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CHAPTER THREE

ELENA

Jake is a full ten minutes early when he pulls up in front of my house on Thursday. He’s in the same green Jeep Cherokee he drove when I was in high school, and I remember him pulling double shifts at the Kwik Trip to be able to afford it.

My bags are mostly packed by the front door, but I’m still rummaging through my closet in search of a swimsuit coverup.

“ él está aquí, mija ,” calls Mamá from the living room.

“Shit,” I whisper, peering through my blinds. What kind of person shows up ten minutes early?

Groaning frantically, I grab my bathing suit, coverup, and a pair of flip-flops and hurry to the front door. It’s bad enough that Raf roped Jake into this. I don’t want to keep him waiting.

I especially don’t want my mother to have the chance to ask any awkward questions. She was suspicious when I told her I was taking Jake to the wedding but that the two of us weren’t dating .

Stuffing the flip-flops into the front zip pocket of my suitcase, I grab my purse and start rolling the bag around to head out the door.

“ Te amo, Mamá ,” I say, flinging the door open.

To my surprise, Jake isn’t waiting in the Jeep. He’s standing on my front porch.

“Juana,” he says, inclining his head at my mother.

“Ah, Jake!” Mamá wipes her hands on her apron and wraps her arms around him, beaming from ear to ear. “ Que bueno verte !”

“ Ha pasado demasiado tiempo .”

Mamá beams, but I roll my eyes. It’s been too long?

What has gotten into him? I wonder, staring at Jake as he hugs my mother.

First, he agreed to be my werewolf bodyguard for the entire weekend even though the two of us haven’t spoken in years. Now he comes to the door and chitchats with my mother as though we’re going on a date?

When they finally pull apart, I see Jake looking around our little house with a wistful expression. It looks exactly the same as it did when we were younger — pink walls, plants everywhere, the little St. Francis plaque hanging over the doorway.

And Jake . . . he looks the same. He’s clearly a man now, but standing just inside my living room brings me back to the last time I saw him.

It was my sweet sixteen, and all my friends were there. It was a balmy August night, and everyone was crowded into the backyard. “Something Just Like This” by the Chainsmokers was playing.

My friends and family had just sung me happy birthday and cut the cake. I’d gone to get more forks when Jake walked in the door.

He’d been working that night, which was why he was late.

Not that Jake and I typically hung out. He was always around but separate in the way that older siblings’ friends always were.

He and Raf were too old to be interested in whatever my friends and I were up to, but tonight was special.

It was my birthday. I’d been so excited for my party, and Jake had told me he’d swing by.

I’d been waiting all night for him to arrive, though I never would have admitted it. The party was fine, but I had this feeling that the night wouldn’t be perfect until Jake got there.

“Hey, birthday girl,” he said, beaming at me the way he always did, even though I was Raf’s annoying little sister.

“Hey.” My voice came out thin and breathless. My cheeks were flushed from the heat, and I could feel my hair sticking to the back of my neck. But I was wearing my new pink dress — the one that my mom almost didn’t buy me because it was a little short in the back.

“Good party?” he asked, his voice distant as he took me in with one quick glance. His gaze didn’t linger, but his throat bobbed as his eyes skimmed down my legs.

“Uh-huh.” I licked my lips and shifted my weight in my straw wedge sandals. With the three-inch lift, I was tall enough that if I stood on tiptoe and lifted my chin . . .

Jake cleared his throat. “Got you something.”

“What?” My belly did a little flip. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“It’s your birthday, Lena,” he said with an eye roll. “Of course I got you something.”

The butterflies in my stomach intensified. Jake was the only one who called me that.

Reaching into his back pocket, he produced a tiny box — a tiny wrapped box. My heart squeezed at the image of Jake’s big fingers wrangling Scotch tape and tying the little pink ribbon.

Unable to hold back my smile, I undid the ribbon and tore the paper off to reveal a soft blue velvet box. My hands trembled as I opened it up, and my breath caught in my chest.

Inside was a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny charm in the shape of a sun.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, staring down at the bracelet in amazement. No one had ever given me jewelry, unless one counted the hoop earrings I’d begged my mom to get me for Christmas.

This was different. This was jewelry from a guy. It had to mean something, right?

“It’s for your name,” he said, his voice coming out slightly strangled. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought that Jake was nervous. But that couldn’t be right.

He cleared his throat. “Lena means ‘ray of light.’”

“It’s . . .” I shook my head and fumbled with the box to get the bracelet out. It was so pretty and delicate, and it was from Jake . I wanted to wear it immediately.

“Here,” he said, his warm fingers closing around my wrist.

That’s when my heart stopped beating.

I tried to breathe as Jake worked the clasp, but my lungs wouldn’t expand. The gold chain felt cool against my overheated skin, and when he was finished, Jake’s fingertips lingered on the inside of my wrist.

“Thank you,” I whispered. The bracelet was real gold. I could only imagine how many shifts he’d had to work to afford it.

“Don’t mention it.” It should have been a throwaway line, but I knew it wasn’t. The way he’d said it — the way he’d whispered it — made everything around us fall away.

I was feeling bolder than normal. Carmen had gotten her older sister to buy us some Rum Chata for my birthday, and I’d had a couple of shots.

I didn’t overthink it. I just reached up on tiptoe, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips against his.

I heard Jake’s sharp intake of breath. His lips were warm yet unyielding.

Then I felt his hands on my shoulders, and he pushed me away.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, heat searing my cheeks.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“Elena,” he said, sounding horrified.

His use of my full name told me just how badly I’d fucked up. I’d kissed Jake. His eyes were wide as he wiped his mouth, as though he wanted to erase the kiss from his body and memory. “We can’t.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t —” Tears burned in the back of my throat, but I couldn’t cry in front of Jake. “I have to go,” I muttered, turning and sprinting back toward the kitchen.

“Lena, wait!”

But I didn’t wait. I ran.

That was the last time I saw Jake Carson.

“I’m ready,” I say quietly, yanking myself out of the hazy nightmare.

I’m not sure how polite to be to Jake, all things considered. My sixteenth birthday is ancient history — he probably doesn’t even remember it. I know he thinks he’s doing me a favor by offering himself up as my chaperone.

On the other hand, he’s participating in Raf’s plan to control me for the rest of my life, so my feelings toward him aren’t super warm. At least, they shouldn’t be .

“ Diviertete y ten cuidado ,” says my mom as I wrestle my suitcase over the threshold.

I roll my eyes. Have fun and be careful. Mom’s been saying the exact same thing to me since I was twelve. “Always am, Mamá.”

“ No te preocupes , Juana,” says Jake, reaching down and grabbing my suitcase by the handle. He also takes the garment bag I have slung over the arm of the couch.

Mamá beams at him.

I bite the tip of my tongue to hold back a grin at Jake telling my mother not to worry. He’s always made an effort to speak Spanish at my house since my mom’s self-conscious about her English. It started with a few broken lines that she would patiently correct, and now he’s actually decent.

Suddenly, it hits me how much Jake was over here. He spent more time at my house than he did at home.

I follow Jake out to his Jeep. He doesn’t even glance toward the house next door. Another family lives there now, but the house is exactly the same. I climb into the front seat as he loads my suitcase in the back, trying to relax.

I’m doing okay until Jake slides in beside me, filling the inside of the Jeep with his familiar scent. Jake smells like clean laundry and some delicious aftershave he wears, but there’s also a warm spicy scent that is unique to him.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I tell him quietly. This is my last chance to bail.

“Do what?” he asks, looking confused.

“Give up your weekend to go to a wedding for people you barely know. I shouldn’t have let Raf rope you into this. ”

“He didn’t,” says Jake, flashing that easy smile that makes me weak in the knees and draping a hand over the steering wheel.

I shoot him a disbelieving look, and he chuckles. The sound rumbles through my whole body, warming my insides.

Shit. Apparently, six years and a traumatic brain injury aren’t enough to make a person immune to attraction. Jake still makes me all tingly and stupid inside.

“Like I said, it’ll be fun. Open bar. Good food. Dancing. ” He looks over at me and lifts an eyebrow. “I know how much you love dancing .”

My lips twist into a smile despite my best efforts. I’ve been dancing since I was three. I was training to start my career as a professional ballet dancer when the accident brought my dream to a grinding halt.

For a while, no one knew if I’d ever walk again — let alone dance. Traumatic brain injuries can cause a lot of crazy symptoms, and some can linger for years.

A year after my TBI, I was still struggling with balance, which meant a career as a prima ballerina was out. So I transferred to the Boston Conservatory at Berklee to study contemporary dance.

“And I do know Carmen,” Jake adds. “You two were thick as thieves when we were younger.”

I raise my eyebrows. I’d been looking forward to Carmen’s wedding for the better part of a year, but with Jake, I don’t know how to act.

He might not remember my sweet sixteen, but I sure as hell do.

I’m not that girl anymore, but I still feel the sting of his rejection and the heat of embarrassment as though it were yesterday .

“I’m yours for the weekend,” says Jake, his grin widening.

I try not to read too much into those words. If Jake only knew the thoughts running through my mind, he’d turn this car around.

Nope, not going there, I tell myself, tearing my gaze away from his stupidly gorgeous face.

Whatever Jake felt or didn’t feel for me is in the past. I have to stay in the present and protect my heart.