Page 61 of Jake and Conner
"I know that." Conner smiled. "I was just wondering if you remembered that conversation we had about taking things slow."
"I can take things slow," I promised. "I remember. We're not jumping into moving in together, or marrying, or having babies." But sex hadn't been on the list of things we weren't doing, had it? I fought the urge to scratch my head.
"Exactly," Conner said, still with that smile on his face. There was something mysterious about it. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. As if he knew some secret I had no clue about. He'd always enjoyed that sort of thing, even if he never kept a secret from me for too long. "I just thought it would be nice to spend the holiday together. Remember that time you gave me cake for Omega's Day?"
"I've done that more than once."
"I mean the first time."
I nodded. There was no way I would ever forget.
It had been omega day, the year I'd turned fifteen.
~
I'd slaved away in the kitchen for hours the night before, guided by my uncle Dean who was helping me make the perfect cake. We were making two cakes, really, because he needed one forhisomega too, but I couldn't help but think that mine was a little more important than his, because it was for an important mission.
I'd seen Conner on various omega days over the years, and there was always something sad about him on those days, no matter how much he tried to hide it behind smiles and laughter.
I knew the reason for his sadness too.
Every year on omega day, he was reminded of the parent who'd given birth to him, and who he'd lost when he was little.
Every year, he visited the cemetery.
It wasn't that I wanted to stop him doing that. Even at fifteen, I understood the importance of this ritual. All I wanted to do was to change the way he spent the rest of his dayafterhis visit to the cemetery. I wanted to lift his sadness, if only just a little bit. I wanted to slip under that layer of grief that laid itself over him and help him carry it.
And this cake was going to help me do it.
I’d waited for Conner at the cast-iron gate of the cemetery, the cake in a box to keep the icing from melting in the summer sun beating down on me.
After a few minutes, I spotted Conner and his family walking down the path toward the gate, done with their visit. Conner's dad shot me a curious look when he saw me. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I wanted to talk to Conner," I said.
"And it couldn't wait until the evening?" He sounded bemused.
I shook my head. Sometimes they went out as a family after these graveyard visits and I would never know when they would get home. I couldn't wait that long. This was important.
Conner's stepfather seemed to sense what I was up to, because he tugged on his husband's arm and led him away. "C'mon," he said, "let's give the boys a minute." And Conner's dad let himself be dragged away. Conner's youngest sister went along with them, which left Mary, who looked at me with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
"Make it quick," she said. "We're having ice cream after this." Then she stalked off.
I had something better than ice cream, but she didn't know that, and I didn't tell her. My whole attention was focused on Conner, who was studying me with an expression of curiosity that matched his father's.
I was starting to wonder if I'd been stupid to come to the cemetery. This really wasn't the best place for this, was it? It wasn't appropriate. But we were standingoutsidethe gates, so maybe it wasn't so bad, and anyway, it was too late for me to change my mind now.
"I got something for you," I said, presenting my box to Conner.
"For me? Why?"
"Because it's Omega Day, and you're omega," I said simply.
"Oh." Conner looked at me and then at the box, obviously not at all sure how he was supposed to react. "Thank you," he said eventually, taking the box from me. I watched nervously as he opened it and his eyes widened. Was he going to like it? It was a square shaped strawberry cake with white cream on top and the biggest strawberries I could find lining the edges. One strawberry was missing, because little Bastian had stolen it and greedily stuck it into his mouth before I could stop him. But I hoped Conner wouldn't focus on that. In fact, I was pretty sure he wouldn't. I was pretty sure he was going to focus on the message I'd put in the center of the cake instead.
I love you.I'd written in red icing.
I'd said that to him before, but more in an off-hand, platonic way, and not since we'd started kissing.
