Page 38 of Jumping In

Self-conscious that my now-soaked panties are seeping into his jeans, I make my way back over to the passenger side of his car. I smooth my dress down then flip the visor to assess the damage. Mac’s hands were all over my face and in my hair, so the tousled look was about what I was expecting, but I still suck in a breath.

Mac chuckles. “Yeah, you look freshly fucked.”

“Shit! What if my parents are awake?” I ask, glancing at him as panic replaces the smirk on his face. Patting down my hair as best as I can, I pull a hair tie out of my bag, twisting it into a messy bun. Worst-case, I can just say I got hot and had to put it up. When I turn back to Mac, his smirk returns.

“Yeah, that’ll help,” he says. I don’t believe him for a second, but here’s to hoping no one is up. Biting my lip, I grab my bag and reach for the door handle before turning back to him.

“I think it’ll be best if you stay in the car, just in case.”

“Okay.” He leans across the car and kisses me softly. “Forgive me for not getting the door for you this one time?”

I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “Yeah, you goofball! Text me when you’re home?”

“Of course.” We lean away from each other, and I can feel his eyes on me as I walk up to the house.

Pushing open the front door, I’m hoping I can sneak upstairs without waking anyone up. Closing the door gently behind me, I tiptoe across the marble tiles toward the stairs. Buttery light pours out of the library.Shit.

Hopeful he hasn’t heard me, I take a tentative step onto the bottom stair. The wood groans softly beneath my foot.Double shit.

“Emmalynn, come in here, please,” my father’s baritone voice disrupts the quiet space. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and pivot toward the library. I smooth my dress down, hoping I don’t look as disheveled and freshly-fucked as Mac suggested.

“Yes, Daddy.” I give him my most saccharine tone. He’s sitting in an oversized high-back chair with a book on his lap. Pulling his glasses off his face, he sighs. As he lowers his arm, he rolls his glasses between his fingers. They swing back and forth like a pendulum, ticking down the seconds to my doom. Tick-tock.

“I heard you were out with Alexander tonight.” The accusation rolls off his lips.

“How did you—” Ah yes, the small-town rumor mill works harder and faster than anything else in this town. I saw the stares, heard the whispers, I should've known he’d already be aware. “Yes, I was. We went to the Movie in the Park with some friends.”

My dad sighs, and I can feel the disappointment radiating off him.

“Emmalynn, you’re a smart girl. Do you think that boy is the type of company you should keep?”

“Daddy, he’s my friend, just like Blake, Austin, and Shannon.”

“Yes, but he’s also trouble, Emmalynn.” He doesn’t raise his voice, not really. But his stern tone is enough to startle me, and I take a step back. I’ve never been afraid of my father. He’s never laid a hand on any of us. The tone he’s using reminds me of when he’s in the zone at work, and I know he’s intent on getting his way. Accepting defeat, I stand there in silence.

He sighs again, this time his tone is softer. “I just don’t want you to get into trouble, too. You have a bright future ahead of you and I would hate to see it ruined because of some boy.”

Rolling my lips I continue my silence, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. I know he wants what’s best for me, but does anyone know what’s best for someone else’s heart?

“Go on upstairs and get some rest. We can talk more about this with your mother as well.” He dismisses me.

I offer him a curt nod and then turn to the stairs, racing up them as quickly as possible. Closing my door silently, I strip my clothes off and turn the water on as hot as it will go. The water rains down on me, warming the chill that has taken hold of my bones. My mind replays the night with Mac and then with the conversation with my dad. He’s so convinced that Mac is bad news, but I still don’t one hundred percent believe he even committed the crime he’s being accused of. Why can’t he see Mac how I do? The way I always have? Why has no one even questioned if he actually did it? What happened to innocent until proven guilty? He may have plead guilty but . . . the water turns cool, pulling me from my thoughts.

June 22

I feel like I’m floating on a cloud for most of Saturday, reliving Friday and every moment spent with Mac. It still feels a little surreal, but then my phone will ping with a text from him, reminding me that it was very real. My cheeks heat when I look at the most recent message from him, which includes a picture of the backseat of his car and a “wish you were here” text. Dirty boy.

Perusing the Digital Marketing program at Caracrest, I see that I only need a semester’s worth of classes to get the degree on top of my business degree. The university offers the classes online, so I could easily stay in Oakridge to complete them. Since I’ve been home, I’ve realized I don’t want to leave this small town. As annoying as the rumor mill can be, I love it here. I won’t lie and say Mac isn’t part of the reason I want to stay, because I definitely want to give this a fair shot, whatever this is.

The document I intend to bring to my parents about my future plans is now four pages deep. I have the beginning of a plan that I think they’ll go for. Mom and Dad have always supported me but I’ve also always gone along with the path we decided on together. It feels weird going against something that we all agreed on, so I want to be able to show them why it’s a good plan and why I think it’ll be best for me.

I take a quick shower and freshen up before heading out to meet Shannon at Hal’s after she practically begged me to come see her while she works so I could check out the scene. I’m not sure what kind of scene I’m going to be walking into considering it’s Oakridge, but I’m kind of excited to find out.

Kelsea Ballerini’s “This Feeling” blares through the speakers as I push my way into Hal’s. Despite being in a small town, the bar is packed. I spot Shannon working behind the bar and make my way through the crowd to an empty seat. She greets me with a smile and yells over the music, “Yay, you’re here!”

“Yep, I’m here! This place is popping!” I yell back.

Shannon nods and then slams a shot glass on the counter in front of me. “Lemon drop to get you started.” I pick up the glass off the sticky counter. I should have known she’d get me drinking. Shooting the lemon drop with a grimace, I slide the shot glass back to her. Lemon drops are fun, but the lemon is always too sour for me. In return she slides me something in a lowball glass. The drink is purple on ice. A lemon dipped in sugar is stuck to the rim. At least it looks cute.

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