Cocktails & Dreams (40 page)

A couple of hours later, sharp rapping woke her. Jena straggled to the door to find Conor leaning on the doorjamb.

“Holy God, Jen, you look like shit,” he said, pushing past her and flopping on the couch. He eyed Jena’s nest and raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong with your bed? Or just who isn’t in it?”

She closed the door and grimaced at him. “What’s up, Con? I need to shower and get ready for work.”

“Not for a couple of hours. I already talked to Travis.” He heaved himself off the couch and crossed the room to wrap his arm around her neck. “We’re going out to breakfast, cupcake. Shag your skinny ass into the shower, or I’ll take you just like this. And the crop circle hair isn’t good for anyone.”

“Conor, I’m really tired, okay? Can we do this on another day?” Jena was looking down, picking at the tattered hem of her shirt, so she was totally surprised when she was hoisted into the air over Conor’s shoulder and found herself looking at the small of his back.

“Nope,” he said calmly. “Bathroom or out the door. Your choice.”

Jena slapped his ass. “Conor, real people don’t do shit like this. Put me the hell down. Now.”

He laughed. “I’m real, I’m pretty sure. And you didn’t tell me where to put you. I’d choose the door for shits and giggles. These
Simpsons
pj pants are ridonkulous.”

“Fine! Bathroom,” Jena grated, and found herself on her feet and in the bathroom in half a minute with the door closing quietly behind her.

She rushed through her shower, just wanting to get the breakfast over with, and within twenty minutes she was seated in a restaurant booth across from Conor, pretending to study her menu as he looked at her steadily and ignored his.

“So. What’s been going on?” he finally asked, shaking his head as Jena shrugged. “You and Nicky are two of a kind. He won’t say anything either, but I’m guessing all this has something to do with the wreckage of your apartment and the hobo bed? And the fact that he sounds like he hasn’t slept since you guys left for Thanksgiving?” Jena flicked him a look, and he frowned. “Jen—”

The waitress interrupted what he was going to say by stopping for their order, barely noting down Jena’s order of eggs and toast as her eyes flickered to the firehouse logo on Conor’s T-shirt.

“My face is up here, sweetheart,” Conor drawled, laughing as the waitress turned bright red. He placed his huge order, still chuckling as she all but ran away from the table. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to use that line on one of
you,
” he said in a low voice, and Jena smiled.

That broke the ice, and they talked about jobs and school, particularly the finals that started next week. Conor paused to flash a grin at the waitress as she hurriedly threw their plates down and scurried off again, and then started talking about his prospective visit home.

“I’m leaving right after my last final,” he said with satisfaction. “God, I can’t wait to taste my mom’s cooking again.” He took a casual sip of his coffee, looking across the room. “You should come with me to Boston.”

Jena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Conor—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t make any decision right now, okay, Jen? Think about it. The ticket will be my present to you and Nick.”

Jena felt a sharp pain in her chest, and she couldn’t say anything. The thought of getting off a plane and seeing Nicholas again, hearing his voice and feeling him close to her…taking him away from his family when they needed to be together. Her heart dropped.

As if he had read her mind, Conor said, “Did Nick tell you that his dad had the surgery?” Jena shook her head. A frown crossed Conor’s face, and he looked down at his hands. “He’s not doing so well. They took care of what they could, but…” He sighed. “I guess they won’t know how it worked out for a while. He feels like he has to stay until they really
know
, you know? I guess him and his parents have worked a lot of stuff out the last couple of weeks.”

“That’s good. Really good,” Jena said softly, tearing her napkin to shreds as she wondered why Nicholas hadn’t told her any of this. “Con,” she ventured tentatively, “what’s going to happen with Nicholas’s school?”

“I don’t know. I know he talked to your boss about it. I get the feeling that if he’s not back soon he’ll be recycled, or whatever they call it in doc speak. He’ll have to repeat this rotation, at the very least.” He looked up at Jena. “Why don’t you know this stuff, Jen? Are you two dicking around again? Never mind, that’s obvious.” He leaned forward. “What I don’t get is
why?
Did he get assy again, or are you doing your mime impression? Or both?”

Jena stood up. “I have to get to work, Conor, so could you take me back to my apartment so I can get my car?”

“Sure,” he said flatly, tossing a twenty on the table.

The drive back to Jena’s car was silent, and they said only polite goodbyes before Conor was pulling away from the curb with a screeching of tires, and Jena had another day of school and work and nothing.

She got back into the habit of staying at her apartment, even straightening up the mess she’d made in the living room when she’d stupidly packed up Nicholas’s stuff. Every time Jena thought of that, she was ashamed of herself for making a difficult time for him even harder, though Nicholas had brushed it off as unimportant when she’d tried to apologize.

He had continued to send Jena something every day, and she continued to save them all, poring over the memories and the songs he chose every chance she had, though those chances were few with papers due and tests to prepare for. None of it seemed as important as the tiny ping that said that Nicholas was still thinking about her.

The morning of her finals, though, the message was different.

Jena-

I don’t know what else to do. I love you. I want you. I can’t promise never to flip out again, because I can’t see the future, but I can promise that when I do I’ll never let it go by again without dealing with it right away. Fuck, I hate this. Talk to me. Please. You said that you want to be fair—well, it’s not fair that you get all the power here.
I need you
. Talk to me. Talk to me.
Talk to me. Please.

Nicholas

Jena’s hand was trembling as she opened the attachment and heard the first bars of “Lover, Come Back.” She sat back and listened, feeling a yearning that matched the one in Morrison’s voice, before something struck her. He thought
she
had all the power? What the fuck?

Just as Jena leaned forward to dash off a question about what he’d said, the door flew open and Leisa bustled in, coffee in hand.

“Morning, sweet pea.” She listened to the song for a second, and a slight frown crossed her face. “That’s cheerful. I take it you got your message already today?” She held up a hand that clutched a bag. “Don’t answer that. None of my business, right?” She carefully placed her cup on top of the bookcase and tossed her coat on the chair. “First final is today, right? Well, I wanted to make sure you ate first, so here I am.” She shook the bag in Jena’s face. “Ta-da! McDonald’s!” Jena felt an unwilling smile turn her lips up. “Sit down, babydoll, and eat.”

Jena could hear Leisa clearing up in the kitchen as she listlessly ate her breakfast, and she was grateful for having such good friends. She felt a pang when she thought of Nicholas in Boston, without any of this. Then again, maybe it was a relief to be back to his coolly normal world.

Dishes clattered and Leisa cleared her throat before asking casually, “So what does Nick have to say lately?”

Jena pushed her McMuffin away, tiny appetite now gone. “Nothing, actually.”

A cupboard door crashed shut. “What the hell is his problem?”

“I told him not to call. I’d call him.” Jena shrugged.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Leisa came charging out of the kitchen. “Grow up and deal with your shit.”

Jena looked up at her in shock.

“Like everyone doesn’t know something is going on, even though you’re not talking to us either,” Leisa scoffed. “We’ve all been pussyfooting around you, and I’m sick and tired of it. You need a little home truth, sweetie.” Leisa walked forward a couple of steps and smacked her hand down on the table. “You ‘need time to think,’ right? Well, I call bullshit. You always refuse to talk when you’re upset. It sucks, girlfriend.”

Forgetting for a moment that Leisa had no idea what had happened between her and Nicholas in Ashland, Jena could feel her temper rising. She pushed back from the table and rose to her feet.

“So I’m not allowed to consider if I can live forever being worried about Nicholas lashing into me for nothing? I’m supposed to be okay with worrying if he’ll be speaking to me on any given day? Or do you expect hearts and flowers every day because we love each other?”

“Do you expect that, Jena?” Leisa shot back. “Because I can tell you right now that it ain’t gonna happen. People fuck up, even you. That’s life.”

Jena felt angry tears behind her eyes, and she willed them back. “No, I don’t expect perfection, damn it! That’s why I wanted to take this time to think. To be sure. Would it be better to get married and then find out I couldn’t stand it?”

“Like you’d get that far. You’re so scared of making a mistake that you run away as fast as he chases you. And, you know, I hope Nicholas is using this time, too. To consider whether he wants to live with someone who expects him to read her mind, because she sure as fuck isn’t about to
share
what’s going on in there.” Leisa’s eyes were snapping, and she was shaking.

“I’m just trying to be smart about us, Leisa. I—”

“You’re protecting yourself. Because I
know
you have to know that it isn’t right to hurt both of you like this, especially with what he’s going through.” Leisa took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then started again in a gentler tone. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I just came to make sure you were good for your test today.”

Stepping back, Jena looped her bag over her shoulder with a bitter laugh. “You did that real good,
sweet pea
. Fuck you very much.”

She snagged her coat off the couch as she passed and slammed the door on the way out, feeling both childish and satisfied at the crash it made and in the roar of her engine as she revved it before screeching out of the lot.

Jena took her first test on autopilot, hoping the part of her brain that dealt with schoolwork could handle it without the rest of her mind, because it was wavering between rage and betrayal. At Nick. At Leisa. At Conor. And especially at herself. What the hell was she thinking, if what she’d been doing could be called thinking at all?

The rest of the day jerked by in fits and starts—painfully slowly as Jena packed her bag between finals and in overdrive as she took her last final, not having any idea what she’d written by the time she’d finished.

Time sped as Jena made her preplanned trip home to Ashland. All she remembered from the drive was calling Nicholas and getting his voice mail, where she left a rambling apology for not responding to his message that morning, babbling about Leisa and Conor and her tests until she couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice anymore and hung up. Jena wanted to hear Nicholas’s voice and feel his hands, she wanted to smooth the lines on his forehead and listen to him tell her about his dad. Most of all, she wanted to wrap herself up in him and really sleep.

She came back to reality when her car door opened. “Jena, you look like hell.” Her father’s voice was angry, but his hands were gentle as he helped her out of the Jeep, and Jena realized that she’d been sitting in her parents’ driveway, crying, and she had no memory of arriving there.

“Thanks, Dad.” She laughed shakily. “People have been saying that a lot lately.” She wiped her face with the heels of her hands.

His face was set in grim lines. “Nicholas?”

“No, Dad. Me. I suck at life, apparently.”

“Oh. That.” He sighed and led Jena into the dining room where Sharon was waiting with a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches. She rose and took Jena’s coat, handing it to her husband before giving Jena a tight hug. Jena sank into a seat next to her mother, grateful for her comforting presence.

Rob deposited their coats on the hooks beside the back door before pulling out his own chair. “We all suck at life sometimes. Part of being human.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for a second before asking, “So? You gonna tell us or what?”

Jena started slowly, talking in fits and starts, trying to tell them honestly what had happened, starting with the night Nick left their house. When Jena got to the part with the box she sped up, not wanting to think about that and being totally unable to stop thinking about Nicholas every minute of the day.

Her parents listened quietly, asking pointed questions when Jena started to taper off, until her voice died.

They sat looking at each other for a few minutes when she finished. Sharon finally rose from her chair and rummaged in a drawer before coming up with an envelope. She set it in front of Jena.

“I got this a couple of days ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” She wrung her hands in a very un-Sharon like manner. “Don’t be mad. I just…you’re my baby.”

Jena ripped open the envelope and found a plane ticket.

“Honey, we’ve known that something was wrong, even if you didn’t want to tell us.” She brushed Jena’s hair behind her ear and smiled sadly. “You’re not a very good liar. Even with non-lies.”

That tattletale!
Jena thought.

Sharon must have seen the guilty irritation in Jena’s eyes, because she held her hand up in warning. “Don’t blame Travis. I teased your theory out of him when we were peeling potatoes at Thanksgiving.” She smiled. “We had a good laugh. Anyway, Dad and I thought you might need some time to get away and think.” She pointed to the ticket again. “I talked to Luke, and he’ll meet you at the airport in Honolulu. Honey, you need to remember that you have options.”

“Let’s leave that for a minute, Sharon,” Rob said, leaning on his forearms. “Jena, I’m not sure what to think about you and your fella anymore. He talked to me about his intentions the morning you both slept down by the fireplace. He wants to marry you. I’m sure you know that.”