Jensen Packard opened the door to his house and stepped in.
He dumped his phone and keys to the table. He removed his suit and dumped that on the nearest chair. Then he walked to the bar... Taking a bottle of red wine and a glass. Then he went back to the sitting room and dumped those on the table as well.
He walked to the kitchen. He headed straight for the refrigerator, took out a carton of juice and lifted it to his lips. He drank half of it, then stuck it back inside.
He went to the back door. Through the windowpane, he looked out into the dark night and after a moment heard a flurry of movement outside, followed by a frantic scratching at the woodwork.
"Rufus" He pulled the door open, and a large gray dog burst into the kitchen on a blast of cold air.
"Hey buddy" he said. "I missed you too"
Jensen reached down to pat him the dog on it's head. "You have awful breath, do you know that?". He scratched the dog's wiry head and laughed. "And you are a bit of a scruff bag, too. If you ever hope to interest that little Pekingese down the road, you will have to do something about yourself"
He heated up some food for Rufus. While Rufus ate. He grabbed something to eat from a cabinet. Then he walked back to the sitting room and sat down. He poured out a glass of wine. He raised the glass to his mouth, took a long drink and set the glass down on the table.
It was moments like this that made him wish he could cook, or at least had someone around to do it. He always said he didn't need a cook. His sister Elaine wasn't so far away. His brother Dillon was close too, though he had a family now. They had wanted to remain close together. Just as they were when they were kids... After their parents had died in a crash. Besides they all loved the town, so they all stayed. And so he hadn't seen the need to hire a cook.
Well right now he wished he had... Too bad he didn't know how to cook. The smooth flavor of the wine was on his tongue, but what he craved was egg salad sandwiches.
There was nothing he could do about what he wanted, so he did the only thing he could do...
He ate a whole damn bag of barbecued potatoe chips.
He was tired. After working tirelessly for months, his building 'Crimson Bay' was ready. He was happy.. But very tired. His phone on the glass table buzzed. He ignored it.
He was not in the mood for any more work today. And he was sure the text was about work. What else could it be about? He was tired and right now, he was going to rest. After so much work, he deserved it. He would check the text tomorrow. Who ever it was from.
He left the sitting room. He needed a shower. But he didn't think he had to strength to get into the damn bathroom. So he didn't even bother to shower.
So instead he went straight to the bedroom. He lay on the bed
He fell asleep.
———————————————
Katherine Kavell stared at her phone.
It had been an hour since she had sent that text... And yet no reply. She began to pace her living room. She began to regret her actions. Maybe sending that text wasn't such a good idea at all.
She sighed. It had taken her hours... Actually days to bring herself to send that text.
This was all Jon's fault. She thought. This was his stupid idea from hell. He was the one who came up with the idea of texting Jensen. Jensen Packard.... Who she hadn't seen in years.... Five years to be exact. They hadn't even spoken to each other... In five fucking years. And she had just texted him.. Asking to have lunch with him next week. Like nothing had happened between them. Like they had remained friends these past years. Like they had kept in touch.
Honestly she would be surprised if he replied. Infact she didn't even expect him to. And yet the fact that he had done exactly what she expected bothered her a lot.
She had let her brother Jonathan talk her into this. She shouldn't have. She realized that now.
"Trust me" Jon had said. "Jensen's new building is going to be perfect for you. You gotta see it, dear, it's amazing"
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she had asked. "Considering how things ended between us"
"Chill" Jon had replied. "That was five years ago...nothing actually happened. You guys were the ones who made such a big deal. I'm sure it's not going to be a problem"
Of course he would think so. He and Jensen had been friends since like forever. And so she had let him talk her into it. Katherine stared at her phone again. Still no reply. She was getting pissed... At Jensen for not replying... At herself for listening to Jon and at Jon for bringing up such a stupid, stupid idea.
She was going to have to yell at someone. And that person was going to be Jon. He really was going to get it from her. She knew he was just trying to help her. But his help was making her look stupid and feel so terrible about herself. She wanted to scream into a pillow.
A noise coming from the hallway interrupted her thoughts. She turned.
Her eight year old son, Timothy stood at the doorway.
"Hey mom" he said.
"Hey sweetie" she replied. "Why are you up?....You should be asleep"
"I heard a noise...It woke me" said Tim, scratching one leg with the other.
"Oh... Must be me then" Katherine said. "I'm sorry I woke you up... But you need to go back to sleep honey"
He frowned. "Why are you up, mom? Is something wrong?"
"No not really... I was just waiting for a text... Or phone call... I'm not sure what I was expecting really...but it's fine. It's nothing really"
"Is it about us moving?...You are not changing your mind now... Are you?... You know I really want us to live close to Uncle Jon"
Katherine smiled "Yes... I know that... And No... I'm not changing my mind... So let's get you back to bed"
She walked towards him. Taking him by the hand and they both walked back to his bedroom. She would have preferred to carry him. But lately he had been letting her know he wasn't a little boy anymore. He wanted to be treated like a big boy that he was.Katherine smiled as she thought of it. He was one of the reasons she was moving. He loved Jonathan and he was always sad everytime Jon visited them and had to go back. His excitement when she told him they were moving was so great. She couldn't bear to disappoint him now.So they were moving. Five years later. Back to her hometown. Back to Jensen Packard.She wasn't going to like this. Of course she wanted to get closer to her brother too. He was the closest thing Tim had to a father right now. And she knew Tim needed one. She wanted Tim to have one.The problem was Jensen Packard. She wasn't sure about seeing him again. And judging from the way he igno
The message read:Hi Jensen,I know this is out of the blue so…surprise! It's been a while, huh? I know... Guess we have both been really busy.Anyway, Jon told me you are opening a brand new building back at home. Congrats on all your awesome accomplishments, by the way.It is actually the reason why I am texting you right now, but I don't think we should discuss this in a text or on the phone for that matter. That is why I would love for us to meet next week and discuss this in person.You pick any day you will be free and I will be there. I do hope I hear from you soon.Best, Katherine Kavell.Jensen frowned. Memories he had fought so hard to surpres rushing back at him. Anger blazed in his chest. Singeing. Devastating. He had to hand it to her. He thought. The woman had a lot of fucking nerve.So this was how she was going to play it? No '
She was such a pain in the ass.He was Seventeen... And she was Thirteen.Jensen discovered that she had an annoying habit of popping up at the worst possible moment. Really embarrassing moments.Like when he was at the back of his house drinking one of his dad's beer. Or when he was making out with some girl behind the old well.One time he chased her, all the way to her house. He was determined to teach a lesson... Teach her not to mess with him. But when he caught her, he just couldn't. He let her go. Then watched as she tried to dust the sand off her clothes. Her face red.He smiled. "Kitty Kat" he said.She answered by calling him a dork.One time she stole a pack of cigarettes from him and broke them all in two. He wasn't even smoking them, he just carried them around to look cool. He didn't know what to do with her.
He was Twenty five and she was twenty one.He was going on some errand for his grandfather or something —he couldn't remember what it was. Because the moment he saw her walk down the beach toward the dock he had forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.He was hidden in a group of trees. Oh yes —he remembered now —he was cutting wood from a tree that had fallen when he heard the hinges squeak and a screen door slam. He cast a quick glance toward the house where a girl in bright blue bikini came down the front porch steps and crossed the lawn.He leaned a shoulder against a tree and just watched her. She had a great body. He had thought.Then he recognized her face. He couldn't believe it. It was Katherine Kavell—kitty Kat.He stared at her, his mouth open.Gone was the awkward teen who wore too much make up and followed him everywher
He hadn't moved, only watched her. He said nothing until she finally glanced up at him. He gave her a long look she would have to be blind not to understand.And she got it. Her face flushed and she looked down quickly, rubbing the hell out of her her legs so she missed the grin he had to bite to hide. She straightened then, still holding the towel. She raised her chin a little, defiant and challenging, the Kitty Kat he remembered. He smiled.A moment passed. A minute or two. Neither said anything. They just stood on the dock and looked at each other under the warm and unpredictable sunshine. He felt like a thirsty man staring at an icy cold beer.She returned his look, then whispered his name in that raspy grown up voice he felt go all the way through him."Jensen" she said softly.Just Jensen — his name was all she said.And he was lost."Hey Kitty —" he said.
They swam on the cove where the water was shallow and warm enough to enjoy. One time they hung out in a sailboat's small cabin, laughing at the weather and eating a Lunch of egg salad sandwiches and barbecued potato chips she had brought along. Years later, he couldn't eat barbecued potatoe chips without thinking of that day —without thinking about her.They spent so much time together. They talked about everything. About school. About poetry. About music and movies they loved. They talked about life and death and dreams.One day they went to their childhood favorite place. The place where she had seen him cry. The place that had become their favorite spot. They stayed out there till late in the evening, and when they decided to go back, on their way he pinned her against a tree and did the one thing he had wanted to do since he saw her again on that beach.He pinned get against a tree and kissed the hell out of he
He tried not to let out bother him much.Till Jonathan had told him she planned to move away for good — with Mitch.What the hell? He couldn't let her do that. Even if she was doing a damn good job of hiding it he knew she still had a thing for him. He saw it in her eyes whenever he saw her, the sharp intake of her breath whenever he was close to her, with the way she did everything possible to avoid him.He couldn't let her go. He forgot about his decision to respect her wish and he went after her.And so he told her. The night before she left. Told her he wanted her to stay....Begged her to stay. She didn't want to listen. She said Mitch cared about her and she was going to try to make it work between them.In his opinion Mitch didn't care about her like he did. Mitch didn't deserve her. And he told her that.Telling her that hadn't helped matters. Be
One day, Eight hours and…six minutes.That was how long the text had been sitting in Jensen's inbox. He detested that he was reduced to even knowing how long it had parked itself in his consciousness, taunting him with it's presence.Taunting him with that gut twisting mix of hope and bitterness he thought he was finally rid of. He detested the fact that it had taken just one text from her to reduce him to this. He hated that she still had that effect on him. After five damn years.How he wished it were one of those mundane work texts or emails he had become so adept at passing to his assistant to deal with.Then, from a safe distance, it would have been so easy to tell her to handle it. Or, better yet, delete it.But here it was. Not handled. Not deleted.And about as far from mundane as it could get.Not when he had already read