Page 8 of Our Moon (JACT #1)

I’m in the kitchen, taking a sheet of chocolate chip caramel cookies out of the oven, when Chase comes in the back door.

“Hey, Al,” he says as he steps inside and wipes his feet on the doormat. It rained earlier in the day, and the patio is still wet.

“Oh, hey, Chase. The guys aren’t home. Alex is with Joey, and Trevor just ran out to the store to get me an ingredient I forgot for dinner.” I set the cookie sheet down on the hot pad and turn to face him as he pauses in his path to the man room and turns around.

“Okay, I guess I’ll come back in a little while then.

” He gives me a shy smile and heads back to the door.

For some reason, I don’t want him to go.

Since we spoke the handful of words to one another the night of my culinary school announcement, I haven’t wanted to avoid him as much, but for some unknown reason, things still seem strained.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I ignored him for weeks after the pool/dinner incident.

“You can stay,” I tell him quickly. “I don’t mind. This is the last batch. I just need to put them on the cooling rack and then maybe we can go watch TV or something while you wait for the guys to get back?”

He looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out, then nods his acceptance to my offer. “Okay, anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so, thanks, though. Why don’t you go find something to watch, and I’ll be in there in a minute?” I pick up the small spatula I’ve been using to gently remove the cookies from the sheet.

He nods again, still looking at me strangely, and heads to the man room.

I hear the TV turn on and finally exhale.

I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.

There’s just something about him. I shake the feeling off, reminding myself that I can’t even think about going there with my brother’s best friend, my brothers’ brother. But I can at least play nice with him .

I move the cookies from the sheet to the cooling rack. After plating a few and pouring a couple glasses of milk, I make my way to the man room with the tray full of goodies. Chase immediately gets up to help me, and I smile my thanks as I hand over the tray.

“These smell delicious,” he says as he sets them down on the folding tray table I pulled out from the rack beside the entertainment center.

“Thanks, I came up with the recipe myself,” I tell him. “Well, I picked apart a few different recipes to form this one recipe.”

“So this is a Frankenstein cookie?” he asks as he lifts one to his mouth. That mouth… Full lips concealing perfectly white teeth. Sigh.

“Ha ha. If you’re too afraid to try my concoction, you don’t have to,” I tease. Am I flirting with him? Stop it, Ally!

Chase grins, letting me know he was only teasing, and shoves the entire cookie in his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so gross,” I laugh.

He smiles as he chews. Then he closes his eyes and groans. And my heart. Just. Stops.

“This is so good, Ally,” he moans through his chewing.

My mind is completely in the gutter now as I stare at him, completely unabashed.

I’m sure if his eyes were open, instead of closed in cookie ecstasy, he would see the pure hunger I have for him, not the cookies, in my eyes as I sit here and imagine the various other situations where I would love to hear him say those words.

I try to shake it off but not before he opens his eyes and catches me staring at him. When his eyes widen, I know he sees what I was hoping he wouldn’t. I catch a similar look in his eyes before I turn my head away and shove a cookie in my own mouth.

Not my best move, that’s for sure, especially when I start choking on a crumb. I quickly swallow down the cookie in my mouth with a chug of milk and proceed to try and cough out the crumb.

Chase pats my back. “You okay?” he asks, concern etching his voice.

I nod as I take another sip of milk. “Wrong pipe,” I rasp out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see a small grin on his face.

I’m so embarrassed. If I thought it was embarrassing having Chase witness my anxiety attack, this is so much worse.

First, he catches me looking like I want to eat him.

Then, he watches me stuff a whole cookie into my mouth and proceed to choke on it.

This is just great. Why can’t I just be normal?

“There are some reruns of Storage Wars on TV, you used to love this show.” I look over at him in shock.

That’s it? He isn’t going to point out the obvious?

He’s just going to let it all slide and not say anything to further humiliate me?

He looks from the television back to me and smiles his shy smile again.

“Or we could watch Overhaulin’ ,” he says, referring to the car show he and my oldest brother can’t seem to get enough of.

I laugh, “ Storage Wars it is.” We sit in a surprisingly comfortable silence, eating cookies and watching Darrell and Jarrod battle it out over a locker that contains bedroom furniture of all things.

But no matter how normal the setting, my mind won’t stop racing.

What I felt for Chase just then, I’d never felt that before, at least not in this life.

It felt both good and bad at the same time.

I really have to rein it in though, because nothing can happen there.

Chase must have noticed I was spending more time in my head than in the TV show because he touches his hand to my arm and asks, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I answer, looking up from my lap to the TV. Nothing is wrong, aside from the electricity of his touch, that is.

“You know, if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, you can talk to me.

I know you don’t know me that well, or you feel you don’t, or whatever, but I’m here for you,” he rambles.

“I know I’m not one of your brothers, but if you ever feel you can’t talk to them about something, maybe you can talk to me. ”

I consider what he’s saying as I look into his endless blue eyes.

For some reason, I want to be able to talk to him, to trust him.

I nod my understanding, and he turns back to the TV.

“There is something,” I say quietly, and I have no idea why I’m even bringing this up after what my brothers told me about the song they’d caught me humming, the one that he confessed to playing.

He looks back to me immediately. “Anything. You can talk to me about anything,” he says eagerly.

I look down to my lap again, “The song I was humming that day, the day I had the anxiety attack, and you came in.” I look to him for recognition, and he looks a little tense, but he nods for me to go on. “Alex said you said you play it sometimes and that’s probably how I’d heard it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Would you play it for me?” I ask softly, not wanting to overstep my bounds, but knowing full well I probably have. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I quickly try to retract my question. “Never mind, forget I asked. It’s silly.”

“No, it’s not silly. I’d love to. Play it for you, that is.” I look at him and the expression on his face confuses me. He looks almost pained, but he’s still so damn beautiful.

“Will you tell me about it? ”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you write it?” My brothers said he did, but I want to hear him tell me about it.

“Yeah. Well, the guys helped. But I did the lyrics and came up with most of the melody.”

“Why haven’t you recorded it?”

Now it’s his turn to look down. “It’s personal. It just didn’t feel right at the time, not something I, we, wanted to share with the world. Maybe someday,” he says as he looks back up into my eyes.

Gosh, they were right. It was personal. He must have written it about a woman, someone who he loved or who broke his heart, or both.

And here I am, asking him to relive that for me.

“You don’t have to play it for me. It’s personal, I get that.

I’ve just been having these dreams,” I realize what I’ve just said and stop talking immediately, closing my eyes tight.

I can’t believe I brought up the dreams!

“Dreams? What dreams?” he asks, lifting his right knee up on the couch and turning his body in to face me. I’m momentarily dazed by his proximity.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something or you wouldn’t have brought it up,” he points out.

I sigh, knowing that he’s right. I don’t want to talk to my brothers about my dreams, but maybe I could talk to Chase. “There have been a few dreams since I got out of the coma. Recurring dreams I guess you could say. In one, there’s a song. I just wonder if it’s the same one.”

“What are the other ones about?” he asks, that same strange look on his face.

“I don’t want to talk about those,” I say, quickly looking away.

He nods. “Okay. Well, I’ll play the song for you. If it will help you, I’d be happy to do it.”

I give him a small smile. “Thanks. I think it will give me peace of mind, you know? To be able to identify the song? And if it’s not ‘Our Moon,’ then I’m back to the drawing board.” Been hanging out there a lot lately.

He nods again, but doesn’t say anything else. We return to watching TV in silence, leaving me to wonder when he’ll play the song for me. I don’t want to ask, as it already seems this won’t be an easy thing for him to do and he’s being kind enough to do it anyway.

Our silence is broken when Trevor returns from the store. I quickly thank Chase for keeping me company and hurry off to the kitchen to get started on dinner. When he’s ready to play the song, he will come to me.

***

As it turns out, I don’t have to wait too long for Chase to come to me. That evening, I’m lying in a chaise by the pool after dinner, just staring up at the moon and the stars. Alex is still out with Joey, and Trevor had a date, so I’m all alone at the house.

I startle when I hear footsteps approaching me, not sure of who it might be. I look over my shoulder and see Chase approaching with his guitar. “Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” he says back. He sits on the chaise beside mine, sets the guitar on his lap, and starts playing. No introduction, no nothing. He just sits down and begins.

The music, it’s beautiful, and it’s just what I remember from my dreams. But the lyrics, the lyrics are what I’ve been missing all this time. They complete the song and add a whole new range of emotions.

Lying here with you,

It’s better than I imagined it would be.

Waiting here with you,

How worthwhile I know it will be.

Under our moon,

Promises made.

Under our moon,

A love I wish had stayed.

Now you’re gone ,

But not that far away.

You’ll come back,

It’s all I ever pray.

Under our moon,

Promises made.

Under our moon,

A love I wish had stayed.

I’m left here missing you,

And no one understands.

The pain I feel every day,

It’s all in someone else’s hands.

Under our moon,

Promises made.

Under our moon,

A love I wish had stayed.

Baby, come back to me,

And happy we will be.

Baby, please,

Please just find your way,

Until then, forever yours I will stay .

He doesn’t hide the emotion in his eyes when he looks up at me as he finishes the song, the song that he sang like a plea.

The man is clearly in pain, so I can tell there’s truth behind the lyrics.

Whoever this woman is, I’m not so sure she deserves him, if she left him like the song clearly insinuates.

I want to know everything about this song, but I don’t have the heart to ask him to open wounds that are obviously still so fresh.

He looks at me for another moment before nodding once, getting up, and walking off. I sit there, stunned at his abrupt departure, watching his retreating form, before lying back on the chaise and looking up at the night sky again.

For some reason, the moon looks different than it did a few moments ago.