We grab burgers, fries, and milkshakes from a quirky, retro-themed bar called Flask in the heart of downtown before Theo returns me to my front step. It turns out passing out on a first date kills any kind of playful mood, because he hasn’t looked me in the eye once since we left the river.

  “See you tomorrow,” he tells me after I climb off the motorcycle behind him and hand him the helmet and jacket.

  “Will I?” I challenge, setting my hands on my hips. “Or did my lack of gravity scare you away as my contractor too?”

  He finally meets my gaze with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Shoulders relaxed, I glance back at my house. The previous owner left a small bench on the porch—a setting that could possibly re-spark the romance I felt brewing between us earlier—but the lingering heat is making me sluggish and cranky.

  “I could use a good dose of air conditioning and something strong to settle my nerves, but I drank the only bottle of wine I had and I don’t have AC yet.” When he throws me a confused look, I roll my eyes. “I’m trying to invite myself over to your place.”

  He regards my house for a moment before grunting, “Fine. Get back on.”

  A handful of blocks later, he dismounts the motorcycle in the driveway of a Craftsman house twice the size of mine, and holds the front door open, inviting me to enter ahead. His house is neat and orderly, featuring high-quality walnut furniture and multiple stained glass windows in arts and crafts style. Everything, including the wood flooring, shines with newness. Most impressed by the cleanliness of it all, I wonder if he hires a cleaning lady. It’s the complete opposite of a stereotypical bachelor pad.

  In a U-shaped kitchen featuring stainless steel appliances and a cozy island for two, he retrieves two glass tumblers from a Shaker cabinet and begins to fill them with ice from the refrigerator’s door dispenser.

  “Are you okay with cinnamon whiskey?” he asks, distracting me from my search for a single ounce of dirt or dust. “Pretty sure it’s all I have at the moment.”

  “I figured your drink of choice would be Ensure.”

  With an agitated scowl, he runs a hand through his wind-whipped hair. “How long are you planning to give me shit about my age?”

  “Until you give me a number,” I say, shrugging.

  “Forty-six,” he grumbles. “Satisfied?”

  I throw him a dramatic roll of my eyes. “Fourteen years’ difference is hardly enough to keep treating me like your daughter. Do you have any idea how many men in Hollywood date women more than half their age?”

  “That town’s a freak show.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mumble as he pours us two fingers each. There will most likely come a time when I’ll have to disclose the truth about my mom’s identity, but I hate wondering if a guy likes me only because he wants to meet her or even because he wants to take advantage of my wealth. I’m convinced Stefan was holding on to hope that my mom could connect him with someone in the industry who wanted to use his weird-ass banjo music for a soundtrack.

  When Theo hands me one of the glasses, I clink mine against his. “Here’s to new beginnings.” As he takes a drink, I sigh. “I’m sorry I fainted. I just had a weird…I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. I’m afraid if I tell you what really happened, you’ll write me off as a whack job, and I’ll scare you off for good.”

  One of his brows quirks in question. “What really happened?”

  “I had this…feeling. Like I’d been in that exact same spot before.”

  He gives me a slow shake of his head. “I thought you just moved here.”

  “I did, but the sensation was so incredibly strong. And I’ve been having these weird dreams ever since I was three that have only intensified after I moved here. I can’t help wondering if they’re somehow…I don’t know…related.”

  One corner of his mouth lifts with a grin made sinfully hot by the accompanying dimples. “What are these dreams about?”

  “Nothing perverted,” I assure him with a scolding look. “They involve a blonde little girl who spends a lot of time down in a grass field—almost exactly like the one you took me to earlier. The similarities were…uncanny.”

  Theo knocks back the rest of his drink and slams the empty glass on the counter top—hard enough to make it crack against the granite surface. “I should take you home. It’s late.”

  Watching him turn away, I huff out an annoyed breath. “I knew you’d react this way. You don’t seem the type to embrace anything unconventional.”

  He stops dead in his tracks. “It has nothing to do with you or my beliefs.” He turns back to face me, slowly shaking his head. “I have a lot of dark shit going through my head, alright? It’s one of the reasons I prefer to stick to myself.”

  A wave of empathy seizes my heart. He reminds me more and more of some of the runaways I worked with in L.A. who desperately needed someone in their lives who cared. For whatever reason, I can’t stand the idea of him sitting here all alone when he’s upset. “Have you ever tried discussing that dark shit with someone?”

  “Like a shrink?” he sniggers. “No chance of that.”

  “No, like a friend.” I gulp the rest of my drink and set it down on the counter before I start for him. “I can be one of those friends you spill your guts to—I’m good at keeping secrets. It’s not like I know many people here anyway.”

  His eyes widen as I tug on his hand. “That’s what you want from me? Friendship?”

  “In addition to other things.” His warm, strong fingers tighten around mine when I lead him into his living room. A pleasant buzz spreads through my gut as I guide him down to sit in one of two walnut arm chairs. I’m two seconds away from climbing into his lap and ravaging the beautiful lips that have been taunting me all day, but I remain standing after I release his hand. “We can take it slow…see where things go once we get to know each other. Relax while I pour us another round of drinks.”

  He yanks me down into his lap. “What if I don’t wanna talk?”

  My breath catches with the feeling of his warm thigh muscles beneath mine, and the severity of his dark gaze. He looks…ravenous. “Then we just hang out…enjoy each other’s company.”

  “You’re not hearing me,” he says, fisting the hair at the nape of my neck. “The last thing I want to do with you is talk.”

  The room spins when his mouth covers mine, lips moving with an intensity that would’ve knocked my socks off if I hadn’t already removed them along with my shoes at the front door. Something about the sensation of his kiss is extraordinarily warm and comforting. Familiar, even. When he draws back, his determined gaze making it clear he’s far from finished, I’m unable to draw in a proper breath or placate the rapid beats of my heart.

  “Old man has some moves,” I gasp.

  “You wouldn’t believe the shit I learned playing bingo.”

  A brass peal of laughter falls from my lips. “He has jokes, too!”

  He lowers his lips a second time, robbing me of both my wit and my sanity as my mouth yields to his. I become lost in the movement of his powerful lips and the way his hands grip my face as if I’m going to disappear. The intensity of his strong hold has me completely undone.

  It’s all too much. Too fast.

  Reluctantly, I pull away to study his expression. “What is this, Theo?”

  A smirk plays on his lips. “Do I really need to spell it out?”

  “I mean, I know we just met and everything, but this connection between us…it’s a little stronger than what I’m used to. Am I crazy, or do you feel it too?”

  His coarse fingertip drags across my sore lips, adding to the fire already ablaze in my gut. “Told you I didn’t want to talk.”

  “That’s the problem,” I say, disengaging myself from his embrace to stand and pace the room. “You say it’s going to take several months to finish my house, right? I don’t want us to get caught up in a quick fling that doesn’t go anywhere, then have to suffer awkwardness around each other for how many hundreds of days after. If you can’t open up to me about yourself…like at all—”

  “Fine.” His eyes meet mine, ripe with impatience. “What do you wanna know?”

  I try like hell not to laugh, but I’ve never been with a guy quite this eager to get inside my pants. I stand in front of him, smirking as I study the hard lines of his jaw and the faint wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes when he squints. “Well, uhhh…let’s start with something easy. Like maybe your family. Are you an only child? Do your parents live here?”

  “It’s just me. My mom died a while back and I have nothing to do with my old man.” He crosses his arms, studying me beyond the bridge of his strong nose. “What about you?”

  “My parents are divorced. My mom still lives in L.A. where I grew up, and my dad recently moved to the northern Bay Area with wife number three.”

  “Why L.A.?”

  “My mom’s in the entertainment business,” I say, pausing to briefly chew on my lower lip. If I’m going to get him to open up, I suppose it’s only fair I reveal more about myself. “I’m guessing you’ve heard of April Marie?”

  “She’s your mom,” he says, matter-of-fact like.

  “How did you—”

  “You look just like her.” His expression remains even-keeled as he shrugs. “Something felt familiar about you the first time I walked into your house. It must’ve been that…I just couldn’t put my finger on it until now.”

  Panic thickens in my throat. “Please don’t tell anyone. Carol knows because my mom had to get involved in the purchase of my house, but I don’t plan on letting anyone else know.”

  Theo grunts, gaze sweeping around the empty room. “Who am I gonna tell?”

  “I don’t know…you must have some buddies you like to hang out with and drink beer while watching football or whatever barbarian sport is in season. Isn’t that what guys do around here?”

  “Like I said, I prefer to keep to myself.” In a flash, he snags my hand and pulls me back into his lap. It’s impossible to breathe when his taunting mouth lingers so close to mine. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

  When he kisses me this time, I don’t protest. It’s been ages since I’ve experienced this degree of raw passion—since high school, to be exact—and Theo Davies is one exceptionally talented kisser. Besides, I’m satisfied that he was finally able to share something personal with me, even if it was barely a proper response to my questions. He didn’t mention how his mom died, or if his father lives nearby. Hopefully, with time, I’ll gain his trust and find a way to crack his stone facade.

  9

  JACKIE - 1986

  J.R. adjusts the sling around his neck before holding his left hand out between us. “Come on, Jackie. Let’s go. I won’t let you fall.”

  This afternoon, a mere hour after school let out for MEA weekend, he appeared on my front step with his right forearm in a fresh cast. He claimed he tripped at basketball practice, and the doctor told him he fractured his radius bone. He was in a rotten mood and claimed it was because he won’t get to play basketball for the rest of the season. He let me sign his cast, and now I kind of wish I hadn’t signed my name with a heart. What if the other boys at school tease him because of it?

  The fence he wants to climb to sneak into the park is at least 10 feet tall. How’s he going to scale it with one arm?

  “You aren’t supposed to get your cast wet,” I remind him, shaking my head over and over. “And the water will be ice cold!”

  “We aren’t going to get wet,” he promises. “I just want to see these waterfalls you keep talking about. Soon they’ll be frozen and it won’t be as cool.”

  I take his hand, still unsure, letting him guide me down the steep slope leading to the park. Relief slides through me when he pushes on a section of the fence and it gives way where it’s been cut. I don’t ask J.R. how he knew about the opening, although I do wonder if maybe he’d cut it himself on a different day. I slip through the opening ahead of him, then begin to lead the way down the path to the first waterfall. The park is quiet. We only pass two other couples walking their dogs.

  “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” J.R. blurts.

  “Really?” I turn to him with a thrill in my belly. Maybe I could bake him a cake, and we could sit on top of a table across from each other like Sam and Jake in Sixteen Candles. Maybe then he’d kiss me. Maybe he’d even ask me to the Albatross for one of their Teen Night dances. “We totally need to do something cool to celebrate. We could go to that new Tom Cruise movie everyone is talking about.”

  J.R. makes a funny little frown-face. “Top Gun? I don’t think it’s in the theatre anymore. We could always just hang out at your place.”

  My fantasy of going to the dance fizzles. Still, I could make him a cupcake, and stick a candle in the center. Maybe there’s still a chance he’d want to kiss me. “It might still be playing at the drive-in,” I tell him. “The movies there are always a couple of months behind. We can ask Karrie—she’s working there all weekend and will let us in for free there too.”

  “Really?” J.R. throws me a lop-sided smile. “That would be rad!”

  I glance down at his arm. “What about your dad?”

  “What about him?” he snaps.

  “Will he care if you’re not home to celebrate?”

  When he responds with a mean look, a rush of tears burn behind my eyelids. It’s not too different from the way he looked at Ben and Matt after he came to my rescue. “You know, Jackie. Sometimes you can be really cool, and I think you might be the best friend I’ve ever had. But sometimes you totally act your age, and I wonder why I’m wasting my time with a sixth grader.”

  Tears dribble down my cheeks as I stand motionless, watching him walk away. I hold my breath when he pauses for a second like he’s going to turn around and say he’s sorry, but then he shakes his head and continues on.

  Like every other Saturday, the drive-in theater is packed by the time the sun sets on J.R.’s birthday. Although J.R. didn’t exactly apologize for the way he treated me the day before at the park, he’s been extra sweet ever since he came to my house early this morning with my favorite donuts. I insisted we light a candle and stick it inside his, then I sang the birthday song before I’d let him blow it out. My mom didn’t come home the night before, but my singing woke Diane and she’s been clinging to us like velcro ever since. I spent the entire day wishing she’d go away, because there was no room for her in my plan to make J.R. want to kiss me.

  When Karrie lets us in past the gate at the drive-in, she stops snapping her bubble gum long enough to give our trio a sly smile. “Hey, Diane. You’re sure babysitting Jackie-O and the new kid a lot these days.”

  “It’s J.R.,” he tells her in a way that makes him sound three years older. “And I’m fourteen. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Diane scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “Someone has to keep an eye on them.”

  Karrie pops a little pink bubble, dark eyes wide. “Speaking of babysitting, did you hear what happened to Karl’s little sister?”

  As Diane and Karrie catch up on gossip, I take the speaker from Karrie and head out with J.R. to find an ideal spot to camp out, an old blanket from home draped over my arm.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with seeing a scary movie?” J.R. asks as we maneuver around parked cars. “I heard this Friday the Thirteenth is more gory than the others.”

  When I’d asked Karrie was what playing, I almost lied to J.R. and told him it was a kids’ movie. But then I reminded myself it’s his birthday and he loves slasher movies, so I sucked it up and agreed to go. Now that we’re outside in the cold, dark night, I’m not as sure I made the right choice.

  Zipping my rainbow puffer jacket up to my chin, I shrug. “I’m not scared. It’s just pretend.” I glance around at the dark cars with a chill that rattles my bones. I’m more afraid that whoever took Becky, Shannon, and 16-year-old Heidi Thompson, is among those lurking nearby in the dark. If anything, it will give me a reason to snuggle a little closer to J.R. during the scary parts.

  Once we come across an open lot in the back, I spread the blanket on the ground and J.R. begins to mess around with the speaker. “How does this work?” he asks.

  “It’ll come on once they start playing the trailers.” I sit on the ground beside him. “I can’t believe you’ve never been to a drive-in.”

  “My old man isn’t into family time,” he reminds me, tossing the speaker aside. He then throws me one of his dimpled grins. “Screw him. I’d rather spend my birthday with you anyway.”

  I brush my fingers over the heart I drew on his cast before meeting his warm gaze. “J.R.,” I begin, my voice as soft as I can make it, “I think you should tell someone.”

  His smile fades. “Tell someone what?”

  “About your dad. How he hurts you.”

  Lips curling with a frown, he bends in closer until his warm breath tickles my ear. “You want me to go away? Because that’s what will happen if the courts get involved, Jackie. They’ll stick me in a home for boys, unless of course my old man wipes me off the face of the planet first for ratting him out and probably losing his job. Either way, I’ll never see you again. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not.” I throw him a pleading look, wishing he’d take it back. “It would break my heart.”

  “Then let it go. I’m fine. I can take it.”

  “What are you kids doing here?” a gruff voice says. “This movie’s rated R.”

  My spine tingles as I spin around and find Mr. Kabe standing behind us. He’s an even bigger nerd than usual in jeans too short to cover his ankles, bright white sneakers, and a brown sweater the color of poop beneath a faded windbreaker jacket.

  Embarrassment for being caught by a teacher quickly turns into a bolt of red-hot anger. He’s been extra mean to me since the first day of school, calling me out in front of my classmates for not knowing the answers to hard questions and making me sit in the hallway a couple of times. Matt and Ben have left me alone since J.R. yelled at them, but I hear my other classmates laugh and whisper to each other when Mr. Kabe draws attention to me. Why does he have to pick on me outside of school, too?