Page 31 of Where You Left Me

“I thought an economics degree might help if I ever came back home to take over Base Camp Sports.”

Jones whips his head in my direction, and I feel the shift in speed as he removes his foot from the accelerator.

“You had plans to return?”

“Not plans, but I’ve always thought about coming back.” It’s unfair to give him false hope so I quickly follow it up by saying, “Never for good though.”

I feel his disappointment cut through me with only a look. He jerks his attention away from me. His Adam’s apple bobs up and back down his throat.

“Are you back living with your aunt?”

“No. After I got a taste of freedom for the year I interned in New York; I knew I needed my own space. Besides, she’s moved into a retirement building.” I crack open the window and inhale a breath of fresh Colorado air. “I live in an apartment near campus. It’s small but it’s mine.”

He nods. “Sounds great.”

It’s hard to tell if it’s genuine or sarcastic. Jones was always sarcastic. It was part of his charm. His humor has always reminded me of Chandler from FRIENDS. But that’s where their similarities end. Jones is confident and strong. He’s prideful and loyal. He’s the epitome of every girl’s fantasy.

But then I can’t help but wonder why some other girl hasn’t snatched him up yet.

Jones parksthe car in a large blacktop parking lot that used to be gravel. The signs out front are freshly painted and trendy but it’s still just as busy. Vehicles flow off the main road.

It’s as beautiful as I remember. Acres of orchards and vineyards for miles stretch along the bank of the Colorado River with the hill country sitting above. It’s too stunning to not pull out my phone and snag a few pictures. Connecticut is pretty but my friends back there will be impressed this is Colorado.

“C’mon.” Jones nods his chin and shuffles away.

I stuff my phone into the back of my shorts and follow him. Despite the incredible view of the orchard, the one right in front of me is distracting. The way Jones’s ass looks in his gym shorts has me close to drooling. He’s always had a tight little butt. Guess he never lost it after his hockey days.

We don’t even make it fifty feet before a woman hollers, “Martin is in the house!”

This is followed bywhoopsand whistles. Jones ducks into a tent and I walk in behind him. Inside the tent, there are peaches on top of peaches, they’re in baskets, bins, crates, and piled on tables. Before I catch up, the woman is hauling Jones into a giantbear hug. He lifts her up and spins her around, but locks eyes with me before putting her back down on her feet.

“Haven’t seen you in a few weeks, where’ve you been?” he asks her, spinning his hat backward so The Pines logo is visible to me. My core tightens. There’s just something about a man in a backward ball cap that gets me worked up.

“I was in Italy for two weeks,” the woman says, crossing her arms and forcing her impressive rack to be even more noticeable.

“Shit. Italy. What for?”

“Vacation. Duh,” she scoffs. “I know that’s unheard of for a workaholic like you, Martin, but some of us actually enjoy vacations.”

“I like vacations,” he says defensively.

“Okay, sure. When was the last time you took a vacation?”

He glances down and kicks the ground with the toe of his shoe.

She finally sees me to the side of Jones and sticks her hand out, smiling. “Hey, I’m Ronnie.”

I shake her hand. “Mia.”

Her eyes go round and she whips her head toward Jones. “Mia?”

“Um, yep. I’m Mia Coppella,” I elaborate, though something tells me I didn’t need to give her any with my introduction, she already knows who I am.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mia. Jones and I are…friends.” She coughs and flicks her wrist. “We go way back.”

It takes everything in me to not look at Jones. But I resist. Even while a ball of jealousy burrows in my gut. I have no right to be jealous. Jones has the right to date or fuck any girl he wants.

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

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