Swoonworthy Saturdays – #6: The One with Jake’s Point of View
Recently, I announced some pretty cool incentives you guys would get if ONE SONG AWAY reaches a certain number of adds on Goodreads. We hit the first one really quickly, and as promised, here’s part of Sophie-Claire and Jake’s meeting from his point of view. I wanted to do the whole chapter from his POV but life kept getting in the way. So here’s the first part and I’ll see what I can do about the second part.
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By mid-morning, I’m still not sober enough for this day.
Even though I’m at work, I’d rather be back at my place, just relaxing, or blowing off steam with Nolan. I went out for a drink last night, and one turned into about eight too many. Beer before liquor isn’t the kind of mistake I thought I’d make again, but apparently I made it last night at Time Out. When my alarm went off this morning, I think I could have beat a sailor in a cussing contest. Instead, I did what I had to do, and here I am. I wanted this business, this responsibility, but right now it’s kicking my damn ass. Usually, I’d be gunning for round two, baring my teeth for the fight, but I’m too hung over and exhausted for that today.
Quit bitching, Coop.
As always, her voice in my head catches me off guard. I keep thinking I’ll outrun her, but I can’t. My best friend hasn’t been part of my life in four plus years, but my brain loves to send me these fucked up reminders of her. Like I need a way of remembering the girl I’ve never forgotten.
Shaking my head, I survey the place quickly. I spot a few regulars and several new faces. Business is good at Freshly Ground, which means my investment is starting to pay off. When I first talked to Dad about going into business for myself, I think he thought I was insane. And maybe I am. But thanks to his name and collateral, two things I’m grateful for for the first time in a long time, I’m my own boss now.
Since I have a few minutes to spare before I’m needed anywhere, I lean against the counter. There’s a truck coming later today, and I have a buyer’s conference call at 2 p.m., but today is an easier day than yesterday. Losing three baristas this week means we’ve all been working harder. No one has complained except Mina, but I’m used to her sass by now, and I know most of it is good-natured. Mina was in a bad way when she rolled into town. I see a lot of myself in her, or well, the guy I was a few years ago. She’s running from something, so when she asked me for a job, I didn’t ask a lot of questions. I can tell she’s just letting the world hollow her out, and I’m hoping she’ll stay here long enough to put down some roots.
My attention is wandering. I blink when I realize I’m staring at a blond sitting by herself. Then I blink again. No way. No fucking way. It can’t be her. But it is. I’d know her anywhere. I’d know her in the middle of a crowd, even if I was blindfolded. Even though she’s supposed to be in Nashville, Sophie-Claire Wright is somehow here. In my town. In my coffee shop.
She looks up like maybe she can tell I’m studying her, her gaze flickering toward mine. When our eyes meet, she breaks the contact almost immediately, but I see the startled expression on her face before she looks away. I pull in a deep breath, feeling suddenly starved for air, much less the ability to hold my shit together.
It’s her. Same features, same brilliant blue eyes. Same ability to strip me bare with a look. I don’t see any recognition in her face, but it’s been four years since she last saw me, and we’ve both changed. I’m a whole other person than the kid she knew. I’m different on the inside and on the outside, but the one thing that hasn’t changed, and won’t ever change, is my reaction to her.
My heart feels like it’s beating the hell out of my chest, but I start toward her. I lost my best friend once when I let her go, and there is no way I’m going to lose her again.
“Claire?” I say.
She looks at me again and her mouth drops open. Even though I want to run toward her, I force myself to walk, because it gives me time to study her. I watch her, watching me. I see the moment when she recognizes me, and briefly wonder what she’s thinking, but I still have no idea by the time I’m standing in front of her. Even though I thought I’d know what to say, since I’ve had enough time to imagine it, I don’t.
“Claire.” It isn’t what I meant to say, but this girl has always been able to knock the sense out of me.
When she stands, I expect her to hug me, or start talking, but instead she’s quiet. Silent. It’s clear she never expected to see me again, which is fair, because I never thought I’d see her. The last time I talked with her mom, DeeDee told me that Claire was still living in Nashville, working on building a songwriting career.
Damndest thing was, even though I’ve traveled a good part of the world, I couldn’t bring myself to drive a few hours to Nashville. I didn’t dwell on the why of that too long, but I guess I thought if I saw her, I might try to bring her home, or do something equally stupid, like tell her my life hasn’t been the same since she left.
Or hell, maybe I was afraid I wouldn’t know her anymore. She was a bright light when we were teens, but now she shines with confidence. She’s wearing her hair differently, and even though she looks shocked at seeing me, I can tell she’s used to commanding a room. Good. That’s good.
“Coop? What are you doing here? I heard you were backpacking through Ireland, or jet-setting through Scotland, or in Canada,” she says all in a rush.
When Claire stops talking and goes for her coffee cup, I smirk. Some things never change. She practically worshipped coffee when we were friends. I can take it or leave it. There are other things I have to have.
“I don’t know that I…what was your word? Jet-setted anywhere.” I laugh, thinking she has no idea what my life was like after graduation. I traded nights fighting with my folks for nights sleeping under the stars in places where I didn’t know a soul. Days of knowing whatever happened, it was on me, sink or swim. Whoever I was when I left…I lost him somewhere in my travels. That soft, spoiled kid who took so much for granted sloughed away like dead skin somewhere on the road. “But I did do some exploring,” I say.
Claire is holding onto her chair like she might fall out if she lets go of it, so I don’t take her hand like I want to. She must be more surprised to see me than I thought she was, because it’s like she can’t even find words. Her eyes are wide, wild. This isn’t the Claire I remember.
“Oh well, you know, I heard things.” She waves her hands in front of her face.
I heard things about her, too. When I was traveling, working odd jobs to make enough money to move on to the next town, I didn’t think too much about Claire. But when I came home, there were reminders everywhere. Finally, I caved and asked our friend Sloane about her. Sloane told me she was dating some wannabe actor, and that she’d sold a few of her songs. Yet here she is, back in Martinville. The past and present are colliding, and it’s a trip.
Clearly, she’s nervous. I can’t figure out why, but I think it’s up to me to break the ice.
“So you…heard things, huh?” I grin at her. “Any of these ‘things’ include the fact that I missed the hell outta you, Claire?” And it’s true. Being back here has changed my life in a lot of ways, but there was something missing: her. I’m lucky enough to have an amazing family, and some great friends, but I didn’t have Claire, and that made all the difference.
“No,” she whispers. “But I missed you too.”
Fuck it. I tug her toward me, and she melts into my embrace. No hesitation at all, just puts her arms around me, her head under my chin. And that’s all it takes. I’m somewhere I haven’t been since the day I put a necklace around her neck, then watched her drive away from me, somewhere I haven’t been despite settling down in Martinville again: I’m home. This is home. She’s home. Always has been, and I might as well admit to myself, it always will be. This girl is where I belong, as cheesy as that sounds.
I know I only have a few seconds until this gets awkward, so I make the most of our hug. Breathing her in, I hope to hell she doesn’t ask me for an explanation for my reaction, because I’ve never been able to put our bond into words. We clicked from the beginning even as kids, became best friends so fast, and now I can’t remember why I let us fall apart. Why I didn’t pursue her after she moved away.
Oh yeah, because I was self-destructing and decided I couldn’t put anyone through that anymore. I don’t regret leaving or the experiences I had, but I lost time with my family—and time with Claire. Time that, as we sit, I know I want to start making up for somehow.
What do y’all think? Want more of Jake’s POV, and other incentives? The next one happens at 150 adds on Goodreads, so let’s make it happen!
