before confronting me?” I ask. Damn. What if he’d actually been a fan or a stalker or something? I rely on luck a little too much, don’t I? “Joules, I …” I make myself breathe.

Joules reaches out with two fingers, flicks my leather jacket open.

My breath catches as he trails his fingertips from my clavicle, down my side, right to my pocket. He withdraws the envelope and holds it up for me to look at. His expression is wry, devilish but not displeased.

“Were you trying to pay Allison’s husband off? With this?”

“I was going to offer him a contract for five million—just to divorce her. That’s it.” I cross my arms and shrug, but I might also be blushing just a little. He probably can’t see it through my foundation, so it’s fine. This is my own brand-name stuff. Persephone’s Court by Kaycee Quinn, an homage to my fan club. You’re spiraling girl, relax.

“No.” He tucks the cash back into my pocket. “That’s not the kind of man that my family raised me to be.” He rubs at his jaw, freshly shaved. That’s a good sign. So, he must’ve done that before going into the backyard to help his mom. Or … he wasn’t helping his mom, was he? He was spying on me because he thought I might do something like this. “But I like that you’re willing to play dirty for me.”

“I’ll do anything to keep you alive, Joules.” I sigh, still standing in the middle of a street that’s so quiet, not a single person has driven down it while we’ve been standing here.

“You think I’m worried because I’m not sure if I can get Allison to fall in love with me?” Joules laughs at me, ruffling up his hair. “Kaycee, it’s because I know for sure that I can’t fall in love with her.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Joules,” I whisper, and it hits me that I like him so much that I’ve just started assuming that he’s right. He is going to die on August twenty-sixth, which is just over a month away.

“It’s you that I’m in love with. I can’t fall in love with Allison.” Joules steps forward and puts his hands on either side of my face, looking down at me with a small, sad smile. It’s not that he’s given up, it’s just that he knows. Joules is smart, shrewd, and arrogant, but even he can see that this isn’t happening. “So, do we waste our time trying to break the curse platonically? Two percent chance? With only five weeks?” Joules presses his mouth down against mine, hot and hard. A flick of tongue. Then he whispers against my lips. “Hang out with me, Kaycee. Just be with me.”

I throw my arms around him, and he holds me there in the middle of the street until Allison comes out to check on us.

She jogs over, pretty blond hair bouncing in the late afternoon sunshine. She puts her hand on my shoulder and leans down to peer into my face, genuinely concerned for my well-being. I feel awful. I feel like a piece of shit. But I’d still screw you over if it were possible to save him.

“Are you okay?” she asks me gently, like she thinks maybe I came here because I saw her at church. “Do you need me to make a phone call for you, Kaycee Quinn?”

“Kaycee—” Oh. Shit. She knows who I am. Of course she does.

“I’m the team leader for Miss Quinn’s personal security,” Joule says, and then he smirks and crosses his arms. “I’m also her boyfriend.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Allison asks, glancing over her shoulder at her husband. He nods, like he’s got her back, and I wonder if Joules never had a chance in the first place. He likes me, but maybe Allison genuinely likes her husband in the same way.

“I’m fine. I just … what a weird coincidence. Joules’ family lives just around the corner.” I smile at Allison and then I turn away from her before we get any further into the conversation. I grab Joules by the arm and drag him away, and he lets me.

Only, when I open the passenger door for him, he grabs me around the hips and lifts me into it.

“Sit,” he tells me with a raised brow. Joules shuts the door, climbs in the driver’s side, and off we go. He doesn’t even glance at Allison in the rearview mirror.

A sickening sort of panic sets in then.

Because Joules is done with Allison. He’s done because he saw something in himself today that makes it impossible. Me. I should have trusted my initial instincts and stayed away from Joules Frost in the beginning. Only … it’s too late now.

“Let’s go get some boba,” he says, exhaling, and I glance his way.

“You like it as much as your sister, don’t you?” I tease, voice breathy with the sense of impending loss. Soon, very soon, Joules is going to die. I have to accept that. While he’s still here with me for five more weeks, I have to come to terms with the idea.

“It was more Joe’s thing. One time, Lake just blurted out that bubble tea was happiness in a cup, and Joe ran with it. Whenever she cried, he bought her a boba. If she hurt herself, he bought her a boba. Always. So, it’s a Joe and me and Lakelynn thing, I guess. Because whatever one of us did, we all did.”

“Lakelynn will break the curse,” I tell him, but Joules remains tense, eyes on the road but mind somewhere else entirely.

“Maybe,” Joules replies, and the reality of the true sorrow in his voice, that memory, is going to break me into pieces after he’s gone. For now, I manage to hold myself together.

However much time, we’re going to make every second worth it. I reach out for his hand, and he wraps his fingers around mine, just squeezing.

I don’t shed a single tear until I’m alone in the shower.