confident people on sitcoms, because I’m trying to pretend that I am one.
“Did I just…interrupt something?” asks my brother, letting his horrified tone convey exactly what he suspects that something to be. Messing with Jake is one of my favorite past-times, so I have half a mind to say something like, “Oh, Ryan, stop it, I’m on the phone!” just to really freak him out. But I refrain because, like I said, I’m very mature.
“You interrupted jumping jacks,” I say, and he sputters a laugh like I just told him a joke. “What’s wrong with you? I’m serious. I’m doing jumping jacks.”
“Wow. Did something bad happen?”
“Now, what about my statement would make you ask that?”
“Besides running, I’ve never seen you do anything close to working out. I didn’t even know you knew how to do a jumping jack. Do your feet leave the ground when you jump?”
Rude. But now I’m questioning myself.
“It’s where you starfish and then pencil, right?”
“Yeeeahhhh…something like that.” He’s fully laughing at me now.
“Knock it off, butthead.”
His chuckles trail off. “Okay, why are you starfishing?”
I hadn’t intended to tell Jake that I’m going to Chicago. Why? I’m not totally sure. I think I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him or overanalyzing everything. Because it feels like I’m tightrope walking along this relationship and the slightest breeze will kick me off to my doom.
I hate that I’m this way. I hate that life has made me so scared—but knowing it and fighting it is better than going through life oblivious to my flaws, right?
“I’m…going with Ryan to Chicago tonight…for a few days.” I let that statement hang on the line between us, and I shut my eyes tight, waiting for his response. Or his warning. Or his big-brother censure.
“Pack a heavy jacket. It’s freaking cold there.”
Wait. What? Where’s the lecture? Or the taunting? Or the million questions?
I peek my eyes back open. “Are you kidnapped or something? Where’s my overly cautious brother that’s always warning me to take things slow?”
He gives a short chuckle. “June. I love you. I want what’s best for you. And I only had to watch you with Ryan for two seconds the other day to see everything I needed to know. Go to Chicago. Have fun and don’t overthink everything. I trust him with you.”
I pack Jake’s words into my duffle bag and take them with me to the airport. Ryan showed up at my house with a coffee and a snack right after I ended the call with Jake, and I realized my brother was right. Actually, Jake’s always right, but I will take that truth with me to my grave. I need to enjoy my time with Ryan and stop trying to look eighteen steps ahead. Not everyone is Ben. Not every man is going to hurt me.
I would tattoo that statement somewhere on my body if I didn’t think people would look at me funny.
And now, I think Ryan is a mind reader, because on our way to the airport, he reaches over and takes my hand and says, “When did you get your sunflower tattoo?”
I whip my head to him. “Huh? How did you know I was thinking about tattoos?”
He grins but doesn’t look away from the road. “I can see your thoughts. Didn’t you know?” He says it so seriously that, for a second, I think he’s telling the truth. I knew he was a sorcerer of some kind. It’s how he manages to wield this powerful, sexy, man aura that I can’t resist. “June, I’m kidding. You’ve been rubbing your sunflower tattoo for the past five miles.”
“Oh.” Why do I like the sorcerer idea better? I also don’t love that I seem to put all my feelings on display when Ryan is around. Or wait. It’s a good thing to show Ryan how I’m feeling.
It’s opposite of my natural inclination, but I’m determined not to sabotage this relationship with Ryan, so I tell him everything. I tell him that after Ben broke my heart, I went straight to the tattoo parlor and had the nice man with fifteen piercings and over one hundred tattoos ink the sunflower onto my skin. It was a spontaneous decision, but I don’t regret it.
“Why after you broke up?”
I look down at my hands and fidget. “Ben didn’t like tattoos. Always said they looked kind of trashy. Which is so ironic considering he slept with someone else a week before our wedding.”
And then something amazing happens. I realize that I just