1. Jett
1
JETT
“ H ave a good day!” Rowan says as she waves to one of the regulars here at Gracie May’s Diner.
It’s ridiculous, but my gut twists up with jealousy when she smiles at the old man. She should be smiling at me , goddamnit.
Stop it , I chastise myself, taking another sip of my coffee. I focus on the warm, bitter liquid, trying to shove my possessive thoughts down. The thing is, for every one thought I suppress, five more pop up.
I finish my coffee and set the mug down with a thud. Rowan snaps her head in my direction, and try as I might, I can’t look away. It’s those eyes. Deep violet with a magical golden sparkle. I swear I can feel her gaze coursing through my veins the longer I stare at her.
She makes her way over to my booth, her generous hips swaying hypnotically. Not that I’m looking or anything. Damn it.
“Time for another refill?” the angel with purple eyes asks. Her midnight black hair is twisted into a bun resting at the nape of her neck. I get the urge to unclasp the pin holding it all together so I can watch her river of hair fall around her back and shoulders. Then, I’d wrap it around my fist, tilt her head back, and…
My phone rings, startling both of us. I look at the screen, my heart torn between talking to Rowan or catching up with my little sister.
“I’ll let you answer that,” Rowan says, making the decision for me.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, really, but as usual, no words come out. I’ve been at the diner every day since Rowan started working last week, but I can hardly muster up the brain cells to put two words together. I nod, and the goddess rewards me with a smile. A real one. I can tell because her entire face lights up, making her uniquely colored eyes shine like precious gems.
Who the fuck am I right now? Waxing poetic about a woman’s eyes?
My phone rings again, and this time, I answer it. “Fiona,” I greet my sister.
“Jett,” she says in her best impression of my growly voice. The corner of my lip ticks up at my sister’s antics. We’ve been through hell and back, yet she’s resilient, kind, and funny as hell. Can’t say the same about myself.
“How’s school? Are you sure you’re able to focus on classes while working? I can send you more money–”
“I’m fine, Jett,” she answers with a sigh. “Stop worrying about me so much.”
“Not gonna happen,” I grunt.
Fiona just laughs dismissively.
Am I protective of my little sister? Hell yeah, I am. The world is a cruel place and I almost lost myself in the chaos of it all when I moved away at seventeen. Stealing, partying, drinking myself into a stupor almost every night; anything to numb me from the pain of existence.
Until thirteen years ago when one phone call changed everything. Suddenly, I was the legal guardian of my eight-year-old sister. Technically, half-sister, but that shit doesn’t matter. Fiona and I are family.
“What about the club drama? Last time we talked, you said Domino found a clubhouse for you guys?”
“He sure did. He went and found himself a woman, too,” I say for some reason.
“Oh, really?! ” Why did I offer that information? She’s never going to drop it now. “Tell me literally everything.”
I can just picture Fiona grabbing her favorite stuffed frog, Mr. Ribbet, and flopping down on the bed, waiting for me to gossip with her. Not that I gossip. I just share stories from my week and she does the same. We grew up in the tiny town of Sweetheart Falls, where she still lives. I moved a few hours away to Texas when my sister started college a few years ago, so this is the only way I can keep up with everything around town.
“Her name is Calista,” I start.
“OMG, love that. Calista? Beautiful. Is she a biker, too? Or did he convert her or whatever?”
I shake my head at her questions. “We’re not a cult. We don’t convert people,” I tell her with a hint of amusement in my voice. “But, no, Calista isn’t a biker. She’s a real estate agent.”
“Adorable! Tell me she’s the real estate agent who sold Domino the clubhouse.”
“Yup,” I confirm. My sister squeals over the phone.
"That is too cute. Like romance novel kind of cute."
“Mmhm,” is all I say. I don’t know anything about love, relationships, romance, or novels, for that matter. “Whatever you say.”
“When are you going to find someone?”
“Wow, you didn’t waste any time jumping right in, did you?”
Even though I can’t see her, I know Fiona is rolling her eyes at me. “Jett, it’s time . You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“Thank god for that,” I mutter.
Fiona laughs, then grows serious. “I love you, Jett. I just want you to be happy. You sacrificed a lot to come back and raise me, and now it’s your turn to have a life.”
My gaze sweeps across the diner until I find Rowan. She's behind the register, wiping down the machine while humming softly to herself. I can barely hear it, but it's a sad tune. She looks far too weary for how young she is - early twenties if I had to guess. I want to know her story and every single thing about her, but I can't. I shouldn't. Plus, I can't seem to get my mouth and brain to work at the same time whenever she's around.
“I have a life,” I answer after a moment of silence. “The club, my brothers, and my annoying little sister are about all I can handle.”
“Annoying? Me?” Fiona gasps dramatically. “I’ll let that slide, but only because I know you know I’m right.”
I grumble incoherently and wipe a hand down my face. “I don’t pressure you to go off and date people,” I finally respond.
“Would you like me to detail my dating life?”
“Nope. No, no thank you. Never mind.”
“Cuz there’s this one guy in my physics class…”
“La-la-la-la-la I can’t hear you,” I repeat until she erupts in a fit of giggles.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she assures me. “Boys are gross. They all have cooties and you’ll beat them up if they look at me the wrong way.”
“Exactly. I’m glad something I taught you stuck.”
Fiona laughs again, making my heart a little lighter. I love my sister and I want her to have everything she’s ever wanted. Everything I do, all the money I make, it’s all for her.
Looking back at Rowan, I sense a monumental shift deep in my chest. Maybe my sister is right. Maybe I need to find another reason to keep going. Maybe I’m ready for one more person in my life.
Or maybe I’m delusional.
“I gotta go to class,” Fiona says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Love you, Jett. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
I chuckle. “Bye, Fifi.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that,” she hisses.
“I have to give you some shit every now and then,” I tell her with a smirk.
We hang up, and my attention is once again drawn to Rowan. Her porcelain skin, round cheeks, and button nose are almost too much for me to take in. She’s delicate and precious - the exact opposite of me.
My eyes follow the motion of her hand as she tucks a few strands of her dark hair behind her ear. Rowan inhales deeply, closing her eyes and tilting her head down as she exhales. Her shoulders drop along with the cheerful mask she's always wearing. For this brief second, Rowan allows the fear and anxiety to overwhelm her. I can fucking feel it suffocating her, the rough waters dragging her down and pulling her further and further from shore. I want nothing more than to be the one to swim out and save her.
The bell above the door rings, alerting Rowan to a new customer. I watch as she forces herself above the surface of the emotion she’s drowning in, taking another breath and slipping on her mask.
What are you hiding beneath that smile? Where did you come from? How can I protect you?
All questions I can’t seem to bring myself to ask.
I slip a fifty-dollar bill out of my wallet and leave it on the table as a tip, just like I've done every other day this week. I can't seem to say anything with my words, so providing Rowan with some decent tip money will have to do.
It’s for the best. I don’t need a woman.
Keep telling yourself that , my unhelpful brain adds. I walk out of the diner and swing my leg over my bike. A long ride out in hill country sounds like just what I need to clear my mind.