Page 45 of A Very Merry Mistake

“Hey, I’m Team CeCe. I believe in you.”

I look up into his green eyes, and I think he might be the only person other than my sister who’s ever told me that. I swallow hard, my heart fluttering, more determined than ever to chop that wood into two.

“Like this?” I ask, repositioning my hands.

He slides them further up on the handle. “Right here.” His voice is low. “Now, I’m going to step back. You want to focus on where you want to hit. So look where you want the blade to go.”

Jake moves toward the wood and points his finger right in the center of it. “Right here. Oh yeah, one more thing.”

He moves beside me and slides his strong hand between my thighs, parting my legs slightly. It might be cold outside, but I feel as if I’m sweating my body is so hot. “Shoulder-width apart. You want the stabilization when you swing.”

“Okay,” I say breathlessly, swallowing hard. He stands beside me and walks through the motions, explaining how my elbow should be, using my body weight to bring the blade down onto the wood.

I chuckle.

“You gotta tell me what’s funny.”

“This reminds me of the golf lessons I took.”

He shakes his head. “First sailing. Now golf. Your hobbies are too fancy for me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I hate golf, too. Now that I think about it, I pretty much dislike all the hobbies that I have. If you can even call them that.”

He gives me a puzzled look. “Then why do you do them?”

It’s not a question I’ve ever asked myself. I’m so used to doing what I’m supposed to that I’ve never thought about it. “I guess because of expectations.”

Jake shakes his head. “Fuck expectations. Life is too short. You gotta start doin’ the things that make you happy, CeCe.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know what does,” I admit, lifting the ax and slamming it down on the wood before he can pity me. The blade crashes where it should, and the wood cracks and splits nearly to the bottom.

Jake lets out a hoot. “You’re a natural!”

I’m giddy with excitement that I actually did it as he helps remove the blade and pulls the two pieces of wood apart before throwing it in the wheelbarrow.

“Want to do another one?”

“Yes.”

Immediately, he sets it up for me.

I think about my life. I think about all the motions I’ve gone through just to make everyone else happy, to fit in, to be the perfect mold of my father, down to sailing and golf. And the only person that I have to blame is myself. I lift and swing, bearing my body weight down as the sound of the ax slices through the log. I did it! And accomplishing something as simple as this gives me so much satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he encourages, and butterflies flutter inside me as he comes closer. “If you ever need a backup job, lumberjill might be in your future.”

I snicker. “I can’t even imagine.”

Jake gives me more praise, and I’m over the moon. After that, he shrugs off his coat and takes over. I stand back, admiring him as he lifts and swings. I help pick up the chopped wood and smile at him when our eyes meet. He continues until the wheelbarrow is full of logs for the fire. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “I think this is enough.”

I give him a nod, then we unload it.

After dinner, Jake and I sit on opposite ends of the couch. He carries the bottle of moonshine and drinks straight from the top while watching the flames lazily lick up the fireplace.

“Want a drink?” he asks, offering me the bottle.

Against my better judgment, I take it. “Thanks.”

Once I down two big gulps, I exhale spice and cough. Jake takes the bottle from me with a chuckle. “Gotta be careful. Too much moonshine, and you’ll lose time.”

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