“So…” Char leaned back on her hands and tilted her head. “You’re telling me two brothers wanted her, she couldn’t chose, and in the end everyone suffered and then she died?”
Yeah, probably not the best story to tell Char at the moment, but he was grasping at straws, trying to keep her from asking him the obvious: what was wrong, and have him blurt his feelings.
“I think I know why you like the story,” she said.
Surprised, Jake snorted. “What? It’s just a story.”
“No.” Char pointed toward the river. “The whole ‘this is how deep the Columbia River is’ fact lesson was just you avoiding pouring out your feelings. The story, however, is your way of doing it.”
“Excuse me?” Since when did she become a shrink?
Char reached for a beer. “Would you have fought for the girl? For your lover, or would you have given up?”
Jake was silent. His eyes flickered to the two mountains in the distance. “I would have done what was easy.”
“And what’s that?”
He shrugged, Good God, what was with his shrugging! “I would have walked away.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what I do, Char. I walk away. I take the easy route. Is that what you want to hear? You want me to tell you that I’m different? That I’m the good guy? The guy that fights for what he wants? Well, I don’t fight for shit. I don’t have to, I’ve never had to.”
Char silently drank her beer, but her hand was shaking as she lifted it to her lips. He sighed and looked away. “I’m not that guy.”
“Says who?” her voice was pleading.
Jake shook his head and looked back toward the house. Laughter floated out of the backyard. “Everybody.”
“Even Grandma?”
“Fine, I have one fan.” Jake cursed.
“Two.” Suddenly Char’s beer was in front of him; she clinked her bottle against his and smiled. “You have two fans.”
Jake laughed. “Says the girl who’s threatened my life how many times in the past week?”
“Hey.” Char didn’t scoot away; instead, she leaned against him. “Fertility dance partners stick together.”
“Right. Apparently I need all the help I can get, you know, since my self-esteem is so low from the extra small condoms.”
“Who am I to judge?” Char winked. “I’m hitting the bottle and clearly I have a drinking problem.”
They fell into easy laughter, until the wind changed and Jake was able to smell her flowery perfume. He tensed, as if she could sense it too, and she lifted her head and leaned in.
“Char!” Jace called from the ground. “You up there? I can’t see you! It’s time for dessert!”
“I know.” Her eyes never left Jake’s.
“Pity,” Jake whispered, cupping her chin. “I was just getting ready to have my dessert early.”
“Most people have to work harder for such a benefit.”
He swallowed and looked down at her plump lips. “I promise I will.”
“Don’t be a mountain.”
“Huh?” He pulled back.
Char rose to her feet. “Don’t give up; don’t be a mountain.”
“So what am I supposed to be?”
Char didn’t answer him as she moved to the ladder and began slowly climbing down, but just before her head disappeared she whispered. “Yourself, Jake. Just be yourself.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Char woke to yelling. After her odd conversation with Jake where she was at least eighty percent sure he was drunk, she’d faked a headache and gone to bed, skipping dessert and family game night.
With a groan she picked up her cell and looked at the time. One a.m.? Were they still up?
Not thinking, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and hit something soft. It groaned, then cursed as it pulled her feet out from underneath her, causing her to land with a thud against it.
“Jake?” She breathed.
“No, it’s some other half-starved, half-drunk, crazy seagull-talking lunatic. Yes, it’s me, Jake. Who else would be sleeping on your floor?”
“Good point.”
“You can get off me now.” He grunted.
“Why are you talking to seagulls?”
“That’s all you took from that last statement? Not even gonna ask about the whole starving or drunk thing, just straight to the seagulls?”
Char moved away from his warm body and sighed audibly. “It’s simple subtraction.”
“Huh?”
“Which thing is not like the other? Food and alcohol go hand in hand. Seagull taking? Not so much.”
“Either you’re brilliant or drunk. I can’t decide which.” The tone of his voice was gravelly. “Why the hell did you step on me? Better yet, why are you out of bed?”
“I heard a noise.”
“It’s called breathing, Char. Some people need to do it in order to live.”
“Shut up, you ass.” She pushed him down and walked toward the door. “It was more than that. It was like a scratching or something.”
“So, we have a squirrel problem.” He sounded bored.
“You hate squirrels.”
“Let them get me! You hear that, squirrels? I’m ready for you!” Jake lifted his hands into the air and sighed.