Tessa Ever After (5 page)

Then every year after that, he or my mom were diligent in making sure to always leave the tiniest trickle of water running on days it got well below freezing. Every freaking year, they remembered to do that. And the one year I’m here by myself, I can’t even manage to turn on a fucking water faucet.

I’m biting back a fresh wave of frustrated tears—which serve only to piss me off more—when the back door opens, and Haley calls out for Jason. He murmurs something to her, then the floors creak as he makes his way toward me.

“Tess, what—” He stops in his tracks in the doorway, freezing as he takes stock of the situation in front of him. His eyes dart around—to the puddles of water on the floor, the bucket I’m holding under the vanity in front of the pipes, and finally to me and what a hot mess I’m sure I look like. I’m soaked from head to toe, and I don’t even want to imagine what my makeup is doing right now.

Clearing his throat, he darts his eyes up to mine before he averts his gaze. “Did you, um, did you shut off the water?”

I stare at him for a minute, and then a hysterical laugh bursts
out as a fresh wave of tears spring up. Because, no. No, I did not shut the water off. I hadn’t even
thought
of that, and what kind of idiot does that make me?

“Hey. Hey . . .” he says as he squats next to me, his hand rubbing tentative circles on my back through my water-soaked T-shirt. “It’s okay. I’ll go in the basement and get it shut off, then we can figure out what to do, okay? It’s fine.”

As he stands to do what he promised, all I can manage is a shake of my head as I close my eyes and sink further into the failure I’ve been so good at.

jason

The water’s been shut off, a plumber called, and Tessa is hiding in her bedroom under the guise of changing. And while it’s a damn good thing she is, the part of me who’s been having fantasies about her can’t help but be disappointed.

When I arrived, stepped into the doorway leading to the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, her legs sprawled out in front of her, her makeup smudged down her face, her hair flattened against her head, and—God help me—her pale pink shirt plastered to her chest, I had to look away. Immediately. Because in those two seconds, I glanced at her body beneath a shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide it, and I got more of an eyeful than I ever imagined I would. Turns out, light pink acts the same exact way as white when soaked through. Which means I got a front-and-center viewing of Tessa’s breasts, as clear as if she’d been standing in front of me naked.

I groan and close my eyes, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Haley’s in bed, finally, and I’m waiting for the plumber to arrive, all the while trying to get the image of Tessa’s perfect tits out of my mind.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, defeated, and when I sit up and twist around to glance at her, she looks just like she sounds. Her hair is just damp now, settling into soft waves, her face clear of all the smudged makeup she was wearing before, and she’s changed into a plaid flannel button-up and some sleep pants, and it still doesn’t stop her from being sexy. In fact, if it’s possible, she’s even sexier.

Could be the fact that I know the exact shape and size of her nipples now, and all it takes is a flash of my mind to conjure them up, despite the layer of dark blue and gray she’s hiding behind now.

“Hi.” I clear my throat and avert my eyes, because I’m afraid I’m going to drop them right to her chest again, like it’s a fucking beacon or something. “I called a plumber. He should be here within the hour.”

“Okay. Thank you. I probably should’ve just done that in the first place instead of dragging you into it, but this water was pouring out everywhere and I couldn’t even take a second to think.” She moves and sits on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her knees against her chest and bringing a throw pillow in front of her. Shaking her head, she stares down at her legs. “What an idiot.”

My brow furrows as I look at her. “Hey, you’re not an idiot. Why would you think that?”

A humorless laugh escapes her, and she rolls her eyes. “Only everything. It was my fault the pipes burst in the first place. I didn’t think—I didn’t remember to leave some water running so it wouldn’t happen. Do you think that ever happened to Cade?
Not once in the thirteen years since the first time it happened. I’m here for five months by myself and I managed to fuck up the very first winter.”

“Tess—”

“And then I didn’t even
think
about shutting the water off or calling a freakin’ plumber. I just kept filling up buckets and dumping them out, and Jesus, Jason, how did I think I could do this on my own?” Her voice is wobbly, her eyes glassy, but she swallows, not letting any tears fall. She’s so strong. Why can’t she see it for herself?

“It was stressful. And sometimes in situations like that, we have our heads up our asses. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to anyone
.
It happened to
me
.”

I turn to face her on the couch, my arm stretched over the back toward her. “Look, I know you’re stressed. And you feel like you’re failing. But you’re not.”

She rolls her eyes again, and I reach out and yank on a strand of her hair. “Hey!”

Shrugging, I say, “I figured that was better than flicking you in the forehead like I used to in high school.” She glares at me, and I keep on. “You weren’t listening to me, so I needed to get your attention.
You are not failing
.”

“Sure feels like it,” she mumbles, avoiding my eyes.

“Believe me, I get it. But you’re
not
. You get your daughter up every day, get her ready, take her to school, go to work, come home, feed her, and get her ready for bed, and at the end of the day, you’re both alive and happy and healthy. That’s not failure, Tess. So you’ve had a few bumps along the way. So fucking what.”

She snorts. “A few? Try a fuck-ton.”

“Fine, so you’ve had a fuck-ton of bumps along the way.
You’re still figuring all this shit out. You need to give yourself a break. You’re not going to step in and automatically know what to do all the time.”

“You did. I mean, I didn’t even think to turn the damn water off.”

“The only reason I did is because I remember the last time this happened. We were in sixth grade, and your mom was rattling off orders to Cade. Adam and I were here, getting in the way. First thing she said was to shut off the water.” I shrug. “Makes sense you wouldn’t remember. I think you probably locked yourself in your room, playing Barbies or whatever the hell you used to do for hours in there.”

Through my explanation, her face has softened slightly until a frown isn’t pulling at the corners of her mouth, and her shoulders relax.

“Are you finally back to being Regular Tess instead of Tess the Grouch?”

She laughs her first real laugh of the night and tosses the pillow at my head. “You’re such a jackass.”

Smiling, I catch the pillow and set it in my lap. Tessa’s legs stretch out from being up against her chest, and she doesn’t stop until her toes press into my jean-clad thigh. She gives me a light shove. “Thanks. For coming right away.”

I shrug, waving her off. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is,” she insists, her eyes intent on mine. “When it all happened and I was trying to figure out what to do, you were the first person who popped into my head to call. I can always count on you, and that means a lot. Especially now. So thank you.”

Despite the part of me that likes knowing I’m the one she called first, that I’m the one who’s always here to help, me being here all the time is part of the issue. Part of the problem I have
of not being able to get her out of my head. But as I look at her, a little lost, a little scared, a lot thankful, I realize there’s nothing I can do about it.

Because even though I have a hundred warnings going off in my head, a thousand reasons to stay away, I can’t. I can’t help myself, and I’m not sure I want to. I’d be here in a heartbeat if she needed me. And that’s not going to change.

FOUR

tessa

“Mama! It’s time to call Uncle Cade!”

“Okay, okay, just give me a second,” I say as I hurry to clear the plates from dinner—another meal my brother would be ashamed even got prepared in his kitchen. I try my hardest, but the fact is, some nights I don’t have the time—or energy—to do anything other than microwave something.

“It’s ringing!” Haley yells from the living room.

“Answer it, then.”

She does and then her voice is animated as she chats with Cade, telling him all about story time at school and the project she brought home from Miss Melinda’s. They chat for about ten minutes—just long enough for me to get the counters wiped down and the dishes loaded into the dishwasher. I walk into the living room and find Haley leaning so close to the laptop, her face—well,
her nose and mouth, anyway—takes up the entire portion of her side of the screen.

“Move back, baby. Uncle Cade can see you better that way.”

“I was giving him a kiss, though.”

I huff out a laugh. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and say bye? It’s time to get your jammies on.”

“Bye, Uncle Cade. Talk to ya later!”

“Love you, short stuff.”

“Love you, too!”

“Remember, no messing around, or we won’t have time to read a book tonight,” I call after her fleeing form. A brief wave of her arm is the only response I get, and I plop on the couch, rolling my eyes. “Already with the sass.”

“Gee, wonder where she gets that from.”

I look up at the screen, Cade’s smiling face filling it. He looks good. Ever since Winter got back a couple months ago, he’s been better, happier. And he loves his job, which helps things. I’m so happy for him, that he got this amazing opportunity right out of school. But, God, I miss him.

“Even though this is Skype, I can still hang up on you, you know,” I say.

“So we’re in a bad mood tonight, then.”

“I’m not . . .”

“What’s up?”

Shaking my head, I answer, “Nothing.”

“Tessa, this isn’t like talking on the phone. I can actually see your face. You’ve never been able to lie to me. Now, what’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing. I’m just . . . feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“With work?”

“And Haley and home stuff and . . .” I sigh and slump back on the couch. “Life.”

He frowns, his brow furrowed, and I know without his saying anything that he’s feeling guilty for leaving me. And that makes me feel even worse.

I sit up and lean forward again, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t. Don’t even start that. This is
my
fault, not yours. I just haven’t found my groove yet.” I shake my head, closing my eyes as I rub them with my fingers. “It’s been a bad week. Tuesday, I was late getting Haley again, and then I fell asleep on the couch. Haley got into my makeup—which I didn’t even know about until the next morning when I saw the pile it was in under the sink.”

“If she got into your shit, how could you not know? That girl loves painting her face like a clown.”

“Jason must’ve cleaned her up before putting her to bed.”

Cade’s eyebrows lift to nearly his hairline. “Jase?”

“Yeah, he stopped by that night. And then . . .” I take a deep breath and close my eyes briefly. I know I have to tell Cade about the pipe—he’d want to know—but voicing my failure
sucks.
“He was here again night before last because, um, the pipe in the bathroom froze and burst.”

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, probably realizing I’m already beating myself up over it and I don’t need his help. Before he can say anything, I continue, “Anyway, I called Jason and he came over. Helped me get the water shut off and called a plumber. It’s all fixed now, but . . . it’s just been an exhausting, taxing week.”

He’s quiet for a minute, just staring at me, then says, “I’m
glad you got everything fixed.” Clearing his throat, he looks off to the side, then back at me. “So, has Jase been stopping by a lot?”

I shrug. “Yeah, ever since you left.”

“Hmm . . .”

Narrowing my eyes at his tone, I ask, “What’s the ‘hmm . . .’ for?”