Read In a Second (Friendship, RI Book 3) By Kate Canterbary Chapter 14 –
Today’s vocabulary word: halfway
By the time we landed in Salt Lake City, I was hot trash. Every muscle held a grudge after nearly six hours crammed between a knitter with stabby elbows and someone who’d claimed the armrest and at least twenty percent of the real estate around it, not to mention the very robust perfume situation behind me. Everything was wrinkled and slightly damp from the recycled air and clammy seat. Hot, hot trash.
The hard cider hadn’t done me any favors either. My brain felt like it was the wrong size for my skull. My belly was annoyed with me even though I usually tolerated cider pretty well and hadn’t eaten anything that should’ve caused a flare. Should’ve being the operative word here. There was nothing more whimsical than an irritable gut, forever selecting the worst times to reject foods that’d long been proven safe and causing all kinds of merry havoc.
I’d kept watch for an opening to grab my meds and a peppermint tea bag from my carry-on without agitating my seatmates, but it never came. The one time I attempted to inch the bag into reach with my feet, the armrest imperialist bumped my knee which sent me into the knitter, who accidentally jabbed me in the side with the butt of her needle. Her apology sounded a lot like a ruler slap to the wrist. No tea for me.
All I did was sit and read—and fend off land wars—but by the end of the flight, I was exhausted like I’d barely finished a wilderness survival race. I needed a hot shower, a soft bed with silky sheets, and forty-eight hours to reincarnate.
I would not be getting that shower. Or the bed. Or any sleep at all.
‘What do you mean, we’re driving to Sedona tonight?’ I ask-shrieked as Jude led me toward the rental car center.
All I’d wanted when I’d stepped off the jetway and into the terminal was a moment alone in a non-aircraft bathroom, hot water for my tea, and some eye contact with the knitter to give her a solid teacher stare.
I’d already doled out justice to the armrest guy. So sad how he was standing too close to me in the aisle to notice when I shouldered my bag and nailed him in the junk with it.
But I had bigger problems on my hands now. Namely, my fake fiancé’s insistence on keeping these good times going with eight hours of driving through the night.
‘Hotels are going to be packed with all these canceled flights,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘No point wasting time when we could hit the road now.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, how about getting some rest?’ I asked. ‘We’ve been awake for almost twenty hours now. There’s a point in sleeping.’
He swept a quick glance over me. ‘I’m good.’ Reaching for my rolling bag, he added, ‘You can sleep. I’ll drive.’
I yanked the bag behind me. ‘I know you want to get there as soon as possible but I don’t think driving on unfamiliar roads at midnight is the best idea.’
‘They’re not unfamiliar to me.’
Right, because Jude knew all the roads. As men always did.
He pried my fingers from the bag’s handle. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I’m getting some tea first,’ I said to his back.
Without glancing back at me, he motioned to the shuttered storefronts throughout the terminal. ‘We’ll stop after we pick up the car.’
I glared after him as he continued following signs for the rental car facility. At the black t-shirt that stretched taut across his shoulders and hugged his biceps in a way that would’ve been gratuitous if it’d been intentional. I didn’t think it was. At the jeans he’d probably owned for at least a decade. At the easy, smug way he maneuvered our bags with one hand. I would’ve pulled off to the side twice by now to straighten out the wheels and cry while people shot annoyed looks at me.
‘Let’s go, Saunders,’ he called.
Despite the fact that I absolutely hated making a scene and drawing attention to myself in public places, I shouted back, ‘It’s not like you’re going to leave me here. I’m kind of important to this operation, in case you’ve forgotten.’
He stopped then and shifted to face me, caring nothing for all the other weary travelers forced to stream around him. A few of them pinged glances between us but most were just as tired, wrinkled, and pouty as I was. They didn’t care.
I stared at him for a minute, my chin tipped up and my arms crossed over my chest. I didn’t know which point I was trying to prove with this but I was committed. Not backing down now. I’d live the rest of my days in this terminal if I had to.
But then he beckoned me, his gaze hard, his tone low as he said, ‘Come here.’
And I went. Jude met me halfway, a scowl carved into his face. He studied me with a slow sweep. When he finally met my eyes, he brushed a ratty strand of hair off my forehead and reached for the bag on my shoulder. ‘Give me this.’
I pulled back. ‘I can handle it by my—’
He closed the distance between us, slipping his fingers under the strap. Against my shoulder. ‘And you should know I haven’t forgotten a fucking thing.’
He dropped a hand to my lower back and steered me forward, and I didn’t say another word.
I didn’t know what that said about me. Or Jude. Or any of this.
Read In a Second (Friendship, RI Book 3) By Kate Canterbary Chapter 15 –
Today’s vocabulary word: appearances
It surprised me not at all that this midnight road trip went off the rails almost immediately.
The car Jude had reserved before we departed from Boston was no longer available and it was obvious he wasn’t a fan of the alternative provided. Engine guys. A very particular lot. It was always something with them.
Road construction brought all traffic around the airport to a standstill. When we were finally free of that, we realized the entire city was closed for the night.
After getting my tea fix and foraging for a hodgepodge of goods at a truck stop an hour outside of Salt Lake, we were on the road again. I pressed my palms to the paper cup and inhaled the minty steam. Sometimes that was enough—or all I could manage. It was exactly what I needed tonight.
The tea settled my stomach and I was feeling better now that I had the air conditioner blowing and the seat warmers switched on. They did not, in fact, cancel each other out. It helped that Jude stayed quiet, sipping his iced coffee and occasionally glaring at the navigation screen while we ate up miles of dark highway.
I’d always imagined that spending time with Jude again would mean immediately falling into deep, earnest conversations where we’d unearth every sad and broken truth we’d carried around all these years. We’d confess everything—but the more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I knew what everything was anymore. And I didn’t know why my daydreams kept missing the mark.
All I knew was that this stilted new reality of ours would crack before the end of the week. If nothing else, I’d crack. Cracking under pressure was one of my specialties. And I guessed that would make it easier to call off this fake wedding.
Another hour or two into the drive, I sensed Jude looking at me. I was half asleep—the best I could manage in a car—with a truck stop hoodie draped over my legs like a blanket and my arms tucked inside my shirt. I blinked when he cleared his throat. My eyes felt sunburned and the taste of perfume stuck to the back of my throat.
‘Do you have any more of those scones?’
I blinked a few more times before I realized he was wearing glasses. Simple, wire-rimmed frames that glinted in the passing light. I dug through my memories, pressing into the moments when I’d been too much of a whiny toddler to notice anything but my exhaustion and trying to find those glasses hiding in there all this time. I didn’t come up with anything. It was just like Jude to spice up his standard uniform of denim and black with something so casually academic.
He’d always been a closeted nerd, after all.
My voice sounded like crushed ice when I said, ‘Yeah. I’ll grab the scones.’
But in my new fixation on those glasses, I forgot I’d swaddled myself. After a minute of wrestling my way out of this homemade straitjacket and remembering how to work my limbs, I dug the container from the bottom of my bag.
‘Shit,’ he muttered.
I glanced up to find road crews and flashing lights ahead. Signs announced construction and detours to come. ‘Is that the way we’re supposed to go?’ I asked. Jude nodded, an impatient noise rattling in the back of his throat. ‘Is it going to take much longer?’
He tapped the navigation system and groaned when the map rerouted. ‘That’s just wrong,’ he grumbled. Our arrival time flipped from nine in the morning to shortly before noon. ‘For fuck’s sake. This has us going all the way down the 15 and cutting around Vegas.’
‘That seems like a big detour,’ I said as I popped open each side of the container. ‘Like, into a whole other state. And the states are big out here. We’re not talking about cutting through Rhode Island to get to Connecticut.’
‘Yeah. We’re not going that way. We’ll take the old country highways and pick up Highway 89 past the construction.’
I glanced at the narrow road ahead of us. ‘You’re telling me this isn’t the old country highway?’ When his only response was a sharp side-eye, I decided to revisit the obvious. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to find somewhere to stop? Even for a few hours?’
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing the glasses up to his forehead. There were greater matters at hand, but I had so many questions about these glasses. I couldn’t wait for the moment when he glared at me over the rims. Because he would, and it’d scratch some kind of nostalgic itch I didn’t know I had. I really needed Jamie to explain to me what was happening here.
She’d say something about uncovering my kinks and that it was about damn time I got around to it.
‘My mother has planned this week down to the hour. We’ve already missed one dinner party and now we’re going to miss the red rock Jeep tour she booked for tomorrow. Today. Whenever the fuck.’
‘I get that,’ I said carefully. ‘But it’s really going to mess with the schedule if we veer off the road and die in a ditch.’
He exhaled for an entire minute. ‘We’re not dying in a ditch tonight. I’ve driven from the naval air station in northern Nevada to my mom’s place. Twice. I know these roads, even in the dark, and the conditions are good.’
‘Okay, yes, I appreciate the optimism, but you should know I’m halfway through a couple of Netflix series that I hate. If I die before finding out how they end, I’m going to haunt you forever.’
He laughed and rattled the ice in his coffee cup. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. Might be nice to see you do the chasing for once.’
I couldn’t decide if that was a joke or a jab or something else altogether. I just knew it landed in a tender place that made my belly swoop. I held out the scones. ‘A few of them fell apart but those two on top are in good shape.’
Jude took one that’d broken and ate it in two bites. He went for another piece, humming as he chewed. ‘These are incredible.’
There was a note of admiration in his voice I hadn’t expected. I hadn’t let it bother me that he’d passed on the scones yesterday morning. Not everyone favored scones. Some didn’t fully understand where they existed on the muffin-biscuit-bread spectrum.
But I’d wanted him to try them. A small, mostly pathetic part of me wanted him to be impressed. To take something I’d made from my own two hands and an alarmingly large collection of cookbooks, and appreciate it. I wanted him to see me do something right.
And when he did, nothing could force the smile off my face. My cheeks burned. My throat tightened. If I let myself, I’d cry. I had to look out the window to keep myself from flailing under his praise. Or throwing myself at him.
‘How’s Cassidy these days?’ he asked.
I stifled a groan. That killed my silly grin. Most of the time, I didn’t think about my younger sister at all—and I knew the sentiment swung both ways. She probably had her hands full with harassing baristas who weren’t nice enough to her and blaming mental health disorders on sunscreen or something. ‘Married. Two kids. Lives in Palm Beach.’
‘Sounds like things are still going well between you two?’ he asked with a chuckle.
Cassidy’s claim to fame was being a two-faced agent of evil skilled enough to switch between backstabbing and playing the victim on a second’s notice. I never understood how anyone took her seriously but that didn’t make her any less vicious. She’d had a girls’ volleyball coach more or less run out of the state by the time she was twelve. All because the coach made her run an extra lap after cutting corners the first time around.
My parents adored her. They’d gotten it right with her, or so they liked to say. It helped that she was the blank slate they wanted, if we didn’t count the faked fragility. Sometimes I wondered if that was the true basis of their value system.
Either way, Cassidy delivered a stunning performance of the loving little sister role throughout my high school years while secretly gathering enough information to end my life as I knew it. She found out about my IUD, about the hours spent at Semantic when I’d claimed to be at the dance studio, and our plan to go to New York City together after graduation. Then, in the spirit of her profound ‘concern’ for me, she made sure my parents knew too.
I’d go to my grave with my jaw clamped around that grudge.
‘She married a guy named Holter and named her kids Holt and Cassen.’
‘Originality was never her strength.’ Pointing to the scones, he asked, ‘It’s maple, pecan, and what else?’
‘Oatmeal,’ I said.
‘Do you make them in any other flavors?’ Jude took the container from me and nestled it on the center console. ‘Percy’s obsessed with chocolate right now, which isn’t good for anyone, but he’d go for this without the nuts. He has no use for nuts unless they’re ground into a spreadable form.’
‘Um. Well.’ I fussed with the seat warmer settings. It was weird getting exactly what I wanted. It happened so rarely that I didn’t know how to wrap my arms around it. ‘Seasonal flavors, usually, or whatever I have around the house.’
He grabbed another broken bit, nodding to himself as he ate. ‘These are the best scones I’ve ever had, Saunders.’
‘And you’ve had many scones?’
He glanced over, a grin I’d never be able to forget stretched across his face. ‘Enough to know.’
I smoothed out the hoodie and tucked my arms back inside my shirt, and I burrowed so deep that Jude wouldn’t notice another smile I couldn’t wipe off my face.
Read In a Second (Friendship, RI Book 3) By Kate Canterbary Chapter 16 – Today’s vocabulary word: provisions
As the night faded into the early shoots of dawn, we passed through towns with names like Anderson Junction and Hurricane and Booze Crossing, each one feeling more remote than the last. In some, the population only numbered in the hundreds. I wondered aloud whether I’d like living in such a small community. I liked small towns like the one Shay lived in, but I didn’t want to be isolated.
Jude listened but never offered his take.
We stopped for gas at one point. I headed straight for the restroom and offered all my gratitude to the patron saint of excellent sanitation practices. When I emerged with provisions, I found Jude with the car’s hood popped, a little penlight snagged between his teeth as he examined something.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked, trying to keep the wariness out of my voice.
He pulled the penlight from his mouth, clicking it off. ‘Yeah, we’re fine.’ He didn’t sound too convinced. ‘Just a minor issue. Nothing to worry about.’
I nodded, not reassured but willing to take his word for it. It wasn’t like I had a better solution.
We weren’t on the road an hour before Jude took an exit for Grandwood Valley. The sunrise was almost upon us with fingers of blinding light edging into the horizon and turning the incredible red rock formations into deep, radiant colors.
Jude steered the car toward another gas station—or a building that’d started as a gas station and had lived through several identity crises and construction projects. He parked in front of the station’s garage bays and immediately popped the hood, his focus already zeroed in on the task at hand.
Jude didn’t say anything about the car trouble and I didn’t ask. I knew how he zoomed in on problems and how he had trouble zooming out until he had a solution.
I climbed out to stretch my legs. It was good to breathe clean mountain air, the sharp scents of pine and mesquite trees heavy on a breeze. Even with the last dregs of night still lingering to the west, it was hot here. The afternoon sun would be toasty.
I paced away when Jude pulled a tablet from his backpack. Whatever this was would take a minute.
Red dust edged the road where scrubby brush grew in spite of itself. I could see small structures spread out across the valley and climbing into the rocky foothills. Houses and stables, maybe. We’d passed signs announcing river rafting and rodeo events in the area.
People lived in this town and they traveled here to visit, though it seemed as though we were alone. The only sign of life came from the cars and trucks passing on the highway. Probably for the best since my hair felt like I hadn’t washed all the soap out, I smelled like the back of an earlobe, and crumbs rained from my clothes with every step. I wasn’t fit for meeting the locals.
When I made my way back to Jude, my cheeks already warm from the heat, I found him with his arms folded over his chest and a murderous glare aimed under the hood.
‘I’m guessing it’s not a minor issue anymore,’ I said.
‘We’re going to be here awhile,’ he said.
If there was one thing I knew to be true, it was that Jude Bellessi could fix anything.
I learned today that this superpower didn’t include corroded engine plugs.
Another thing I learned: cars had a ton of different computerized plugs and they couldn’t be swapped in and out for each other like extension cords. Apparently, this part was unique to this car model, and though he tried, Jude couldn’t make it work with any of the options available at the garage.
That left us stranded here in Grandwood Valley until the rental agency could send someone out with a new vehicle for us. They’d promised a replacement by noon and, the naïve children we were, Jude and I believed them.
We went down the road to a diner that sold meat from a walk-up window. We devoured an amazing breakfast and stared at the table with zombie eyes for an hour. Then we waited on a bench outside the gas station, boldly expecting that new car as promised.
The owner of the gas station, a man who swore up and down that his name really was Woody Grandwood, prodded us to explore the county fair. He promised to call if the replacement showed up—we should’ve noticed how he kept saying if—and said we’d find a good time there.
We didn’t go to the fair. We waited on that bench as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Noon came and went. Then one o’clock and two. Jude had several intense conversations with the agency, and every time, they insisted someone was on their way and was scheduled to arrive within thirty minutes. And then another thirty minutes. And another.
I plugged in my phone after forgetting about it last night and discovered dozens of missed calls, voicemails, and texts from my mother. She wanted to strategize for my get-together with Brecken Wilhamsen—which she’d decided would happen at a garden party in the Hamptons next month—and casually, gently invited me to join her for some shopping.
I took that as a sign my mother had something big invested in making it work with me and Brecken. She wasn’t one for gentle invitations. She preferred to inform me of these things and then lash out with an inventory of my most significant flaws when I didn’t immediately fall in line. Maybe it was the delirium setting in but I couldn’t believe that I’d ever let that fly. Even to avoid confrontation and keep the peace, blindly submitting wasn’t doing me any good.
I replied with a quick message reminding her that I was traveling and then tied up with Emme’s wedding, and we’d figure this out afterward.
Woody Grandwood strolled out of the gas station office and tipped his chin up in greeting. ‘Give me a day and I’ll get that part ordered up for you,’ he said, hooking his thumb toward the car.
‘The replacement should be here any—’ Jude glanced at his watch. It read five fifteen. ‘What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with this company? They were thirty minutes away three hours ago.’
‘They probably don’t have enough cars to send one out here and another to bring the driver back,’ Woody said. ‘It’s high season. They run out of cars all the time.’ He pulled a phone from the back pocket of his worn jeans. ‘I’ll call over to the motel and tell ’em you’re coming, and then order that part. Probably be here tomorrow, maybe the day after.’
‘The day after?’ Jude repeated, the words low and brutal.
Woody shrugged. ‘We get deliveries when we get deliveries. All there is to it.’
‘We need to leave now,’ Jude said, pushing to his feet. ‘There has to be another option.’
‘Don’t think there is.’ Woody glanced down the road, scratching his chin. ‘But now you can see about that fair.’
Read In a Second (Friendship, RI Book 3) By Kate Canterbary Chapter 17 –
Today’s vocabulary word: booked
I stopped listening to everything after motel. I’d been awake, more or less, for thirty-six hours. As long as there was a bed waiting for me the details didn’t matter.
I barely noticed the fifteen-minute walk from the gas station to the motel or the intense desert air transforming me into a sun-dried tomato with every breath. My pants and shoes had turned brick red from the dusty road, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Everything would be better after a long, hard month of sleep.
I perched on my suitcase and stared at the surrounding mountains while Jude arranged for our rooms in this long, concrete block of a motel. I carried on a small debate with myself—would I shower first or sleep?—and didn’t notice him talking to me until he dropped a hand on my shoulder and gave me a shake.
‘Don’t pass out on me now,’ he rumbled.
‘Hardly,’ I replied, though I had some doubts about standing up again. My god, it was so embarrassing to be alive. ‘Are we all set?’
He glanced down the row of doors bordering a parking lot filled with pickup trucks. ‘There’s only one room.’
I stared up at him, my mind gummy. ‘What?’
He held up a single diamond-shaped plastic keychain. ‘One room. It’s all they have. Everything’s booked for the fair.’
My butt fell asleep as I processed this, and I wobbled on the suitcase. Jude grabbed my elbow and he didn’t let go when I tried to shake him off. I didn’t try very hard. I didn’t actually want him to go. ‘It’s not like we have any other options.’
That…was not going to work. I needed somewhere to exist without him. I needed to be able to breathe and not wait to see his reaction to it. And, my god, I needed my own bathroom. The plain truth was the girls who had janky guts required our own bathrooms. We needed a private space where we could take all the time in there necessary without concern for how it could impact anyone else.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘I’ll come up with a solution tomorrow.’
‘Not your fault,’ I mumbled. ‘Let’s just go.’
He gave a slow, tight nod and we started toward the far end of the motel, our rolling bags bumping along beside us. When we reached the door, I leaned against the wall and decided I’d wash up first. There was nothing worse than climbing into bed and feeling grimy.
Jude gathered the bags and motioned for me to enter the room. The damp smell hit me right away, which was comical since everything was so dry here. But where a second bed would’ve been, I found an empty bed frame and a large trash can positioned under a hole in the ceiling.
I hadn’t moved more than a step inside the doorway and Jude stumbled into me, his arm settling around my waist as he said, ‘What the—’
I pointed to the trash can, surrounded by the ancient metal frame. ‘I’m guessing this is why they had a room available on short notice when everything else was booked?’
‘Fuck.’ The word fell out of him on a sigh as his hold on my waist shifted, his fingers flexing. ‘Just…fuck.’
A loud plink sounded and I wrinkled my nose at the trash can. ‘I know I didn’t ask any clarifying questions about this room but I guess I just figured it would have two beds and zero roof leaks. Was that wrong?’
That seemed to remind him that his hands were getting real comfortable on my body. He cleared his throat and stepped away all at once.
‘No.’ He closed the door and stayed there, his hand flattened on the panel. ‘You can have the bed’—we both glanced at the queen bed draped in a slippery-looking coverlet—’and I’ll take the floor.’
‘I know you think I’m some kind of stone-cold evil bitch, but I’m not letting you do that. At a minimum, there’s bacteria and fungus down there. Probably some MRSA too.’ I waved a hand at the bed, hopefully dry and short on fungus. ‘We can be adults about this. At least for tonight. We’ll make it work.’
Jude stared at me for a long moment, his brows arched high like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. I couldn’t believe anything about the past day and a half. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was one big, messy dream and I was a minute away from waking up.
When that didn’t happen, Jude said, ‘I need to make some calls. Let my mother know we won’t be there tonight.’
‘Yeah. Okay. You do that,’ I said, realizing in pieces that we’d be sleeping together in this room. In this bed. Together. All night. After we took off our clothes and changed into pajamas and—my god, what if Jude didn’t sleep in pajamas? What if he’d turned into one of those men who slept naked? He’d wear boxers for my benefit. But maybe he’d abandoned boxers in his earlier years and made the switch to boxer briefs or regular old briefy briefs—or some other style I didn’t know about because having that much information about a man wasn’t one of my top thousand priorities. I’d be sleeping beside him and that new underwear. Images raced through my mind of Jude as a paper doll, each version of him dressed only in different types of undies—and the glasses. Always the glasses.
And saying my scones were the best. That too.
I slapped a hand over my eyes as if that would make any of this go away. All I knew was I had to stop thinking about his underwear.
On second thought, the floor didn’t look so bad.
He yanked my hand away from my face. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just…trying to remember if I know anyone in this part of the world who also has a helicopter handy or a driver on staff. Or, just a lot of sympathy.’ I didn’t meet his eyes. Couldn’t. ‘No one comes to mind.’
I felt him staring at me. Studying me. Probably waiting for a non-ridiculous answer. ‘Are you hungry? Do you want me to get anything for you? There’s not much around here, but I could swing back to the diner.’
The diner food was incredible and I ate like it was my last meal, which meant it would seriously destroy my gut for the next ten to fifteen business days. ‘No, thanks. I’m going to take a shower and then get some sleep.’
He nodded but lingered by the door. ‘I am sorry about this, Saunders.’
I waved him off. ‘Eh, you enjoy seeing me suffer.’
Jude gazed at me for a second but didn’t disagree. Because it was true. Then, ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’
I watched as he closed the door behind him and then let my attention wander back to the bed.
‘It won’t be that bad,’ I said to the empty room. ‘I hope.’
