My Butterfly

of those types, maybe she should have it. The heart wants what the heart wants, right?”
    I glanced back at Jeff. He was shaking his head, and it seemed as though he was frowning.
    “Well, maybe she’ll get bored of him,” he said.
    I laughed again.
    “Jeff, girls don’t just wake up one day and say, ‘You know what? I’m tired of all these nice things and smart people. I want to go live in a one-horse town with a guy who leaves her with guys like you every time his belt starts singin’.’”
    I eyed Jeff. He only shrugged his shoulders, so I kept going.
    “‘And you know what? I’ve suddenly discovered that I love the smell of ashes. Instead of nice cologne, I want a guy who comes home every night smellin’ like ashes,’” I said.
    Jeff was making his you-got-a-point face by the time I had finished.
    I sighed and skipped another rock across the lake.
    “But she’s not just any girl, Will,” Jeff said, sheepishly.
    I turned in my chair and looked back at him, and suddenly, I felt a smile fighting its way to my face.
    “You know, you’re not always very good at giving advice,” I admitted to him, patting his knee. “But every once in a while, you are.”
    He gave me a proud, goofy smile, and I sat back in my chair and locked my gaze onto the water.
    “You’re right, Jeff,” I said, smiling. “She’s not just any girl.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven
    Promise
     
     
    “W ill.”
    I turned in my chair and caught a thin blonde standing a lawn away from me on my porch. She looked like an angel, and instantly, a smile crept to my lips as I thought about Jeff’s words from a week ago: She’s not just any girl .
    “Hey,” I said in a surprised voice as I set my fishing pole onto the ground as quickly as I could get it there.
    My heart had sped up by a couple of beats per minute, but I managed to make my way over to her in record time.
    “Your aunt said you would be here this weekend,” Jules said.
    I reached her and wrapped my arms around her little body. There was a big part of me that couldn’t believe that she was standing on my porch. And I still didn’t know why she was there, but it didn’t matter. She was there.
    I tightly squeezed her, and after a long moment, I pulled my body away from hers and smiled. I was pretty sure that I had that wide, stupid smile I got sometimes—mostly when she was around—planted on my face.
    “Well, here I am. Pull up a chair,” I happily said, gesturing down the wooden porch steps and toward the lake.
    She walked with me to the water’s edge, and I watched as she fell into the chair next to mine.
    “Are they biting?” she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.
    I met her eyes and smiled, then grabbed my fishing pole again.
    “A little, but I haven’t caught any yet,” I said, falling into the wooden chair. “I heard you were back in town. For how long?”
    She seemed to hesitate before she spoke.
    “A month,” she softly said. “I’m substituting up at the school.”
    I let her answer sink in. Then, I nodded my head. I knew I had asked the question; I guessed I had just hoped the answer would have been a longer period of time, maybe even forever.
    “I don’t mind it actually,” she continued. “I kind of like it. It gives me something to do for now.”
    “The substituting?” I asked, now somewhat distracted by the thought of her leaving again.
    “Mm hmm,” she said, nodding her head.
    “I see,” I said. “Then where are you going?”
    I kind of dreaded that answer too.
    “California,” she said.
    I choked on my own breath.
    “California?” I blurted out. “What for?”
    She gently smiled.
    “School,” she said.
    I watched as she paused and fiddled with the zipper on her jacket for a second.
    “Law,” she continued.
    “Law,” I simply repeated, as I nodded my head and forced a smile. “Well, that’s your dream.”
    Silence crept into the conversation, but I squashed it within seconds.
    “But why California?” I asked. “That’s like a whole, different country. You know there’s no grass or trees out there. Isn’t there something closer?”
    I watched her toss her head back and laugh. I had forgotten how much I missed her laugh.
    “It’s warm though,” she said, with a grin.
    I paused for a second, lowered my head and then met her eyes again.
    “So, you’re telling me that if I find a way to get rid of the winter here, you’ll stay closer for once?” I asked.
    I felt one side of my mouth lifting into a