Junk Miles (Brenna Blixen, #2)

Junk Miles:
A Brenna Blixen Novel
Book 2
by
Liz Reinhardt
© 2011 by Liz Reinhardt
All Rights Reserved worldwide under the Berne Convention. May not be copied or distributed without prior written
permission.
Cover design by Steven Peterson
Junk Miles: many miles run at a slow pace, attributed to a training strategy by runners
who confuse high mileage counts with improvement
Chapter One
My mother is one of the most thoughtful, loving, caring women in the world. That
doesn’t mean that she’s dumb, and it doesn’t mean that she’s nice.
I should add that I have no respect for nice mothers, at least not if you use the common
teenage definition of “nice.” My mom doesn’t look the other way when I do something she
doesn’t like. She doesn’t try to fit in with friends she doesn’t approve of, or with any of my
friends at all, for that matter. My mom has high expectations for me, and she drives me with a
huge mixture of lo ve, neurotic pressure and guilt. A whole lot of guilt.
This complicated theory ran through my mind Christmas morning, while my head was
still bent down, my eyes fixed on the open box on my lap. I had split seconds to come up with
the appropriate face for my mom and Thorsten, my step-father, and I knew that my initial
feelings of shock and disappointment were in no way appropriate. My mother had done exactly
what she was best at.
She had rocked my world with her generosity and cunning.
I hope I can one day be that good.
I made my eyes wide, opened my mouth, and shook my head. “Paris?  Paris!” I grasped
the ticket in my hand and jumped up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I hugged her tight.
And I was thankful and genuinely excited.
Mom smiled and kissed me hard. I could feel her triumph. Because this wasn’t exactly
what it seemed.
Mom had plotted this out with all the intelligence of a military tactician, and that was
why there was no chance of moping or sulking. I had always wanted to go to Paris, and there was
no one in the world I wanted to go with more than Mom.
But there was more to it than just that. I told Mom and Thorsten about my super sexy,
super awesome boyfriend Jake a few months back, and they had handled it really well; no
yelling, no threats, no unreasonable restrictions. They had even included him in things. Jake went
out with us for my birthday, they gave him a gift on his, invited him over for Thanksgiving, and
he was coming over for Christmas dinner later on this evening. I didn’t t ake advantage of their
willingness to be nice about Jake. I am, after all, my mother’s daughter, and I knew that I had to
keep Jake distanced from them or they would start to find things about him that weren’t good
enough for me. Well, Mom would start to find things. Because Jake isn’t exactly what she wants
for me, and my mother does not even consider second best when it comes to me.
I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s still constricting. And since I wanted to
stay with Jake, I limited the time I spent with him, even though my body physically ached with
the need to be near him sometimes. Cheesy as it might sound, that’s the best way I can explain it.
I thought I had done a pretty good job of disguising just how obsessed I was with him and how
deliciously he had taken over my life.
But Mom started watching me, exactly the way I knew she would. She looked for
anything that would provide evidence that Jake was breaking my heart, making me sad, keeping
me up too late, stopping me from pursuing my interests, hogging me from other friends, or any
other trumped-up charge. In her mind, she filed any shred of evidence away to digest later.
If I woke up with dark circles under my eyes because Jake and I had an amazing
conversation on the phone the night before, Mom narrowed her eyes and made a mental check. If
I arranged to go out with Kelsie and she cancelled, and I went out with Jake instead, Mom noted
it and frowned. Tiny charges, little details grew and compounded until Mom had, in her mind, a
real reason to orchestrate a campaign against Jake, or at least against me being so wrapped
around him.
Mom was a huge proponent of ‘dating lots of different people,’ ‘keeping your options
open,’ and ‘focusing on yourself.’  All sound good in theory. Until you meet someone like Jake
Kelly and have to think about living without hearing his sweet laugh or smelling the clean, minty
smell of him or feeling his arms tight around you. Thinking about him  made my heart skip and
surge. This was love.
And my mom was no fool. She wasn’t about to drive a wedge between us by harping on
Jake or voicing her neurotic concerns. My mother was too brilliant for that kind of novice work.
“It’s part of a program with the college, honey.” Mom took out a pamphlet and handed it
to me eagerly. “They want to give the professors a chance to scout prospective study abroad
locations before they choose them, so we’re allowed to bring any family and check out the
museums, local universities…oh, sweetie, it’s going to be so incredible.” She hugged me again,
and I took a deep breath.
“Mom, this sounds so great.” I swallowed hard and prepared for the worst. “So, when do
we go?”
“We leave the day after tomorrow! We’ll be gone for a full week, just past your winter
break. I’ve already cleared it at your schools if you need some jet-lag recovery time on the way
back, so don’t worry about that.” She put an arm around me and squeezed me close.
“Mom?” I dug deep and willed up some courage to argue on Jake‘s behalf. She looked at
me and the look was new-knife sharp. I swallowed back my arguments like the weak coward I
often was around her. “I have to pack right now. What’s Paris like in December?”
“Chilly.” The flinty light was gone from her eyes. She took both my hands in hers. “Go
ahead and get packing, honey.”
“Thank you, Mom. So much.” I modulated my voice carefully to keep it happy, and I
hugged her again. “This will be amazing.”
And I hoped that by saying it, I would force myself to mean it. Because as I walked
quickly to my recently redecorated room, I felt the itchy pain of tears pricking behind my eyes. I
tried not to think too hard about the fact that I would miss New Year’s Eve with Jake. It would
have been my first ever romantic New Year’s kiss.
In my room, with its robin’s-egg wall and poppy-covered bed, the Chagall and Cassatt
hanging in wooden frames, the softly glowing paper lamps, and the books piled everywhere, I
popped my iPod onto its dock and put on some happy packing music, even though I wanted to
scroll through my specially-made teen-angst mix and let it all envelop me in something suitably
dreary. I started to put piles of clothes here and there and took out my brand new pink leather
traveling bag, the one I had unwrapped this morning and hugged Thorsten for. I didn’t feel any
ill  will towards Fa. He was a puppet in Mom’s very capable hands, no doubt about that.
I didn’t feel any ill will at all, not really. I picked up the picture of me and Mom in front
of the big tree in Rockefeller Square. We were both really rosy-cheeked and pink-nosed with
cute hats on, our arms around each other. I knew that what my mom was feeling stemmed from a
lot of really deep emotions and events that all proved the one thing I’ve known my entire life; my
mom loves me so fiercely, it’s scary.
Mom had me when she was barely out of high school. The guy, my father, left her high
and dry. He was her boyfriend and as far as I can tell, she believed this guy was the love of her
life. I knew that she assumed what Jake and I had was very similar to what she thou ght she had
with my biological father. It took her a long time to get her life back on track after him. I knew it
was the ghost of that experience that made her uber-protective.
Mom never told me much about the whole thing with my father, but I knew there was a
lot of resentment on her part towards my grandparents. She felt like they should have been
looking out for her more, making sure she was on the right track, that she had the right back -up.
It was what she was doing for me right now, or at least what she thought she was doing
for me. So I couldn’t be upset.
But I was.
And I had to do the one thing that I really, really didn’t want to do. Especially on
Christmas day, knowing the kinds of Christmases Jake had experienced every year before. But
every second that I put off packing and moped, every second that I chickened out about calling
him was one second that I took away from our time together, and I couldn’t do that.
I was always a good packer. Thorsten, Mom, and I traveled a lot, so I knew how to  roll
my clothes, how to pick things that will layer well and that will move from casual to fancy
easily. I knew how to make a little bag of accessories that would dress everything up. I had a
special tiny cross-over purse with a wide zippered strap to keep my passport and anything else
important in. Once I’d laid out what I wanted to take on my bed, pared through the pile and taken
out what I knew I didn’t really want to bring, I rolled the clothes up and put them in the suitcase.
I picked up the phone and turned my music up a little bit. I packed so fast that I had time to call
Jake and give him a little bit of a heads-up before he got here.
“Merry Christmas, Brenna.” His voice was silky and deep on the phone, and I felt my
mouth go dry at the sound of it. I loved that voice.
“Merry Christmas, Jake.” I smiled despite the bad news I was about to deliver.
“Did Santa leave you some good stuff?” Jake asked. He sounded happy, inexplicably.
I had been to his house early on Christmas Eve, before the candlelight service and
Christmas caroling at our church. He and his father bought a small, dry turkey and had two
wilted vegetable sides and mashed potatoes, a veritable feast as far as the Kellys were concerned.
We sat on the couch and ate off of plates that we balanced on our laps and watched It’s a
Wonderful Life. Jake’s father barely spoke to me. He didn’t seem mean, just socially
uncomfortable and nervous. When the movie was over, he got up and announced that he was
going out bowling. Jake and I had a few hours before I had to go home, so we snuggled in his
room and talked and laughed under the blankets.  His dad kept the house at sixty-eight degrees in
the winter, so snuggling was pretty much a necessity.
“I got a lot of great stuff.” I pawed through my bras and underwear, picking the nicest
ones. This was a trip to Paris, after all. “Thorsten got me an awesome new design program for
the computer. Um, did you get anything good?”
He laughed like I made a joke. “I got my socks, flashlight, and fifty. I told you, babe, it’s
what I get every year.”
“Well, I got you some good stuff.” I tried very hard not to get aggravated at Jake’s dad
on the most peaceful day of the year. How could he be so cheap with  his own son? And I didn’t
mean cheap monetarily, although that was true, too. Jake was this vibrant, amazing guy, but his
dad put no effort whatsoever into making things good or nice for him. It was just basic
necessities as far as Jake’s dad was concerned, and he didn’t even stretch his imagination much
there. 
“I can’t wait to see what you got me. I’m still trying to get over my birthday gift.”
I had custom -made him a motocross jersey. Jake was really into dirtbikes, and when he
raced during his last big amateur competition, I had taken a bunch of action shots of him. I
transferred them to the computer, played with the images, and made them into really high quality
iron-ons. I had the shirt ordered and put his last name and the images on it; it was pretty
professional looking.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I sat on my  bed and unknotted a tangle of necklaces from my
jewelry box. “It was just a shirt.”
“And the rest of the outfit to match, and a helmet that you custom-designed. And the
decals for my bike.” He sighed a happy, adorable sigh. “Don’t downplay it, Bren. It was
awesome.”
“Well, it all had to match.” I moved on to my bracelets. “And it was cool that that big
dirtbike magazine was at Dingmans when you won that race.”
“I can’t believe I got a spread.” Jake laughed. “It was your design. It was good luck.”
“I know I’m pretty great, but don’t you think it had something to do with the fact that
you won the race?” I smiled at the memory, a little girly pride pricking me nicely. “Like by a
mile.”
“By a couple yards,” he corrected humbly. Typical Jake. “Yeah, I guess.  You just…” He
stopped. “Alright, I didn’t want to get all mushy on you, but what the hell? I never had someone
care about me the way you do. It makes me feel like I could do anything. Like you give me the
confidence to do whatever I want. You don’t know how incredible it’s been for me to have you
in my life.”
And now my heart felt like it was singing and tearing apart at the same time. How could
I help but fall in love with a guy like this? Jake was the whole package, no question. We had
plans for winter break. Since Jake turned seventeen this November, he’d been cutting some of
his hours at Zinga’s, the farm where he worked. He’d been a full time employee when he needed
to keep a farmer’s license, which was a special permit that let younger drivers have more driving
freedom if they worked on a farm, but since he’d gotten his regular license, he was able to scale
back and spend more time with me. This break was supposed to be a chance for us to hang out as
much as humanly possible. How was I going to tell him that we were going to have no time
together at all?
“Jake, you don’t need me around to do all of that,” I pointed out. “You’re too hard on
yourself. You’ve always had the talent and the drive. You just need to believe in your potential.”
It was an old speech on my part, and one I didn’t love making. I’ve never been great at
pep talks in general, and I hated when people didn’t just admit what they’re good at. But in
Jake’s case, I always made an exception because I honestly got the feeling that he didn’t  realize
his full potential. So I tried to reassure him without rolling my eyes too much.
“You can have whatever theory you want.” I could hear his goofy grin over the phone. “I
know that it’s all Brenna Blixen magic. I’m just glad you had some sort of me ntal breakdown
and decided to date me.”
“Jake.” I giggled. It was easy to dismiss all of his humble talk when he had such a good
sense of humor about the whole thing.
“So, what’s up with tonight? It’s gonna be dressy like Thanksgiving was, right?”
He had worn his blue button-down to Thanksgiving. And my birthday dinner. And every
other occasion he had had to come to my house for. Jake’s wardrobe was depressingly small, but
I had remedied that.
“Look under your bed.” I bounced up and down on my springy  mattress, excited despite
the impending bad news that I knew I had to tell him sooner rather than later.
“What?” I heard him put the phone down and move around in his bland, boring little
room. He picked the phone back up. “Bren, what is all this? How did   you get it here?”
“I snuck it in my big purse. You know the one. You make fun of it all the time.” I smiled
with pride. “Open your presents up.”
I heard him tear wrapping paper. “Wow. Um, these are from Banana Republic. That’s
just a stupid amount of mo ney to spend on clothes for me.”
“Jake. I love you in blue, but if I had to look at that button-down one more time, I was
going to rip it off of you.” I jumped up and ran my hand over the many, many gorgeous outfits
hanging in my closet, and it was such a deeply satisfying feeling. I was well aware Jake probably
didn’t feel it quite the same way, but there had to be some sense of happiness when he looked at
his new clothes.
“Uh, you did. The last three times I wore it. I thought you were ripping it off of  me
because of how good I looked in it.”
“Shut up.” But I smiled from ear to ear. I loved that I found him so irresistible. “Do you
like them? I kept the receipts, so you can take them back if you want.”
“No way. You have the better judgment in clothes and stuff. If you think I’m gonna look
hot in this stuff, I’m wearing it. Not that you need any encouragement.”
“Haha.” I rolled my eyes. “At least you dropped the whole humble guy thing.”
“Well, I think you exaggerate about how smart and great I am. But  as far as my hotness?
There’s no debating that.” I heard him opening the packages. “You seriously just quadrupled my
wardrobe.”
“Well, considering you had less than ten pieces of clothing in total, that wasn’t very hard
to do.” I took a few pair of shoes  out and assessed them. Shoes were always big space-takers in
luggage. As much as I loved going through my awesome clothes, I knew I needed to come out
and tell Jake about Paris. But our conversation was so fun and sweet, I was greedy for a few
more minutes.
“You spent a lot of money.” Now his voice had an edge of grumpiness to it.
“I made a killing at the last two Folly shows.” I designed shirts for a local band, Folly,
and got a cut of the profits they made from the sales. It was only a small amount per shirt, but it
added up quickly. Especially considering their fan base had been growing in the last few months
after a couple of incredible shows.
“You should be saving that money. Aren’t you going to Ireland this summer?” he
reminded me. “You’re going to need it, Brenna.”
I sighed. The Ireland trip was looming, and I was upbeat about my chances to get into
the program, but not positive. Mom and Jake, on the other hand, had no doubts and talked about
it as if it were already set in stone. “It’s not for su re.” I fell back on my bed, pushing clothes
away with my elbows. “Rotary still has two rounds of interviews. I can’t be sure about it until the
end of next month.”
“Yeah, like there’s any way they’re going to reject you,” he scoffed.
And that was why Jake was so amazing and so frustrating at the same time. He really did
believe that I was pretty perfect. If I told him that I was going to quit school to be a model or a
racecar driver or an astronaut, he would not have one negative thing to say. He would be
supportive and wonderful and…Jake.
“So, speaking of Europe,” I started. And stopped.
“Yeah?” I heard his steady breathing, the happiness in his voice, and I didn’t want Paris.
I wanted Jake! I wanted Jake all winter break. I wanted to drive around in his big blue truck with
no particular place to go. I wanted him to take me ice skating. I wanted to eat out at our favorite
Japanese place and go see late movies and talk on the phone all night. And if I worked on him
long and hard, I knew I could get him to  sneak over, climb in my window and sleep with me,
spooned around me all night and into the gray morning.
“Jake, I got another big present today.” I sat up and pushed the bangs off of my forehead.
He waited. “I got a ticket to Paris.”
“France?” Jake’s vo ice rang with more genuine enthusiasm than I’d been able to muster.
“Yes.” I was about to spill the details, but his excitement for me eclipsed my attempts.
“That’s perfect, babe. You‘ve wanted to go to forever.” Jake knew how much I wanted
to see Paris. “You and Mom going?” It was weird to hear him call her ‘Mom,’ but also kind of
cute. He didn’t do it to her face. When he talked to her it was always strictly Mrs. Blixen. He just
referred to her as ‘Mom’ with me.
“Yes.” I dragged the word out slowly.
“Cool.” He seemed actually cool with it. “When?”
“Day after tomorrow.” I rushed the words out -- like ripping a Band-Aid off in one shot -- and winced. In the second of silence Jake took to collect his thoughts or quietly freak out or
hang up on me, I added the clincher that was sure to break his heart. And mine. “And I‘ll stay all
winter break.”
Jake let out a long sigh. I knew what he felt. I pictured a big,  bright, shiny balloon
suddenly punctured by a sharp needle. “It’s so good for you and Mom to do t his together. I’ll be
able to pick up more work at Zinga’s. Can I call you?” There was an almost unnoticeable shake
to his words, but leave it to Jake to put the best possible spin on the situation.
“Jake, you can be a little less perfect about this.” I fell back on my bed with relief. I
prepared myself for a tantrum, because that was what I would have done. But Jake was on a
different level when it came to cool and calm. He was like a saint. Or Buddha.
“I’m not gonna lie.” His voice sounded thick, like he was talking around a lump in his
throat. “I’m gonna miss you so much. I was really excited about seeing a lot  of you. A lot of
you,” he added. His voice went husky, and my body screamed for him.
Why? Why did the choice have to be between Paris and Jake? How evil could life be?
Correction; how evil could Mom be? God, her love hurt.
“I’ll miss you so much.” I closed my eyes and let the hot tears fill right up to my lashes
and drip out the sides of my eyes. “I almost don’t want to go.”
“Are you kidding?” he practically screamed. “You can’t ever not do something because
of me, okay? I think Mom thinks that I’m going to drag you down. If you didn’t do this, she
would assume I told you not to, or that you didn’t go because of me. And I want you to go as
much as she does. Maybe more.”
And I had nothing at all to say. Because Jake was dead on.
Mom had come out and said that Jake wasn’t headed in the same direction that I was. She
peppered that lecture with lots of nice compliments about Jake’s good manners, his work ethic,
his good looks, his kindness, and careful driving. But the message had been that all of that didn’t
make up for what he didn’t have: the right upbringing and a solid drive for education. She would
use any excuse to point out how Jake was ‘ho lding me back.’
I felt like Jake had so much potential, there was no box to put him in. Mom felt like
people couldn’t escape their fates or what they were born to do. Mom said that I was too young
to understand, that I was too idealistic. It made me feel  like arguing, but what could I say? I was
too young. And I guess too idealistic.
But I didn’t want to be some hard-hearted gold-digger with a checklist and a chip on my
shoulder. What was so wrong with loving someone good and kind and different? What was so
wrong with believing that someone can be more than what he seems? It just wasn’t an argument
I could have with my mom. We could n’t see eye to eye on this one. And I was trying really hard
not to be an average asshole teenager and take her opinion as ser iously as I could.
“It’s not so long.” Jake’s voice was calm in my ears, smoothing out all the wild thoughts
clawing around and tearing at my brain. “Don’t be upset. And we get to see each other tonight,
right?”
“Yes,” I pouted.
“What time did you say?” I heard the springs on Jake’s bed creak as he stood up.
“Four.”
“Three?” he repeated. “Let’s just say I misheard.”
I smiled a tiny smile. “I love you, Jake.” I sighed. “You can get a calling card. Or I can
call my cell and get international calling this month.”
“Can you do that?” His voice bubbled with hope. I’d let him down so hard, but he was
still happy with the little I offered.
“To be able to talk to you? You know I’ll do whatever.” I wiped my cheeks dry with my
fingers.
“You’re the best. Go pack. I’ll be over before you know it, alright? I love you, Bren.”
“I love you.” We clicked off, and I felt like a lifeline broke. Without Jake I was lost.
I put a big smile on my face and went out to the kitchen. Mom had wrestled the huge
turkey into the oven early that morning. She peeled the potatoes over the sink. I went to a drawer
and took out the extra peeler, the old metal one that dug into the skin on your hands when you
used it.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom said. She was already dressed to the nines in her  red cashmere
sweater, a present from Thorsten, and a black pencil skirt. She had on high black heels and the
gold Virgin Mary necklace I saw her admire in Macy’s and picked up a few weeks later for her
gift this Christmas. I knew she’d love it. Her light brown hair was curled, and it was already
almost down to her shoulders, grown out since her last haircut . So pretty. She was just so pretty.
She gave me a kiss. “You don’t need to do this. Go pack.”
“I did!” I cringed when I realized how cheesy and bright  it sounded. It sounded artificial.
“I think I’m all done.”
“I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Mom put a wet, potato -flecked hand on my arm. Her
voice was getting that lecture quality to it, and I wanted to dodge it.
“Me too.” I picked up a hot potato and popped it from one hand to the other to cool it
before I gouged and scraped. I hated peeling potatoes. I hated lectures, but my forced enthusiasm
made Mom too suspicious.
“I know you and Jake probably made plans. But this is a once in a lifetime opport unity.
The time to travel is now and for the next few years. You have to live your life, sweetheart. You
can’t do everything based around a high school relationship.” Her peeler hung idle in her fingers
as she talked.
I had to bite my lips and peel harder. If I answered, I was going to say something she’d
disagree with. If I was quiet, maybe whatever deity there was would have mercy on me and
make the lecture stop. But then Mom surprised me.
Her voice got very low and a little watery. “Your biological fat her was a guy who
seemed so perfect. Nice and kind and really smart. I felt lucky to have him around. But when it
came down to it, he wasn’t the right guy for me, sweetie. Or for you. He didn’t have what it took,
and if I’d been more independent, I wouldn’t have fallen apart like I did.”
I held the cooling potato, peeled to a nub, in one hand and stayed still. Now I was hoping
that the deity would ignore my former prayer and just let her continue. Who was he? Who was
this dad of mine? She was so quiet I didn’t know for sure if she would continue.
“He kept right on going, after us.” Her voice was tissue-paper soft. I could see her grayblue eyes, dewy with tears. Her lips made a wobbly line and her soft, small hands shook a little
around the brown potato skin. “And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. But in the end, I
learned from him. I learned that it’s important to have your own thing, your own life. I’m not
saying he was a good person. He had a lot to learn about compassion and respect and love.” He r
voice was wet with sadness. “But he knew all about being selfish. It’s something we have to
learn.”
And I didn’t say, But Jake and I aren’t you and my father. And I didn’t say, This is a
totally different situation. And I didn’t say, Tell me more about what happened. Because I knew
that every one of those things would ruin this weird spell she was casting with her velvety soft
voice. And I didn’t know how much I believed any of those things or how much more I really
wanted to know.
“Because it’s hard to balance compassion and love for others with selfishness,” Mom
continued. “I think, just by nature, you’ve got the loving thing down. So now I need to teach you
to be selfish. And I need to see you experience a whole range of things, so you have a choice.
We tend to get too comfortable too quickly, honey, and that’s no way to make any big decision.”
Her eyes lightened like a soft blue sky after a summer storm. She smiled and took my potato-caked hand in hers. “Get dressed. I bet Jake will show up a little early. You two can have a nice
dinner.”
Mom kissed my cheek and I knew I had the imprint of her lipstick on my skin. I floated
to the bathroom, rinsed my hands, and peered at my reflection, marked by my mother’s lips. I
needed to do what my mom asked me. I needed to listen to her, no matter how much I wanted to
ignore what she was saying. I needed to prove to her that I wasn’t my father; she had raised me
better than that. And I had to show her that I wasn’t her from that time. I wasn’t the same
teenager she had been.
I realized that my mom was scared about this. She was afraid for me, and I had to show
her that I would be fine. Jake wasn’t like my father, but the only way Mom would understand
that was if I went with her and proved it. If Jake and I both proved it. We could do this. No
words would change any of this. She had to see it for herself.
Proving that I wasn’t just like my mom would be harder. How could I deny that I loved
being in love with Jake? And I would probably fall apart a little without him. Wasn’t that
normal? And we had been spending a lot of time together, but that was because we wanted to,
not because I couldn’t hang out on my own. Wasn’t it?
Well, at least I knew that Jake was just as loving as I was. He was not selfish. He wasn’t.
I didn’t think. I didn’t really want to think about it. My mom’s lectures tended to do this to me.
They took a perfectly rational, reasonable situation and turned it on its head. Was she right? Was
I too comfortable?
I pushed that all out of my head for right now. I had an afternoon with Jake to look
forward to.
And, on the bright side, it was a trip to Paris! I loved to travel, no matter how much
leaving home would ache this time. It was a trip to Paris with my mom, and it would be
wonderful. When I got home, I could fall right back into Jake’s arms, and Mom could be less
worried and less critical.
At least I hoped that would happen.
Chapter Two
I went to my room and took out my dress, a scarlet red silk with cap sleeves and a
wraparound waist. I loved it, and it was kind of my first adult Christmas dress. I had black
stockings with a line sewn up the back like the old-fashioned silk style and a pair of really cute
black strappy heels, which were uncomfortable enough that I was glad I would only be wearing
them around the house. I had just cut my bangs, so they were right above my eyebrows, where I
liked them. I put on a black silk headband and put the rest of my hair into a carefully messy bun,
which is deceptively hard to do. A thousand bobby pins later, and it looked really good, in a
windblown way.
I put my makeup on and a little jewelry, including  the silver ‘B’ necklace Jake had gotten
me for my birthday and the pearl drop earrings Mom and Thorsten picked up for me for
Christmas. I also had a new watch with a wide leather cuff band. I loved watches, but hardly
anyone wore them anymore. Most people my age just used their cellphones to tell the time. But I
loved them no matter how old-fashioned they were, had at least a dozen, and wore them all of the
time.
The minute I finished, I heard the doorbell ring, and felt a leap of joy. When I looked
down at my watch, I saw that it was only two-thi rty. I knew Jake had to be more upset than he
was pretending about my leaving, because he was usually really careful about respecting Mom’s
timetables. Mom was already at the door, being unusually nice and kissing Jake’s cheek. I
realized then that she felt a little guilty about this whole thing, too. I shook my head. How could
Paris cause so much upset? Paris!
Jake  looked incredibly hot. And it actually had very little to do with my excellent taste in
clothes. Jake was the kind of guy who would look hot in just about anything, since he was tall
with delectably chiseled muscles and a face that set girls drooling wher ever we went. But today
he was wearing his gray dress pants and a black crewneck sweater. It was cashmere, which I’m
sure he didn’t notice or care about, but it made me happy that he had something other than
threadbare cotton or denim. His boots were new,  too, a birthday gift from his ever practical
father. Dress shoes weren’t part of Jake’s mindset, and I knew that buying them would just be a
waste of my efforts. He was handing my mother a wrapped package.
I hadn’t realized he would get her a gift. Part of me was shocked that he hadn’t asked for
my help with it at all. I wondered what he had gotten her.
“Oh, Jake!” she cried. It was a pair of leather gloves that were bright purple. They were
almost funny, but so funny they were just plain adorable.
“I know they’re kind of a weird color.” Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other
and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But I just thought that if anyone could pull them off, it
would be you, Mrs. Blixen.”
Mom’s eyes glistened again. “How thoughtful. I love them.” My mother moved in for a
hug.
“And now your hands will be warm in Paris.” Jake put his arms around her in an
awkward reciprocation of her offered hug.
“Brenna told you?” Mom asked, her voice surprised.
“She called right away. She was really excited. I am, too. I mean, for you two. It’s so
great that Brenna gets to travel so much, and I know how much she’s been missing you since you
two moved back to the states and you got your job and life just got crazy.” He was rambling
now, but I could see Mom get emotional, and I felt the dangerous burn in my own eyes. I had to
sternly remind myself of just how crazy I would look with all of my new Bad Girl mascara
running down my cheeks, and the tears held back. “I hope you two have a blast.”
Mom hugged him again, murmuring kind Christmas-y things. My heart swelled a little. I
came into the foyer, and Jake looked over at me. His eyes went wide.
“Wow.” He licked his lips quickly, like he was nervous. “Bren, you look incredible.”
And now Mom was eating out of his hand. All you really had to do to get my mom to
like you was be super complimentary to me, and Jake was a natural at that.
“You look pretty good, yourself, Kelly.” I walked around him. He turned to see me as I
circled him, like he couldn’t stand to take his eyes off of me. Oh, Jake!
“Thank you.” He turned back to Mom. “Brenna got me some new clothes. I guess she
was tired of my five t-shirts.”
“Well, if I saw that blue button-down one more time, I was going to take you shopping
myself. I mean, you’re a handsome young man. Take Brenna’s advice, and you’ll have to beat
the girls away.” She smiled, and I saw through her weird comments the kind of tough love that
she usually restricted to me alone.
“No worries there.” Jake was completely oblivious to my mother’s motives. “I’ve
already got the best girl there is.”
Mom just smiled. “Bren, why don’t you and Jake grab a cup of cocoa from the stove and
sit by the fire? I’m almost done in here.”
I got two mugs and hurried to the living room with Jake, thankful for Mom’s
thoughtfulness despite her odd ‘date other people’  messages.
Our fireplace was set in a big stone-covered wall that went around to the kitchen. Most of
the time when you see that design, the fireplace goes through the wall, so you ca n access it from
both rooms, but ours didn’t. We just had one big wall that was flat stone in our kitchen. Jake and
I sat on the couch, and he put our mugs down and took me in his arms, our nearly silent kisses so
ravenous, I was instantly turned on.
“You’re so beautiful.” He pulled his mouth away and held my upper arms hard in his
hands. “You look like Christmas.”
I laughed and kissed him really softly and silently, since Mom and Thorsten were just
around the corner. “Thanks. I got you other stuff. Do you want to see it?”
“I don’t want you spending all of your money on me.” He looked really serious, his gray
eyes wide and his mouth set in a line. He was so hot, it was hard to breathe steadily around him.
“I didn’t. I mean, I made some of it. Anyway, it ’s Christmas, so stop arguing about it.” I
went under the tree and found some silver wrapped packages. In our crazy Christmas-centered
house, each person got assigned a different colored wrapping paper. Mom was red, Thorsten was
green, I got gold, and Jake got silver. Mom always went a little crazy with Christmas
decorations.
Jake laughed. “Man, your house is like a magazine.” He craned his neck and took it all
in. “Christmas music, cocoa, a fire, that big -ass tree, all the dinner smells. I’m glad I get to  do
Christmas here.”
I thought about this morning, how depressing it must have been for him in comparison to
my morning. It made me too sad to think about it for long, so I didn’t.
“I’m glad you’re doing your Christmas here, too.” I brought his little sh iny pile over.
“Open them.”
He undid the paper so carefully it was obnoxious. A full minute into the first one, I lost
my cool. “Jake! It’s just paper! We’re not saving it, so rip it open!”
He smiled. “Fine, bossy pants.” He ripped it with exaggerated relish. “Hey, a watch!” He
took it out and put it on right away. I hated when people bought gifts that were things they liked,
but I thought my watch obsession had a lot of merit, so I got Jake in on it. “Thanks.” He pulled
me over for a long kiss.
I also got him a new sketch pad and really good pencils, and the rest of my English
reading on CD. Jake liked to keep up with me, but his dyslexia made it impossible. I like d to be
able to talk to him about the books I’m reading, so he listened along.
“Some of them look so awful,” I apologized. “Oh, and this one was really bad, so I
recorded it for you to make up for it.”
“Like, you read it?” He turned over the jewel case with its obviously homemade insert.
“Yeah. I have a program on my computer.” The truth is, I have every program on my
computer. Thorsten got me a laptop so jacked, I don’t think secret government agents have the
kind of programming I have. “Anyway, it’s pretty short, but Ethan Frome is just plain torture, so
I hope the fact that I’m reading it  makes it a little easier to swallow.”
Jake crunched me in a bear hug. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a little husky. Jake
never had anyone really care about him or think about him, so this kind of gift receiving had
been a little emotional for him. “I left your stuff on the porch. I’ll be right back.” He ran out the
door, my mom glancing at him curiously. He came back with a big bag.
Jake got me a bottle of the perfume I’d tried on this fall  and loved, every Jane Austen
movie made on DVD, a sketch book with a bright blue cover and little brown birds flying on it
and finally, there was just one tiny box in the bottom. Jake sat on the floor in front of me on the
couch. When he fished that box out, he was on his knees and my heart leapt. I felt like I might
faint and wanted to tell him no right then. 
“Jake, what is that?” My voice shook hard.
He seemed oblivious to my nervous dread.
“I just thought of you when I saw it.” His ears burned a little red. He pushed the box into
my hands, but I dropped it twice because they were shaking so much. Finally, he just plucked it
out of my hands and opened it himself. He popped the top of the box off, and there was a ring.
I felt myself freaking out. This was a lot. This was too much. Mom and Thorsten would
freak. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to look at it.
But it didn’t have a stone or anything, and I felt a hot flush of relief about that.
“Jake…” I began, but he cut me off.
“It’s called a posey ring. People who were…in love exchanged them, like a long time
ago. It says, Here is my heart, guard it well. In French. Weird, right? I didn’t even know you
were going to Paris.” His laugh was nervous. He looked up into my face. “Don’t freak, Bren. It’s
not like an engagement ring.”
I laughed a little breathily. “Duh. I mean, of course. We’re still in high school!” My
voice sounded on the verge of hysterical.
I picked the ring out of the box carefully. It was shiny gold, the words etched around the
outside; A Vila Mon Coer, Gardi Li Mo. I traced my finger over the smoot h metal, loving the feel
of the bumps and grooves despite my general unease about it being a ring.
I looked at it for a long time before I slipped it on the tip of my right index finger, and
Jake took my hand and pushed it on all the way.
“I shouldn’t have bought that one, huh?” He held my fingertips and didn’t look up from
the ring on my hand. His ring on my hand. It sent a little shiver along my neck, even as I told
myself that it was silly to think that way. It was just a piece of jewelry! No big deal! No hidden
meanings!
Right?
And when I looked at his face, crestfallen with worry that he’d given me the wrong gift, I
stuffed all of my crazy neurosis aside and let him know that I loved how much he loved me and
the way he showed me. Even if it was overwhelming sometimes.
“It’s so beautiful.” I cupped his face and kissed his gorgeous model-perfect mouth. “I
love it.”
“Good.” He nodded, relieved. “I’m not great at picking out gifts.”
“Are you crazy? These are perfect. Thank you.” I waited a minute. “So, how did you
pick the wording on it?”
“They had all different ones. The girl behind the counter told me what they meant. Like,
I am yours, you are mine. Or, All I desire. They all made sense. This one just made the best
sense. I feel like I can trust you with my heart. I guess.” He ducked his head shyly. “Jesus,
Brenna, you make me say the sappiest crap.”
“You love it.” I wanted to say whatever would break the awkward energy in the air. I
was about to kiss him again.
Mom and Thorsten came out just then. Jake quickly broke away from me and started
picking up wrapping paper and putting it in the bag that he’d packed the gifts in. He held out a
box to Thorsten, who opened it and got all excited over a little pouch of tobacco.
“My dad picked it up for me,” Jake explained. “It’s a special blend. Something they still
pick by hand. Brenna told me you smoke a pipe, so I thought you might like it.”
Thorsten slapped him on the back and smiled happily. He and Mom looked at the gifts,
and Mom didn’t even make a big deal out of the ring, though I caught her looking at it a few
times with her mouth twisted disapprovingly. They gave Jake a new pair of riding gloves. It was
the only thing I hadn’t given him for his birthday.
“These are great.” Jake turned them over in  his hands. I had been with them when they
bought them, so I knew they were amazing. You can buy a whole range of gloves, and, of
course, Mom and Thorsten had gone to the top of the spectrum for them. He hugged Mom
tightly, then bypassed Thorsten’s hand and  hugged him, too.
I felt a little choked up, and I think my parents did, too. We all sat in silence for a long
minute before Mom said, “Oh! Dinner!”
We went to the dining room, laughing. We all walked back and forth with food, way too
much food, for the long table. Thorsten got us together and took pictures, snapping a few
himself, then setting up the camera so we could all get in one together. Jake took over and made
the three of us squeeze together for a family shot.
I tried to stretch the dinner out as long as I could. Jake ate so much, even Thorsten, who
is a bottomless pit, was impressed. We made conversation and laughed. Mom and Thorsten
drank wine and she relaxed a little, then a lot. We laughed more, and then Mom brought out
dessert. It was delicious and cozy and wonderful.
Jake and I offered to clear and clean up. Mom and Thorsten went to the living room to
watch an old movie on AMC.
“Wash or dry?” Jake picked up the sponge in one hand and the dishtowel in the other.
“Normally I’d pick dry.” I rubbed my chin as if I had to give this a lot of thought. “But I
don’t know if I can trust you to wash the way my mom would approve of.”
“You doubt my abilities?” Jake teased.
“Definitely.” I turned the water on and started to soap everything up. I had one of my
mom’s crazy aprons on, a red plaid one with a Santa head on it.
“You look really pretty.” Jake leaned one hip on the counter and took the first dish I
handed him, his eyes on me the entire time.
“You just like to see me slaving over a hot sink in a crazy apron.” I stuck my tongue out
at him.
“I’m gonna miss you a lot.” Jake dried the plate in his hand with his eyes down.
“I wish the timing was different.” I looked down at the food-encrusted plates in the
bubbly water.
He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “No matter when it was, I would be
sad you were going. But you have to go. Every time. You can’t put this stuff o ff.
Sometimes I was scared Jake wasn’t going to be into what I was into. Sometimes I was
really scared that I was going to outgrow him. I couldn’t really imagine anything worse than
growing away from Jake, but the reality was that he and I didn’t have remotely similar goals
when it came to things like travel and education. I cringed.
Was Mom right?
“Maybe next year we could go somewhere together.” I willed Jake to horn in on my get independent plans. Did it still count as his goal if I suggested going? Was it independent if Jake
came along? Was it weird to think we could pull off a European trip together? Like my  mother
wouldn’t freak out too much over that.
Jake looked at me for a long time. I could tell he was wrestling in his mind between the
desire to do something new and all the fear that went along with doing just that. “How much
money would I need?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never really paid for it when I traveled.” I felt a little embarrassed
admitting that.
“Of course not.” Jake pulled his eyebrows together. “How do I get a passport? I need
one, right?”
“You do.” I scrubbed the gravy boat , rinsed it, and handed it to him. “There’s an
application online you can download. You have to get it notarized and get your picture put on it.”
“It doesn’t sound any harder than a driver’s license.” He made neat stacks of the dishes
he dried. “So, where are we going, Bren?”
“Where do you want to go?” I squirted more dish soap into the water.
“How about Australia?” His eyes were bright as, I imagined, kangaroos and wallabies
jumped through his head.
I honestly hated to shoot his wallabies but... “That’s like a twenty  hour plane ride.”
“You’re kidding.” He stopped drying, and I could almost see his brain visualizing where
Australia was in relation to the States.
“It’s on the other side of the world, Jake. Not that we can’t go. Maybe we should just
think closer. Like Europe.” I closed my eyes and focused on the first amazing, beautiful image
that popped into my head. It was Venice. “I’ve always wanted to see Italy.”
“That would be incredible.” The kangaroos hopped away, and I imagined Jake thinking
of marble statues, cobblestoned streets, and the Coliseum. “Wow. Italy. Okay, Italy next year.
It’s a deal.” He stuck his hand out, I took mine out of the soap suds, and we shook.
Next year. I’d be a junior plus and Jake would be a senior. I hoped we would still be
dating, but just thinking like that made me scared to death I would jinx something. Would my
mom and Thorsten ever agree to it? Right now it was too much fun to think about. There was no
way I was going to let the whole plan get bogged down with possible problems. 
Jake rubbed his thumb over the gold posey ring on my finger. “What are you going to
see in Paris?”
I shrugged. “Mom and I barely had time to talk about it. But the flight is long, so I’m
sure she’ll fill me in.”
“You’ll take pictures?” Jake asked. He let my hand go reluctantly, and I went back to
scrubbing the dishes.
“Of course.” I imagined the two of us looking through my pictures together when I got
back. “Will you take pictures?”
“Of Sussex County?” He shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ll  miss almost two weeks of Sussex County in the winter. You can
document it for me. Like a fortnight in the life of Jake Kelly.” I slid my eyes over to him. “Or
you don’t have to. It was just a thought.”
“No.” He smiled from behind the cabinet door as he st acked clean, dry dishes in. “I’ll do
it. You can look at it when you’re having trouble sleeping.”
“You’re not that boring.” I finished the final pot and came to help him finish drying and
putting away.
“You’re delusional. My life is painfully dull.” He took a pan out of my hands and pulled
me in for a kiss. “And soon I’ll have photographic proof.”
We finished the dishes in good-natured quiet, then Jake got more dessert and we settled
in the living room. It was nice having Jake around. I had grown up an o nly child, and Christmas
tended to be pretty quiet at my house. This was the first Christmas I had someone my own age
around, and it was nice even beyond the fact that it was Jake and he was my boyfriend. It was
fun to have someone to talk to and be with.  Mom and Thorsten had on White Christmas with
Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney, and Jake soaked it in with wide eyes.
I slipped my heels off and tucked my feet under me, checking him out for a few minutes.
I leaned close. “You like musicals?” I took a deep breath of his clean, crisp smell.
“I guess so.” His index finger ran along my fingers gently. “I’ve never seen this movie.”
“It’s a Wonderful Life isn’t the only Christmas movie in the world.” I weaved  my fingers
with his and held on tight.
He clicked his tongue at me. “I know. I’ve seen The Grinch and Rudolph the Red Nosed
Reindeer.” He paused. “And Frosty the Snowman.”
“What about Elf?” He shook his head. “What about Emmett Otter’s Jugband
Christmas?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “Oh, man, we have some catching up to do.”
So for the next few hours we laughed through Christmas movies. Jake had seen  A
Christmas Story, but had never heard of A Child’s Christmas in Wales, my all time favorite.
“Figures your favorite would be a weird poem story.” He pulled me over and kissed me
on the temple.
“Dylan Thomas is not weird.” I defended one of my favorite poets. “You’re the most
unexposed person I’ve ever met in my life.”
Jake tweaked my nose, which I thought was completely adorable and lovable of him,
even if he hadn’t taken my seriously-made comment very seriously at all. Thorsten and Mom had
more coffee and dessert, and Jake joined them. When they were done, he stood up, thanked my
parents, and told them that he had to get home. One thing Jake was really good at was not
overstaying his welcome.
Everyone wished him a merry Christmas and Mom shooed me outside with him. There
was no snow. Except for a freak storm in September, we hadn’t had a single flake. The ground
was hard and cold under our shoes and the sky had a crisp, clean smell that meant snow was
near, but there was no actual snow.
“Maybe I can see you tomorrow.” He wrapped me in  his arms.
I put my head on his chest and breathed in the sharp smell of aftershave wafting from his
neck. “Maybe. I’ll work on my mom.”
“I had a really nice Christmas.” He rubbed his hands over my arms. “This might be the
nicest Christmas I’ve ever had. I mean, since my mom died and all.”
I went really still. I heard about Jake’s mom as much as I heard about my dad . I waited
and, just like Mom earlier, Jake lifted the mysterious curtain and let me take a brief peek.
“She was really into Christmas.” He held me tighter as he spoke. “I remember being in
the car with her. She took me all over the town to random houses  so we could look at the
Christmas lights. And we just parked. She let me sit in her lap, and we just looked at this really
big house with all of these lights on it. I don’t remember much, you know. I was pretty young
when she died. But she did really like Christmas.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get that many with her.” I felt the prick of tears in my eyes. No
mother? I couldn’t imagine a sadder fate. I had a hard time breathing without letting my tears
run.
“Don’t cry, Bren.” Jake kissed me. “I never tell you about this stuff because you get too
upset. It’s okay, really. I miss her, but it’s okay.”
I hugged him tight, so tight my arms hurt. Jake had so little. Jake needed so much. It was
intimidating. It was a lot to feel responsible for. But, I loved Jake, loved him, loved him, loved
him. I would guard his heart, no matter what.
“I love you,” I whispered right in his ear, and suddenly I was pressed up against the
house, his hands knocking bobby pins out of my hair, his mouth hard on mine. He had my coat
spread open at the sides and I could feel his body crushed to me, hot through my silky dress.
“Come back tonight.” I didn’t care that I was begging shamelessly.
“I can’t, Brenna. Your parents will kill me if they catch me.” He kissed my mouth and
down my neck.
“Please, Jake. They drank that whole bottle of wine. They’ll never know. I don’t have
long with you. Please, Jake. Please.” I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him gently on
his earlobes and under his jaw, where I knew he was most sensitive. “Please.”
“Okay.” He dragged his hands out of my hair, down my neck and along the front of my
body. He closed his gray eyes, and I wanted to yell at him to open them up again. I wanted to
feel his hands on me for a little while more, but he pulled away before I ha d my fill. “I’ll come
back at two. I’ll call when I’m at the window.”
I kissed him. “Thank you.”
I didn’t watch him pull out of our driveway. I ran back in, and I knew I loo ked pink and
flushed and bright-eyed. I knew that Mom felt validated about whisking me off to Paris. I
couldn’t stop the love for him from brimming out of me, and it was so intense it was dangerous. I
knew that, and she knew it.
Chapter Three
I forced myself to sit at the table and sip cocoa and chatter happily. Thorsten pretended t o
cry about Mom and me leaving him for a week and a half, but I knew he would be happy to walk
around in his underwear and smoke his pipe on the porch. Mom was very giggly and Thorsten
was pretty silly himself. I was fairly sure that they were at least toasted enough to turn in early,
and I wound up being right. They wobbled off to bed after they kissed and hugged me goodnight,
and I sat on the couch and looked at our bright, pretty Christmas tree for a while . Then I took the
DVDs Jake bought for me and headed to my room.
I peeled off my stockings and dress and put on my pajama pants and top. They were
cute. I made sure, since Jake would be over soon. I flipped through the movies until I found the
one I wanted, even though I didn’t really want it.
It was my absolute favorite, Sense and Sensibility, the one with Kate Winslet as
Marianne. I put it in and started watching. And, even though I didn’t want to, I felt a wave of
sadness when Willoughby rode up and saved Marianne, holding her in his arms with such
outright chivalry. The scene is really romantic, but it’s also tragic because Willoughby isn’t
going to be Marianne’s true love. He’s going to spurn her in favor of a rich heiress so that he can
keep his lifestyle. And he winds up leaving Marianne crushed. I know this story by heart. I’ve
thought about it a thousand times. Because someone got it in my head and now I can’t get it back
out.
That someone was Saxon Maclean. Earlier in the year I thought I might fall in love (or
lust) with Saxon. Then I thought I would hate him forever. Then he told me something about
Jake that changed everything, and since then, I haven’t been able to get Saxon out of my head.  
On my birthday he left a book on my windowsill. It was Sense and Sensibility, and
before I had a chance to read it and make my own judgments about it, I read his inscription to
me. Which basically said that I was Marianne and he was Willoughby, that our love was true, but
ultimately wouldn’t work. That Austen was smart for sticking me with Colonel Brando n (Jake?
Not really a great fit.), and that I should be smart enough to stick with my fated role.
He had fallen off of the radar just before my birthday. For a while, he didn’t even show
up at school. We were supposed to spend the day together as part of a government assignment,
but I wound up going with another girl who won third place in our class competition. He was
gone for almost three weeks, then he was back and no one knew where he’d gone or why. He
hardly looked my way, didn’t talk to me, and close d his Facebook account. He left me the book
on my birthday and other than that, it was just a look once in a while that let me know he was
working really hard at keeping his distance.
The problem was that I couldn’t keep myself from thinking about him. He  had almost
driven a permanent wedge between me and Jake, but then backed off. He took the heat when
Jake could have been mad at me, and then he told me the thing that shook me to my core; he and
Jake had the same father, a fact Jake was still in the dark about. Saxon also told me that he didn’t
want Jake to know, didn’t want to disappoint him as a blood brother in addition to disappointing
him as a friend. He told me that if Jake wasn’t with me, he’d fight for me. And he’d vanished.
I never told Jake. Beyond the whole problem of Saxon liking me, Jake and Saxon had
grown up close, and Saxon had exposed Jake to a lot of vices. When Jake finally had enough of
that crazy lifestyle, he cut Saxon completely out of his life, and he hadn’t dealt with him again
until I came into the picture. It would make sense for me to stay as far away from Saxon as I
could. 
There was just one problem.
I could never quite wriggle out of Saxon’s grasp, no matter how hard I tried. And
something in me didn’t want to. There was something about him that drew me in, whether I liked
it or not. I wanted to talk to him more, specifically about the whole Jake thing,  but he just
avoided me or flat-out ignored me. It sucked, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I cried a little at the scene where Marianne sees Willoughby at the ball  and he brushes
her off. It wasn’t that I wanted Saxon to want me or fight for me; it was  just that if he felt that
way and was open about it, we couldn’t even be friends. Jake hated him so much it wasn’t even
an option to bring it up to him. It was a lost cause.
Before I knew it, my phone rang. I slid my window up and helped him in. He smiled and
put a finger to his lips.
Jake had snuck in before, but he didn’t like to make a habit of it. Especially since   he met
my parents. He knew they didn’t really approve of him, and doing anything to make that sense
stronger didn’t work for him at all.
But there was the undeniable attraction between us that always managed to skew his
judgment and force him to bend his rules. Which worked for me.
I had never been much of a rebel, but Mom’s new tactics were teaching me something I
don’t think she expected; I was learning that I had to do what I needed to do without worrying
about who I was hurting. I had to be a little selfish.
I knew Mom would have freaked out if she knew that was how I interpreted her speech.
Jake shed everything down to his boxers and slid the neat pile under my bed. He wiggled
in between the covers and snuggled up to me. His clothes and skin were  still icy cold from
running in the night air, across the fields and through the woods. He didn’t park close because he
was afraid someone would recognize the truck. I put my hands on his body, ran them up and
down his back and along the muscles of his shoulders and arms. He pulled a long piece of my
hair and brought it to his nose.
“Your hair smells like cinnamon.” He breathed it in and hummed with contentment low
in his throat.
“It’s my holiday shampoo,” I whispered.
He laughed quietly. “Holiday shampoo. You’re a weird girl.”
“Just because you don’t celebrate at all doesn’t mean that I never want to.” I poked him
in the ribs under the blankets.
“I’m sorry.” He brushed his fingertips over my face. “Next year I’ll get candycane
deodorant and mistletoe aftershave.”
“I think mistletoe is poisonous.” I giggled.
“I’m willing to sacrifice to get into the holiday spirit. I want to be a hardcore Christmaser
like you.” He kissed me softly. “Maybe you can snag me one of the pictures Thorsten took of
you today.”
“It was a great dress, wasn’t it?” I sighed.
“I guess.” He kissed me again. “I just think you looked amazing. I don’t know if you
realize how pretty you are.”
“Oh, I do.” I put my hands on either side of his face. “I totally use it against you. Bat an
eyelash, get you to carry my lunch tray. Toss my hair, you run over to my house and jump in my
window.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m just your little monkey on a string.”
“You’ve got that right,” I said. 
And then we were kissing again, and then the kisses got deeper and Jake’s hands were all
over me. I relaxed back into the mattress and closed my eyes in the dark. I loved the cool,
scratchy feel of his skin on mine. He touched me where I was softest and where I was most
sensitive, and I loved it. It was like  he had an instinct about how to make me feel incredible. I
touched back, and soon the world had narrowed in exactly the way I loved it to. It was just me
and Jake in my bed, all roving hands and kisses.
And then, in the middle of it all, I heard someone in the kitchen.
Jake snatched back from me like I’d burned him. I righted my pajamas and pushed at
him.
“Under the bed,” I whispered.
He was off the bed and scurried under in a few silent seconds. I could hear him
breathing, and I was positive it was the  loudest sound in the world, but I couldn’t tell him to stop.
My heart hammered, and I tried to relax my own breathing, but, in the midst of pure,
palpitating panic, I couldn’t remember how people breathed when they slept. Trying to breath
too slow made me  need to gulp bigger breaths. I suddenly had an itch on my nose that I didn’t
want to scratch, but I realized I must scratch my nose in my sleep sometimes. I felt like the
seconds stretched out forever, as I lay on my bed, breathing erratically and trying  not to scratch
what had become the most unbearably itchy nostril in the world.
I imagined getting caught. I imagined my mother’s extreme disappointment. I imagined
what it would be like if she made me dump Jake. How the house would light up on this otherwise
peaceful night and be full of arguments and accusations, disappointment and crushed trust. My
stomach clenched, and I felt sweat break out under my armpits. I bit the inside of my lip and
willed this whole thing to be over.
Minutes of shuffling later, and my door cracked open. I relaxed my muscles and kept my
eyes closed.
My mother’s bare feet padded across the room, and stopped inches away from where
Jake lay under my bed. I couldn’t hear a sound from him, but I was nervous he was holding his
breath. What if he let it out in one long rush and my mother heard?
The mattress creaked under her weight as she sat on the side of it. It was pure, agonizing
torture to keep my eyes closed and not sit up and just confess to end all of the nervous anxiety of
the mo ment. I felt Mom’s hand smoothing my hair, then she leaned over and kissed my forehead.
She stayed less than a minute, then stood up and headed back out of my room, closing
the door behind her quietly.
Jake stayed under the bed for a long time. Finally  I had to call him out.
“Jake, are you still there?” I felt guilty. I had convinced him to come over. This would
probably be the last time.
He spoke softly from under my bed. “I’m here, Bren.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” His voice was flat.
“I shouldn’t have convinced you to come.” I chewed on my lip nervously. Jake didn’t
say anything. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that I’m so glad we weren’t sound asleep.” He pulled out from under the
bed. He’d managed to get his clothes on, and he knelt on the side, not daring, I was sure, to climb
back in next to me.
“You’re leaving now, aren’t you?” My voice had that wobble I despised.
“You can’t really want me to stay. What if Mom is having indigestion? She could be
back every hour. Let me go. You get a good night’s sleep, and work on getting out for a few
hours tomorrow. I’ll call out from Zinga’s so I’m ready if you need me.”
Jake never, ever called out from work. I knew he was offering me an olive branch so I
didn’t flake out. And I knew it was completely ridiculous of me to even contemplate flaking out.
He was right, he was reasonable, I was being selfish.
Maybe Mom had underestimated my capacity for selfishness.
“Okay, go.” But I wasn’t ready for him to leave, and I wasn’t happy he was  going.
He pulled me close and kissed me, a long, thorough kiss that had only the barest hint of
his desperation to be gone.
After a few more minutes of my pulling him to me and his pulling away, he vanished
back into the goose-bump inducing black. I wat ched him run across the fields and back to his
truck, somewhere in the dark, cold night, from my window. Now the bed would feel even larger
and emptier. The night stretched longer and lonelier than it ever had before. I couldn’t help the
tears that fell. The frigid air outside made me feel better, and soon I was cold and shivering. I got
back under the covers and dreamed about Jake and Saxon, racing around the school track, me in
a snow globe watching them, pounding on the thick, clear glass. I woke up with a start in the
early dawn, then fell back into a restless sleep until long after sunrise.
Mom knocked lightly on my door. I was already awake, but not up. My first thought was
that she knew what I had done last night, and she was coming to give me a long , long lecture. I
felt panic sweep through me.
“Sweetheart? Did you get a chance to finish packing?” She waited outside my door,
looking like part of her wanted to barge right in while another part of her thought staying out was
a better idea.
It occurred to me that Mom was just unsure how much space and privacy to give me.
“Come in, Mom.” I patted the bed, just like she would do for me. “I finished packing yesterday.”
“What did you pack for a jacket?” she quizzed.
“My blue wool trench coat.”
“Good. And for nights out?”
“I have the red silk from last night, with stockings and my black mohair sweater.” I
stretched my arms over my head. “What coat are you bringing?”
“I thought my new plaid. The one with the orange in it.”
“Ooh, that one is so pretty.” I had definitely inherited my love of gorgeous clothes from
my mother. “I love the lining. It’s too bad no one ever gets to see it.”
“You’re right. It does have that gorgeous Japanese floral and bird thing going on. Well,
I’ll be sure to fold it inside o ut whenever I hold it.”
“And I’ll appreciate it every time I see it.” There was nothing like an amazing, hidden
lining. “So, what’s on the itinerary for Paris?”
“The usual museums and churches, but we’ll have a lot of free time, down time. And the
other professors will be bringing their families, so there will be kids your age.” She smiled. “A
bunch of nerdy professors’ kids.”
I grinned. “Yeah right. You, a nerdy professor? Thorsten and I had to wait half an hour
last time we came to pick you up. There were so many hot young guys drooling over  you I could
barely see you.”
Mom laughed, and I remembered how much I loved that sound all over again. A
desperate need to see Jake crashed over me. I didn’t want to tear this moment apart, but I knew
she and I would have lots of time together in the next few days. Just as I was about to open my
mouth…
“Brenna, if you want to go out with Jake today, you should. You won’t see him for a
while, and I’ll be busy getting everything in order here.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I looked at her face, but she didn’t meet my eyes. I could sense my
mom’s intentions warring with her guilt. Instead of trying to figure it all out, I kissed her cheek
and got up. “I’ll give him a call so we can go out early. What time is our flight?”
“Five in the morning. Bright and early.” She smiled apologetically.
Yuck. Our five in the morning was Paris’s eleven. If the plane flight took eight hours,
we’d land right around seven at night, Paris time. “I’ll be ready,” I promised. Mom kissed my
forehead and l eft me.
I got up and picked through my many watches. I selected  my old pink leopard print
watch and set it to Paris time. I liked to get myself thinking ahead so I didn’t get severe jet lag.
Then I called Jake.
“Hey Bren.” His voice was adorably sleepy.  “How is it in the Blixen house?”
“Getting ready for travel.” I twirled my watch on my wrist. “How about you and me
spending the whole day together?”
“Your wish is my command.” He sounded much more awake.
“Do you need to go back to bed?” I didn’t want to dwell on the night before. It was just
so far from what I had wanted. It wound up being rushed and guilt -filled and completely
unromantic.
“Why are you always so obsessed with getting me into bed?” he teased. “I am not tired.”
I heard him get up out of bed, and, if I closed my eyes, I could picture it – his long,
muscled body with only a pair of boxers hanging low on his hips, his hair cutely mussed, the
phone at his ear, and, especially, that great smile with its chipped front tooth and twisted eye
tooth. “I want to see you soon. How ready are you?” His voice was awake now.
“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” I hopped off the bed, ran to my closet, and pulled out
an outfit.
“Good, because I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and I’m taking you captive as  soon as I
get there. Go get ready.”
We got off the phone and I got in the shower. I was as quick as I could be, but I felt like I
had to shave, and I always felt like it was a waste of good conditioner if I didn’t leave it in for a
full five minutes. It was just a theory of mine, but I didn’t think the possibility of frizzy hair was
worth cutting conditioning time short, even if I was trying to rush it. When I got out, I dried my
hair quickly and put makeup on as fast as I could. I threw on black knit legg ings and this great
bright blue tunic sweater. I pulled on a pair of high boots with fur on them. They seemed kind of
silly, but I loved them at the same time. I slung a wide belt over my hips and took it off, then put
it on again. I tied on my ‘B’ necklace and selected a pair of dangling silver earrings Thorsten got
me in Sweden when we visited. Since Jake wasn’t there yet, I applied more eye makeup and slid
on a headband that I took off right away. Just when I was feeling certifiably stir crazy, I heard
Jake’s tires crunch on our gravel.
Right there, in the middle of my room, I did a little happy, hopping dance since no one
was there to see me and I felt, in that moment, so perfectly, burstingly happy that I needed to
expend that feeling. This wave of sublime bliss washed over me, and I was buoyed like I was full
of golden light.
Then Jake was in my doorway.
“Jake!” I wasn’t dancing anymore, but the only times he’d ever been in my room were
when he snuck over at night or while Mom was teaching and Thorsten was at work.
“Mom told me to come and tell you I was here. She was in the garage getting out a big,
big suitcase.” He leaned against my doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his
face.
“Did you help her?” My mother was fiercely independent, to the point where she’d
rather fall off of a ladder backwards than ask for a hand.
He rolled his eyes. “No. I love to see crazy moms fall down attic stairs with their arms
full of luggage.” He strode into my very feminine room and filled it up with his big, beautiful
guyish being. He picked me up and swung me around, and it felt as good as I always imagined it
would. “After I helped her get everything down, I came to check on you. I kind of hoped you
would still be in your towel.”
I popped a hard kiss on his mouth. “When did you become such a pervert?”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me. I made you something.” He pulled a jewel case out of
his jacket pocket. It was a new, thick, warm Carhart jacket. Mom and Thorsten had picked it up
for his birthday along with new gloves and a hat. I thought he would be offended, but Thorsten
got all puffed up about how “working men need working clothes,” and Jake accepted them
happily. I loved Thorsten so much sometimes.
“Did you make me a mix?” I hopped from foot to foot again. What can I say? Jake Kelly
awakened my inner dancer.
“Yea.” He put his hands on my hips and held tight. “No screaming, and just enough
whiny boys to keep you happy.”
“Thank you, Jake.” I kissed him. “I’ll listen to it on the way to Paris.” I noticed the new
watch I bought him. “Let me see that.” I pointed.
He gave me the watch, and I spun the knobs expertly. I loved the tiny mechanisms on
watches, and I loved the rapid spin of the hands around the face when you changed the time.
“Um, you’re like six hours off.” Jake glanced at the watch face.
“Paris is six hours off,” I clarified. “Six hours later than we are.”
“Oh.” He looked at it again. “It’s weird that we’ll be in totally different time zones. Like,
you’ll be right in the middle of  your day when I’m waking up.”
It sounded very melancholy, whether Jake meant it that way or not. “It’s not for a long
time.”
“I was just making a time-based observation.” He took the watch out of my hand and
wrapped it around his wrist. “I want you to do this. You need to get some more traveling under
your belt so you’ll be ready for Italy. I’m not going to be any help.”
I loved that he took the idea of Italy so seriously. “Okay. Maybe we should take Italian
next year.” Jake had discussed doing Share T ime, meaning he’d go half the day to the academic
high school and half the day to technical school, like I did. He was currently enrolled full time in
the tech school we both went to, but it wasn’t very academically challenging.
“Ooh la la.” He nuzzled my  neck.
I laughed. “That’s French, Jake.”
“I’m trying.” He grinned.
I ran my hands over him, along his wide back and up his neck and through his
surprisingly silky hair. I felt his soft cheek, newly shaved and nicked right at the jaw, and pulled
on his ear lobes. He licked at my mouth, and I melted into him willingly. This was heaven.
Jake pulled away suddenly. “Sorry, babe,” he said shakily. “Much more, and your
parents will have good reason to shoot me. You want to head out?”
So we said our goodbyes and got into his big blue truck, and it was just me and Jake
driving all over Sussex County. I felt a crushing sadness that this was the end of our winter break
together instead of the beginning, but I tried to push all of those thoughts aside.
“I think there’re a few things you need to do before you leave American soil.” Jake
busted me out of my sad thinking. We pulled into the Hampton Diner. “You need to eat at a
good, greasy diner.”
“Mmm. Perfect.” I loved this diner. It was the place where  Jake and I celebrated our
newly-minted relationship with apple pie a la mode the day he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Not only did Jake order way too much delicious food, he stopped the waitress from
getting too oogly over him by asking her to take our picture in front of said delicious food.
“What’s the picture for?” I turned the camera so I could see our smiling faces over the
whipped-cream covered desserts we were working through.
“Your photo project.” He lifted a forkful of lemon meringue pie to my lips, and I took a
bite. “I’ve decided to do Sussex County before and after Brenna Blixen. So there will be life with
you, then life without you.”
“Sounds awesome.” I scooped a forkful of cheesecake with strawberries and whipped
cream and offered Jake a bite. “Any layout ideas?”
“Before will be really dynamic, full color, and beautiful.” He dipped into the chocolate
crème pie and held it out to me. “After will be a flat format in black and white, washed out, sad.
What do you think?”
“I think you’re kind of adorable.” I sipped his Coke instead of my own milkshake just
because I wanted to drink out of his cup and not because I was at all thirsty for soda.
“I think you’re kind of gorgeous.” Suddenly his gray eyes raked over me, hot and
hungry. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over the bump of my ring, then pulled me across
the table and kissed me. “Food won’t be as delicious without you,” he said solemnly.
I held up a fork loaded with flaky apple pie. “Maybe some food will lose its taste. Not
this food. Never.”
Jake shrugged. “Maybe my taste buds will just go dead without you.”
“I hope not!” I put a hand to my heart.
“Don’t worry about me…” he began.
“I’m not worried about you,” I interrupted. “If your taste buds die from longing, mine
will be obligated to die, too. And what fun will Paris be if I can’t taste all the delicious food?”
“You’re a caring girl, Bren.” He scooped a dab of whipped cream on his finger and
swiped it onto my nose. “Alright. I’ll let half of my taste buds go dead.”
“Like flying a flag at half mast?” I stuck my tongue out and attempted to lick the
whipped cream off my nose.
“That’s right. But I’ll taste all the good stuff, in your honor.”
“Consider me honored.” I gave up on getting the whipped cream off on my tongue,
swiped at my nose with a napkin, and Jake laughed. It was a good, deep sound and it made me
feel warm and happy.
Jake and I went to both of our schools and snapped obligatory pictures while I
complained. “Being near school the day after Christmas seems so wrong!” I wrapped my arms
around my chest as the wind whistled hard and cold.
“Shut up and pose!” he called from behind the camera lens.
I struck a studious pose. We went to the overlook where we had skipped school, the bar
where Folly had its first concert, the movie theater where we’d had our first real date, the
Chinese restaurant where we’d shared our first meal. Jake made me stand and sit and smile and
frown until he had enough pictures to wallpaper his room.
“Okay,” he said, finally. “Just one more place that will miss you.”
“Where’s that?” I stepped close to him, and he wrapped me in a tight hug.
“My room.” His voice was a little sad despite all our fun.
We headed to his drab little house. It had a wreath on the door, but no lights around it.
There was a tree inside decorated only with glass balls. There were no sentimental ornaments
with school pictures of Jake or popsicle creations with too much glitter. It looked like a tree they
had stolen from a dreary bank lobby.
Jake’s room was only minimally improved from when I’d first seen it. There were now
pictures and drawings and notes taped or tacked neatly over most of the wall behind his bed. He
had more stuff around too. There were framed photos of us, random items from our dating life.
He had a pair of clean chopsticks from our first Chinese food date on his desk next to the piles of
books on tape I’d been giving him for weeks. Some of my barrettes were scattered around along
with a couple of bangles that I’d forgotten. He never wanted me to take them when I le ft, so I let
them live on his desk and imagined him looking at them once in a while and thinking about me.
“Sit on my bed,” he instructed.
I sat cross-legged on his bed and smiled. He snapped the picture. “How does it look?”
“Perfect.”
That was the last thing he said for a long time.
He kissed and held me so gently it made me feel a little sad. He smelled my hair and
nuzzled my neck and ran his hands over my face and my body softly, like I was delicate and
would break if he was too rough. We reached and touched and rolled over one another, twining
together like we would never see each other again.
He ran his finger over the gold posey ring. “Was it too much?”
“It was perfect. I’m sorry I got a little freaked out. It just felt…official.” I looked down at
the shiny ring of gold on my finger.
“It will be official someday.” He tilted my face with his fingers and looked into my eyes.
“Because I’m never letting you go.” He wrapped his arms around me and nestled his nose in my
neck. “Never.” His voice was muffled by my skin.
I knew what he was saying. It was a sweet, lovey thing for a guy to say to the girl he
loved. And I liked it. I really did. But I also had the sudden urge to yank the ring off of my
finger.
Why?
“You’ll have to let me go sometimes.” I didn’t mean for my voice to sound as panicked
as it did. I wriggled a tiny bit against his hold. “Like, what about when you go to college?”
“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about with that.” He unclamped his arms and
flopped back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“You’re going to college. You have to go to college.” It was a no -brainer for me. What
else was there to do if you didn’t go to college? How would you learn what you needed to learn
about life and yourself? What would you do if you did n’t go?
“I’ll be happy for you when you go.” He shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter to
him whether he went or not.
I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. “Jake, you have to go. Are you seriously
thinking that you’re not going?” A little bubble  of panic swelled in me and threatened to burst
wide open.
He looked at me, his eyes a little sad, his mouth fixed in a set smile. “You have a lot of
opportunities that other people don’t get, Bren. And that’s cool. That’s what I want for you. But
that doesn’t mean everybody has all those advantages. I don’t, it’s alright, and I’m gonna be
there for you when you need me. Okay?”
He meant it to be sweet. I knew he did, but it made me so furious, I felt like I’d
swallowed something cloying and spicy. My skin burned and I couldn’t think straight all of a
sudden. “No. Not okay. I know things are really good for me. I know that. But you can’t just give
up on wanting more! There are people who can help you. You can take other classes. You can
apply for loans. Don’t you want to see more? Don’t you want to experience things?” I looked at
him, but his gray eyes were calm and serene.
He reached out and took my hand. “Being with you has made so much in my life better. I
don’t need to do all the same stuff you do. I’m a simple guy, Bren. I know you need more than
Sussex County, and I’d never stop you from doing what you have to. And if you need me, I’ll
follow you. And if you’re doing your own thing, I’ll be here waiting. And I’ll be fine.”
I wanted to argue. I really wanted to argue badly. But I had a feeling my arguments
would go right over his head. How could I explain wanting some intangible more to someone so
content with what little he’d been given?
And then, just as quickly as it flared up, all of my anger melted away, and I decided to
not go crazy about the whole issue of Jake’s future. Because he was destined for better; I was
sure about that. It might take him longer to realize it, but he wouldn’t just stay in Sussex County
forever. He’d start to realize there was more out there.
“Hey.” He pulled me down next to him. “What are you all worried for? I’m the one who
should be worried. You’re jetting off to the most romantic city in the world, all hot and fine like
you are. And I’m here chopping cut trees into firewood.” When he smiled at me, it was shaky
with worry.
“All the more reason for you to brush up on your Italian for our big trip.” It wasn’t
college, but it was travel, and he said he wanted it, so I knew it meant he dreamt about more than
our current tiny life. Or did he want it because I wanted him to want it? I swallowed the lump
that jumped up in my throat.
“Bren, promise me something,” Jake said when I was pinned under him.
“Okay,” I answered, nervous at what he might ask.
“Don’t fall in love with some slick French dude.” He rubbed my nose with his.
“I think French guys are really short.” I grabbed his shirt in both hands and pulled him
back to me for a kiss, and I made it hard and hungry, to push away the doubts that swirled around
in my head.
“I heard they’re ugly, too,” Jake said between kisses. “And weenies.”
“And smelly.” I arched my neck so he had better access. “And womanizers.”
Jake shook his head and buried his face in my hair. “Alright, now I’m relieved. I thought
I might have something to worry about.”
“Never,” I promised. And at that minute, I meant it with my whole heart.
Finally, too soon, it was time for Jake to bring me home. He didn’t want to come in. He
crushed me in his arms for a long time under the bright, clear  stars. When he let me go, the cold
was so jarring my teeth clattered.
“I love you, Brenna. Come home quick. Life is so damn boring without you.”
“I love you. I’ll be home before you know it.”
And then he was gone. I felt like the entire world dimmed, like it rotated more slowly on
its axis because I wouldn’t see Jake for more days than I really wanted to count.
But there was Paris. Mom had already gone to bed when I got home, even though it was
early. Mom had strong theories about jet lag, and she had devised a sleep syst em that made no
sense to me.
I got ready for bed super early and turned in without bothering to call Jake. I wanted to,
but it was too sad. I felt like I wanted to remember him leaving the way he had left. The next
time I called him, I’d be in France and  excited and have happy things to tell him. That would
make being away from him a little more bearable.