Free Tessa Ever After by Brighton Walsh Page B

come to enjoy it.
    And I definitely don’t want to think about the way my body positively came alive when he was pressed against me on the dance floor.
    Unfortunately, the only other person here whom I could count on—Paige—knows even less about cars than I do, so with a sigh, I dial Jason’s number, waiting only a moment before his deep voice answers.
    “Hey.”
    “Hi . . .”
    The hesitancy in my voice must be obvious because he immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”
    I blow out a deep breath. “I’m not sure. My car won’t start. It just clicks whenever I try, so I don’t think it’s the battery, but I don’t know. Do you know anything about cars?”
    “I can take a look at it. I’ll be right over.”
    I glance at the clock, seeing it’s just after eight. I remember him telling me he had early classes nearly every day this semester. “You don’t have class?”
    Instead of answering, he says, “See you soon.”
    While I’m waiting for him to arrive, I call Haley’s preschool, letting them know she won’t be in today. I wait to make any other arrangements, hoping Jason can get my car started once he gets here. If that’s the case, I can make it to work on time and drop Haley at Melinda’s on the way.
    Not even ten minutes later, I hear a car pull up outside. “Haley, Mama’s gonna go out and see if Jason can figure out anything with the car. I’ll be right back in.”
    “’Kay,” she says, her eyes not moving from her coloring book.
    Grabbing my coat, I open the front door and head outside, slipping my arms in the sleeves as I walk down the path. When I get to where Jason is, he’s already got my hood up and is looking under it, fiddling with different things.
    “Hey, thanks for coming.”
    He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes taking a slow perusal of my body, and just like last Friday night, my entire body lights up from it. “No problem. So it just clicks, you said?”
    “Yeah, doesn’t turn over at all.”
    He hums, his eyes focused once again in front of him. After a few minutes of him reaching out to mess with different parts of the car, I look back and forth between his expression to where his hand is, and a smile tugs at my lips. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
    Glancing over at me, his lips curve at the corner. “Am I that transparent?”
    Laughing, I say, “Probably not to most people, but I’ve known you a long time.”
    “Yeah.” His eyes hold mine for a minute until I look away. He clears his throat, then closes the hood. “I’m not sure what the problem is, but I can call my mechanic and find out what he thinks.”
    “You have a mechanic?”
    He rolls his eyes. “My parents.”
    “Your parents have a mechanic?”
    “They have an everything.”
    In all the years Jason’s been a part of my life, I’ve met his parents only a couple times. When the guys were still in middle and high school, Jason spent a lot of time at our house when he wasn’t with his grandpa. I rarely remember Cade going over there. The lasting impression I have of them is that they’re the epitome of elitist parents, and Jason’s surety that they won’t budge about his future, despite how little he wants it, only proves that fact. How they ended up with a son like him, someone so laid-back and genuine, I’ll never know. And the really sad thing is that they’re probably disappointed in the man he’s become.
    Realizing I don’t know anything more about his situation, since we haven’t talked in a few days, I ask, “Did you decide to do anything? Talk to your parents?”
    “About what?”
    “The whole school thing . . .”
    He laughs, though it’s harsh and humorless. “Yeah, actually. I went and talked to my dad. Told him I could swallow going to work there if we could resurrect the Elise Montgomery Foundation.”
    “The one your grandpa started? Building homes for low-income families?”
    “Yep,” he says. “His answer . . . well, it was a much