Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(9)

“So I heard you’re not going on the trip,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, right,” Jessica answered, pretending it had slipped her mind. “I have something going on that weekend.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” he said. “You know how I am. Incapable of having fun if my friends aren’t all with me. Curse of the only child or something. So I was thinking, if cost was the issue, please let me cover you, Jess. You’d be doing me a favor, because it won’t be any fun without you, and I’ll be miserable and lonely the whole time.”

The guy was such a prince, it hurt her heart sometimes. He was also a liar. He was best friends with Levi, in love with Faith in such a sappy way that it was a shock that bluebirds didn’t follow them around. Jer was friends with everyone he’d ever met.

As they pulled into West’s Trailer Park, Jess let herself imagine that Jeremy was her boyfriend. That he’d dump Faith and fall for her, and love Davey—he was already good to Davey—and take care of them for the rest of their lives.

“What do you say, Jess? Will you do that for me?”

She cleared her throat. “That’s really nice, Jeremy, but it’s not the money. Philly’s really not my thing, you know? Plus, I’m working that weekend. But thanks.” She blew him a kiss and ran inside before the casual act slipped.

That Friday night, when her classmates were in the city of brotherly love, a huge party of middle-aged fraternity brothers came into Hugo’s, and Hugo gave the table to Jess. They left her a tip of $250.

Too little, too late.

On Sunday she took Davey to the fair in Corning and bought him corn dogs and popcorn and root beer. She screamed on the roller coaster, and he put his arm around her, laughing with glee. He loved when she was the one who was scared and he got to protect her. They both ate candied apples and then scraped the gunk off their teeth with their fingers, Jess more successfully than Davey.

When he wanted to play Shoot the Balloon, she made sure the carny got a good look down her shirt so that Davey won a huge stuffed animal, even though he only managed to pop one balloon.

It was the best day she’d had in a long time.

“I love you,” Davey said sleepily on the car ride home.

In that moment, she was so glad to be exactly where she was, with her brother, her best bud, the boy who’d had an uphill battle since the day he was born.

A battle which was largely her fault.

“I love you, too, honey-boy,” she said back, her voice husky.

Nothing was ever more true.

But as Davey slept, his head against the window, snoring slightly, Jessica couldn’t help wondering about the view she might’ve seen from that hotel, and the little soaps and shampoos, which she had fully intended on bringing home to her brother.

* * *

WHICH IS WHY, at the age of twenty-one, Jessica Dunn had never stayed in a hotel before.

It was three years past graduation, and Jess and Angela Mitchum were the only ones who hadn’t left Manningsport. Angela was a mother now, having gotten knocked up senior year. She lived on the hill with her parents and was going to school part-time to become a nurse. Sometimes, the Mitchums came to Hugo’s for dinner, and Jess always admired the baby, who was really cute.

Jess was doing what she’d always been doing—waiting tables at Hugo’s, doing a little home health aide work on the side, looking after her brother. She still lived in the trailer park, but that was going to end soon; she now saved her money in a bank, and in four more months, she’d have enough to rent a decent place in town. Two bedrooms, because of course she wasn’t leaving Davey at the mercy of her parents’ negligence.

Lately, Dad had been offering him drinks, which Davey was only too happy to take. For some completely unfathomable reason, he worshipped their father, who thought it was funny to see Davey tipsy. Mom wouldn’t like Jess taking Davey, but in the end, she’d give in. Her Vicodin was now supplied by the grungy guy at the laundromat, since the doctors had finally figured out that there was nothing wrong with Mom except addiction.

It was October, always a poignant time of year for Jess. The leaf peepers, those tourists who came up by the busload to see the foliage and drink Finger Lakes wine, were heading home, and aside from the Christmas Stroll, Manningsport would soon be quiet. Hugo closed the restaurant after Veterans Day, so Jess would have to see if she could get more hours as an aide. It didn’t pay nearly as well as waiting tables, but she didn’t have a lot of other options.

Hugo called her into his office before she started her shift that night. “I want you to take a wine class,” he said without preamble. “Felicia kills you in bottle sales, and the markup is incredible. What do you think?”

“Um...sure,” Jess said, scratching her wrist. “But I don’t really drink.”

“I know, honey.” He knew about her family. Everyone did, and just in case they didn’t, Dad crashed into the restaurant at least once a year, asking where his “baby girl” was and wondering if old Hugo would give him a drink on the house. “But you’re twenty-one now. You should know about wine. What goes with different kinds of food, how to talk about it, what to recommend.”

“I just recommend the really expensive stuff,” she said.

“Which I appreciate. Still, I want you to do this, kid. It classes us up if you can talk knowledgeably about what people are drinking.”