Page 13

Jax

I watch Mason go about his morning, listening as he talks to me about wishing he could stay home instead with me, his prized pumpkin. I’ll admit, the sweet sentiment makes my stump vibrate and my little vines want to come out and wrap themselves around his legs and never let him leave.

He carries me from the bed to the kitchen table so I can watch him make coffee and eat breakfast, chatting up a one- sided storm. I appreciate his attempts to make me feel human, nonetheless, because I’m not.

It’s my birthday today, and I never even told him. Not that I expect it would have changed anything for either of us. Besides, what man wants to admit he’s officially on the other side of his thirties?

Thirty was bad enough, now I’m officially thirty-one and a pumpkin? Ugh, worst birthday ever.

“Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” Mason wisecracks, and I wish I could laugh. I mean, how much trouble can one person get into if they are, you know, a pumpkin? It’s not like I’m gonna grow pumpkin vine legs and walk away or something.

I do my best to give off good vibes, wishing there was some way for pumpkins to telepathically communicate or something, even if it is just a Jack-O-Lantern thing.

Mason grabs his keys, kisses my stump, and then he leaves.

The place is always unnaturally quiet without him around, but the silence this morning is decidedly more ominous.

When the door opens, I perk up, hoping maybe Mason forgot something, or even more embarrassing, hoping he picks me up and takes me with him.

But I am soon ripped of all my good thoughts and vibes, because it’s not Mason who walks into the kitchen.

It’s Grandpa.

What the…

“There ya’ are,” he says in his gruff, stern voice. He gets closer, and I try with all my might to make myself move, to roll off the counter and out of the room.

The feeling of helplessness pervades, because I can’t do anything. Grandpa scoops me up with ease.

No, no, no. He shouldn’t be here. My insides flutter with alarm as he starts walking, and I realize two things at once: That my sweet, old Grandpa apparently knows how to break into homes, and that I’m truly never going to see Mason again, even as a pumpkin.

When we get into the truck, he sets me on the seat next to him. Panic laces through me, and I feel like if I had eyes, I’d be bawling them out right about now. Grandpa sighs as he turns the truck on.

“This all could have been avoided, you know, if ya listened to your dear old Grandpa in the first place.”

How dare he pin this situation on me! I didn’t ask for this stupid family curse.

The car starts, and I roll on the seat as it moves.

“I told ya, if you found yer mate before your birthday, you wouldn’t have to go through this, but no.

You insisted every chance you got that ya didn’t want to settle down.

” He grips the steering wheel tightly, looking straight through the windshield at the rising sun.

“But the truth is, son, that if ya would have found yourself a nice girl, like yer daddy did, like I did, like my father did …”

He sighs, and for a split second, I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Ain’t none of us ever chose to be as stubborn as you, and now look at you.”

The words cut deep, and I want to yell, to scream. But I can’t do shit, because I’m a fucking gourd.

He turns to raise a thick eyebrow at me. “Least you ain’t talking back to me now.”

Fuck you, Grandpa.

“Annie might think that man’s little stunt is enough, but I think you and I both know it ain’t,” he says gruffly. The car stops, but he doesn’t move immediately. Instead he picks me up, holding me in front of him.

“Happy Birthday, Jax,” he says, and I think I see his eyes glisten a bit. His voice shakes, and my insides feel cold and hard. Not warm and gooey as I know they should.

“Well, at least you’re home where you belong,” he says softly, and with that he opens the car door, and carries me off to the farm.

All I can think about is the fact I never told Mason I loved him when I had the chance.