5. Jones

CHAPTER 5

Jones

U sing work as a reprieve is the best option. But even still, my brain is a fucked-up mother-effer. It just keeps spiraling with all things Mia. Our past relationship, the events surrounding her leaving eight years ago, her words this morning when I dropped her off.

She couldn't even stand to look at me.

How messed up is that?

And how do we move past something like that?

We can't.

Not that I thought there was a chance of us getting back together. But did I think we might at least hook up? Ya know, for old times' sake. I guess I did.

But knowing there's not even a possibility of that? Has me so messed up.

I work behind the bar through the evening rush, mixing drinks, and filling pints of beer, all while getting slammed with questions and pinned with dirty looks. There's no mercy either. No off-limits question. The locals act like my personal life is theirs. But it's not fair game. I'm a private person.

And I can forget about getting laid anytime soon. These women are ferocious. Their nasty looks and comments inform me I'm an immature player without a heart—and that's putting it mildly.

The guys on the other hand are a bit more understanding. I'm not asking for support or sympathy. All I really want is for everyone to leave me the hell alone so I can get back to my normal life.

There's a hot redhead at the end of the bar. Adorable freckles across her nose and dressed in a black cropped tee giving me a good look at an inscription tattoo across her ribs. But as soon as I catch her attention, she rolls her eyes and turns her back to the counter.

Shit.

As the night continues like this, the loneliness creeps in. It would help if Maverick were here, but he's spending time with Cammie tonight since last night she was hanging out with the girls. I'd give him a hard time and call him pussy-whipped if it were any other woman than my little sister. But she makes him happy and vice versa.

"Hey, son," my dad greets, surprising me.

He doesn't come to The Pines often. He prefers drinking cheap beer straight from a can while sitting in a lounge chair on his patio that overlooks Main Street. But he's my dad and I'm co-owner of The Pines so he always drinks for free.

I don't even have to ask what he wants. Grabbing a cold can of Coors from the bar's fridge, I toss it to him. He catches it one-handed, much like he did in his glory days when he used to play as a goalie in his high school hockey days. And again, in the beer league as an adult. He only quit playing when he took over the hardware store from Granddad.

"Old man's still got it," I tease.

"Just who are you calling old," he retorts, one graying brow lifted.

"Sorry, I didn't make it by earlier, I got busy," I'm only half-lying.

My old truck needs some repairs. Everyone's been telling me to buy a new truck. It's not like I can't afford it. But I've put my blood, sweat, and tears into this truck. Besides, something is comforting in the familiarity of it. I know all the finicky things about it. There's no learning new bells and whistles.

"Busy sneaking your lady friend out of your place this morning, you mean?"

Shit.

My gut tightens. Cause now I don't know how much Dad knows. About me and Mia and what happened all those years ago. Part of me is jealous Mia got to tell her parents but I didn't tell mine. And now, Mom will never know.

"Don't look so surprised," he says with a grunt. "Maple Ridge is a small town. And it's not like you were trying to hide it."

"More like, you were spying on everyone from your patio," I quip.

"Son, you paraded her right through the front door this morning."

"Paraded is stretching it, Dad," I scoff.

He raises both brows.

"I didn't have a choice," I say, giving in. "My truck was parked on the street. Besides, nothing happened between us."

"Wait, I think I've heard this lie before," he teases, taking a pull from his beer.

"Yeah, shut that pie-hole and drink your free beer," I say.

"All jokes aside, I'm worried about you, son."

His expression shifts to serious and it does something to my heart in my chest.

"I'm fine." Now I am lying.

And I don't know why I bother because he can see right through my BS.

"We are talking about Mia here, right? The same girl you were madly in love with? The same one who left eight years ago without a word? The same girl who turned you into a man-whore?"

"Yep," I draw out, following it with a deep sigh. One of those sighs where you know you're about to spill your guts and there's no turning back. "And did you hear the best part?" I don't wait for him to answer. "Since Frank had the stroke, she and I get to co-host Bikes and Beers together."

Dad grimaces.

"Yeah. So much for avoiding her this summer."

I serve a few pints to some customers. When I come back over to Dad, his brow is furrowed, and he looks deep in thought.

"What is it?" I ask because I know him, and I know he's got something to say. He's always got something to say. The man just isn't wired to keep his fucking mouth shut and not give his opinion.

"Son, you may not want to hear this, but you ever think that maybe you want to spend time with her this summer?"

Of course, I've thought of that. And of course, I want to spend time with her. But that doesn't mean we should.

"Yeah, Dad, I have. But we both know it's for the best if we don't."

"Why?"

"Because, Dad, just…because."

"You ever think that maybe things happen for a reason and that reason would be you two getting back together?"

"No," I bite out. All his pestering is beginning to piss me off.

"Why?"

"Because. There's too much history. Too much crap. It would never work."

"Tell me why, son?"

"Because of the baby," I finally blurt.

He rears back like I've just swung a punch at him and missed.

A customer interrupts us with their order of a Whiskey Sour. I mix her drink while keeping an eye on Dad. When I return my attention to our conversation, Dad looks misty-eyed and like he's out of questions.

"That's why Mia left eight years ago, we got pregnant. But then we lost the baby. A little girl. We named her Aster, after the flowers in the fields near the mountain." I unload it all. And despite the golf ball-sized lump in my throat, it feels good to let it out. Especially to him.

"Your tattoo," he finally says.

I nod.

"Darn it, Jones, why didn't you tell us?" he barks.

I know by us , he's referring to him and Mom. Because she was still alive then. And now losing the baby feels like a lifetime ago. A time when Mom was still here.

"I don't know. Everything happened so fast. At first, we were busy planning a life together and deciding how to tell everyone. Then the baby was…gone," my voice cracks and I swallow. "And so was Mia."

"I'm so sorry, son. I wish I could've been here for you."

"I know," I say with a nod.

"Now things make sense."

I frown. "What do ya mean?"

"How you were after she left. How you've been. With women."

I glance down, feeling a little ashamed. "Yeah."

A large group of young guys shoulder their way through the crowd and toward the bar.

"Excuse me, bartender?" one calls.

I hold up a finger. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

I turn back to Dad. "I gotta get back to work. But can we talk more later? Tomorrow? I'll bring enough beer to stock your garage fridge."

"Now you've got yourself a date." Dad chugs what's left of his beer and gives me a wink before slipping off the barstool.

I spend the rest of the night catering to my customers but with a less heavy load on my shoulders. I never knew just how good I'd feel after telling Dad.

Maverick

Cammie and I are going hiking in the morning. Want to tag along?

Me

Well when you put it that way.

Hell no.

Cammie

Come hiking with us, big bro. Rosie and Nico are coming too.

You shouldn't be alone.

Me

Maybe I won't be alone.

Cammie

Eww gross. Not something your sister wants to hear.

Me

Then maybe you shouldn't assume things.

It does something short of killing me to learn it's still too painful for Mia to look at me. It's no wonder she left. How would I have expected her to stay with me, or even here in Maple Ridge?

Our lives were so intertwined. Even now, she's only been back a few days and she's already hanging out with Rosie and my sister. She can't even get a drink in a bar without bumping into me because I own the only bar in town.

Unless you count the sorry excuse for a bar inside the hotel. They don't open until noon, and they close by ten p.m. If it wasn't for The Pines, God forbid someone finds themselves in need of a drink after ten p.m. because you'd be shit out of luck.

This is why I shouldn't be surprised when I find her sitting at the peek of her favorite hiking trail with a bar in her hand. Her dark hair is swept back, the wind doing some of the work, and her skin glistens with sweat on her bare legs. She's still as breathtaking as I remember. Especially seeing her here in her element, in her favorite place.

If I had a quarter for every time we fucked here?—

A branch cracks underneath my footing and she whips her head around, two eyes as round as dinner plates. Big, green, and captivating.

"Shit, Jones, you scared me."

She groans and turns back around to face the valley below and the mountains spanning the horizon. I often forget how beautiful this view is. I don't make this hike much anymore. Only on the days when the agony over missing her becomes too much to bear.

"I see great minds think alike," I grumble.

When she glances over her shoulder, I hold up the beer and her eyes flick to the one sitting next to her.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess so."

"What are you doing up here?" I don't mean for it to come out sounding accusatory, but it does.

"I should ask you the same question. This is my hike."

"Sorry, beauty, but you don't get to come back after eight years and start staking your claim again. You gave up those rights when you ran out on us."

I'm being a prick. But I don't much care. Right now, it feels justified. Even if I'll regret it later. I'm never a dick when it comes to her. But shit, I don't know how to be anything but right now. Not after she left me. Not after she told me she couldn't stand to look at me. If you ask me, she's the one being a dick.

"Fine, Jones," She stands abruptly.

I hate the way she says my name, almost with a hiss at the end but also cutting it short, like she can't be bothered with the energy it takes to even say my name.

"You want something else of mine? My favorite spot in Maple Ridge? Fine. Take it." She stomps away.

"Did it ever occur to you that this is my favorite spot?" I holler after her.

She stops walking, shooting a glare over her shoulder at me.

"And that maybe I started coming here by myself after you left, and when missing you was too suffocating? That maybe I came here because this was the place I felt the closest to you?"

She turns to face me, her sparkling green eyes starting to gloss over.

"I don't know what else you're referring to that I've taken of yours, because I hate to break it to you, but you got nothing left here that's yours."

It's cold. And maybe too far. But she's got me so twisted up inside. I don't want to fight with her. I want to sweep her up in my arms and hold her to my chest. I want to breathe in her scent. The familiar and the new. I want to do more than that. But I don't let my brain go there. It's too cruel to let my imagination go to those places.

"You know what, Jones?" she bites out, propping her hands on her hip, the six-pack hanging from a hooked finger, the way she spits out my name makes me cringe. "Thanks for the reminder of why I left. And why I haven't come back. There's nothing for me here."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Forget this. I don't have the energy for this." She whips around and tears off toward the trail.

"Yeah, leave, Mia. It's what you do best."

She takes me by surprise when she spins around and stomps straight toward me, not stopping until the toes of her boots are touching mine. I suck in a ragged breath and stare at her.

"Does it make you feel better to cut me down? Does it make you feel like a big man, Jones? Does it?"

She's so close I can feel her words on my face. I'm so angry at her but it doesn't stop me from wanting to grab her and kiss her.

"No," I finally say. "It makes me feel like shit."

Her jaw ticks and her eyes soften.

"I don't know how to do this, Mia. I don't know how to be this close to you and not be with you. "

"I don't know how either." She sniffs.

"And I don't know what to do about you not being able to look at me."

"Jones," she breaths out my name, and honestly, it's better than how she was saying it only minutes before.

I grab onto the tops of her arms with every intention of moving her from my vicinity before I do something stupid, something I regret, like kiss her. But before I can, she sets her hands on my face and gazes directly in my eyes. "Have you not noticed; I'm looking at you."

I stop thinking. My brain quits functioning, full stop, and I probably do the most idiotic thing. I haul her closer to me and I press my lips to hers. It's only for a second, maybe two, but it's so fucking intense. I quickly pull her back, ready to apologize.

But she pulls me toward her and slides her mouth against mine and when my tongue darts out, she parts her lips eagerly. We kiss like we're hungry for it, starving for one another, and like this might be the last time we'll ever get to kiss again.

Because it has to be.