Page 97 of Light My Fire Three Times
“Vanessa,” I say, dragging the word out. “What are you doing here?”
She smiles. “I was in the area. Thought I’d check in. See how you were doing.”
I reach into the truck bed, pulling the box of screws closer. “I’m doing fine.”
She steps closer, boots crunching on gravel.
“You look good. Better than the last time I saw you.” Her eyes skim over me, cataloging every detail. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
I roll my eyes. Yeah, she hasn’t because I’ve been pointedly ignoring her. “Busy.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Hard work suits you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, setting the box down on the tailgate.
Her fingers trail along the edge of the truck, and then she leans in. Just close enough that I catch her perfume over the smell of cold metal and sawdust.
“I’ve missed you,” she says softly. “I really do want to hang out again.”
I huff out a laugh. “You don’t miss me. You miss attention.”
“No, I miss you. Let’s have dinner. Just as friends as you want.”
I shake my head, grabbing the box of screws. “Dinner’s not happening, Vanessa.”
Her smile flickers. She clearly didn’t expect me to shut it down so fast. “Why not? You don’t even want to think about it? One meal. Come on, I’m not asking too much… unless there’s someone else.”
I don’t answer. Not out loud. But I guess my silence does the talking for me, because her eyes narrow, sharp as glass.
“Oh,” she says, dripping with fake sweetness. “Interesting. Does she know? About you and me?”
My jaw tightens. “There isn’t a you and me, Vanessa. Never was. You’re trying to spin a story.”
She leans in closer, her breath warm in the cold air. “Maybe not to you. But you think she’ll see it that way?”
I stare her down, every muscle in me wanting to walk away, but knowing that if I don’t make it clear, she’ll keep pushing.
“There is no ‘she’.”
The words are a lie on my tongue, bitter and heavy. Because we both know that’s not true. There is a she. There’s Olivia. Her name sits on the back of my teeth. A secret I’m dying to spit out.
But I’m not about to let her see that.
Vanessa tilts her head, lips curving in that knowing smile I used to think was sexy. Now it just makes me want to walk straight through the nearest wall.
“No?” she murmurs, leaning against the truck. “You sure about that? You’ve got a look in your eye, Jesse. Same look you had the first night you kissed me.”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “That wasn’t a look. That was whiskey.”
She steps closer. Too close. Her perfume hits me again, cloying, too sweet, nothing compared to the clean, warm scent that lingers on Olivia’s sweaters.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Vanessa whispers, as if it’s a compliment. “Who is she? Tell me. Is it that woman you work with? No, too obvious. One of those girls from the feed store? Or…” Her voice drops, sly and cutting. “Is it someonenew?”
The box of screws nearly slips from my grip. My jaw locks so tight I swear I feel a crack in my molar.
“Walk away, Vanessa,” I say quietly. Deadly quiet.
She laughs, soft and cruel. “So, it is her.”
