Chapter 17
Jake
She’s falling apart in my arms, and I’m helpless to do anything but hold her and wait. I wish I could take all her pain into myself, but I can’t.
I rub her back, press my lips against her hair and murmur nonsense while she shudders and shakes and sobs in my arms. I know these tears are about more than my revelation last week, but I still wish I had the power to remove the sting of my lies, along with everything else.
I bet she hasn’t cried since it happened. She wouldn’t want Ari to witness this.
My body aches for her.
We stand on the porch for a while, until her tears subside and her shoulders stop shaking and she pulls away, wiping at her face. “This is so embarrassing.”
I clench my hands at my side so I don’t give in to the urge to reach for her, or brush her hair away from her face, or pull her back into my arms. I don’t have the right.
Her eyes widen and she turns her gaze across the street. “Oh no. I have to get back.”
“Do you have any time to talk before I leave?”
She swallows. “Ari wanted to watch more of The 10th Kingdom. Can you come over now? Maybe we can talk when she goes to bed? Unless you have to pack or something, I understand if?—”
Relief swells through me, leaving me almost lightheaded. “Now is great. Perfect. I just need to grab my shoes.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll leave the front door unlocked.” With a weak half smile, she jogs down the porch steps.
In a daze, I grab my shoes and keys and follow.
Pushing open her door, I follow the sound of murmured voices into the living room.
I stop in the doorway. “Hey, superhero.”
“Jake!” Ari leaps from the couch and runs to me. I lift her up and her little arms immediately wrap around my neck and squeeze.
A tidal wave of raw tenderness washes over me from head to toe. I missed her these past few days, Ari and Ryan.
She pulls away slightly. “My grandma’s dead.”
“I know.”
She hugs me again, holding my neck tight.
How can I just go and never see them again? I’m not ready to say goodbye. I set her down on her feet.
“Are we going to watch more of our show?” She tugs on my arm, leading me over to the couch and directing me on where to sit so she can crawl between Ryan and me.
“Absolutely.”
I put it on and then try to relax.
Ari leans into my side, tucking her feet up against Ryan’s thigh.
I’m intrinsically aware of Ryan’s presence, only a couple feet away. What is she thinking? What will she say when we get a chance to talk? It can’t be too terrible if she’s allowing me to be here.
On the screen, the characters are in a place called “Kissing Town.” Wolf is wooing Virginia, trying to get her to fall in love with him. It’s incredibly cheesy and silly, but I’ve always enjoyed this part the best. Of course, Wolf has been lying and withholding information from Virginia since they met. He’s been working for the evil queen since episode one.
The parallels to my current situation are not lost on me.
After the episode ends, it’s time for Ari to wash her face and brush her teeth before bed.
I wait in the living room, wiping sweating palms on my jeans and going over and over in my mind what to say to make it better.
By the time Ari’s door snicks shut, I still have nothing.
Ryan’s footsteps sound in the hall, moving into the kitchen. The fridge opens and shuts. When she appears in the doorway to the living room, she’s holding two juice pouches.
“She is exhausted after everything today. I think she might stay in bed this time.” She hands me one of the drinks.
A smile tugs at my mouth. “I see we’re moving up in the world.”
She sits on the other side of the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her. “From boxes to pouches. We’re so posh.”
We lapse into silence. The fridge hums. A car door slams outside in the distance. The quiet stretches and wraps its arms around me, squeezing tighter and tighter until I have to break it.
I take a few pulls on my juice pouch, unsure what to say, where to start. I guess with the truth, no matter how shameful it is. “I went through your trash.”
She blinks. “What?”
I grimace and rub the back of my neck. “For the DNA. When you came over to fix the stove I... it was me that unplugged it. I wanted to meet you.”
The groove between her brows disappears. “The water. You kept offering a water bottle.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought that was weird.”
“I couldn’t think of another way to get something. So, that night after the stove thing, I came over here and...” I tilt my head toward the wall.
“You went dumpster diving?”
“Yes. I’m not proud of it. It was invasive and I was stupid and I should have just told you everything right away instead of being a coward.”
I can’t look at her. I stare down at my hands. I can’t handle the derision that could be in her eyes. How can she ever forgive me, or trust me again?
Then Ryan speaks, her voice low and steady. “I understand why you didn’t tell me right away. I just wish you would have told me sooner.”
“I know. You’re absolutely right. I screwed up. I wish I could go back and change it, but I can’t. But I promise, full disclosure going forward... if there is a forward.”
Please let there be a forward.
She doesn’t say anything. She frowns at her juice pouch for so long, I wonder if someone pushed the pause button on my life.
“Bernie said you were asking about me.”
“Um, what?”
She waves a hand. “Before. When you first came to town. She said you were asking people at the hospital about me, and Mia, and Mom. I thought,” she shakes her head, “I thought it was because you were into me, not because you were... investigating why I had written letters to your dad. I feel like an idiot now.”
Regret twists through me, sharp as any blade. “I’m so sorry. I’m the idiot, not you. You weren’t wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I did like you. I still like you. I don’t want this to be the end. The thought of never seeing or talking to you or Ari again is tearing me up inside.”
She sets her juice pouch to the side, her knee bouncing up and down for a few seconds before she speaks again. “Did you want to see the other letters?”
That question knocks me back on the couch. “The other letters? The... the ones Dad sent you? You have them?”
She stands up and leaves the room.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands.
She’s not kicking me out. That’s something positive to hold on to. Maybe I can convince her to at least stay in touch.
Dad’s letters. I can’t even imagine?—
She returns, handing me a dusty shoebox. There’s no lid.
I set it in my lap, staring down at the folded letter at the top, the familiar blocky handwriting.
The same handwriting that signed my school papers, left notes on the fridge when a chore needed to get done, and scrawled our names on the labels of our presents on Christmas morning. The loss strikes me upside the head all over again. Grief is like that. You think you’re all fine and safe and then something inside you becomes aware of the absence of their presence, like a physical pang, a phantom limb pain.
“Mostly he would write about Aria. There are lot of funny stories about her in there. He didn’t mention you, or the rest of your siblings. I don’t know why. Maybe since Aria was the one who connected us.” She shrugs one shoulder.
I rip my eyes from the letters and look over at her. “Thank you.” My voice is gruff and scratchy.
Her eyes soften. “You don’t have to read them here and now. Take it with you.”
“I can’t?—”
She waves me off. “You can send them back to me whenever you’re ready.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
My fingers tighten around the box. “Thank you.”
I don’t think I’m entirely forgiven. She hasn’t said as much. But this box in my hands is way better than a slap in the face or a jab in the eye. Not that I expected Ryan to suddenly turn into one of the Three Stooges, but still. The kind gesture is surprising.
If only she’ll let me reciprocate.
“Have you thought about it? Coming to Whitby for a visit?” Or forever? I won’t mention that yet. Starting small seems like the wisest course of action. Baby steps.
She shifts on the couch, crossing her legs. “I don’t know.”
Hope lifts in my heart. “That wasn’t a no.”
“I have work.”
“Could someone else cover you for a few days?”
“Maybe.”
“When was the last time you took time off?”
She blows out a breath. “Hardly ever. I only took a few mornings off even this week to get mom’s affairs in order.”
“You need time to rest. Relax. Everything would be taken care of. We have plenty of cabins, all meals would be covered, plus there is so much to do. Ari would love it. We can go fishing, hiking, axe throwing. Literally anything any kid could want to do, it’s there.” I bite my lip to stop the words from going on and on and talking her out of it.
“You have no idea how tempting that is. Ari with an axe might be a bad idea, however, but I don’t know. I’d have to see if someone could cover me at work.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“I guess not. But I can’t really afford to fly across the country, even if meals and lodging are free.”
I scratch my chin. “Well, if you can go in a couple days, you can just ride with me.”
She’s shaking her head before I even finish my sentence. “Driving would be way too long?—”
“I’m not driving. Remember Oliver the billionaire?”
“Piper’s boyfriend.”
“Right. So, at his insistence, his private jet is picking me up at the Portland airport in a couple days. It can definitely fit two more.”
Her brows fly up. “Private jet? What about your truck?”
I wave a hand. “He has someone meeting me at the airport to bring it back to Whitby.”
She stares at me. “Are you serious?”
“I know it’s weird. You get used to the whole snap-his-fingers-and-things-just-miraculously-happen thing. Actually, no, you don’t really get used to it. Either way, it’s all taken care of.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again.
“Ari would freak out over the plane. Can you imagine her reaction to it? To everything?”
She chuckles. “Low blow, using Ari, but Jake, I can’t possibly accept such a gift. I would have to pay for something.”
“Fine. You can reimburse us for the food.”
She sighs. “I don’t know.”
The hope deflates like a pricked balloon. Maybe it’s a bad idea anyway. I’m already in too deep. I like her too much. We live on opposite coasts. She can’t trust me and that is not a good foundation for... anything. I don’t even know that she likes me that way, anymore.
It’s probably a recipe for disaster.
She rubs her lips together. “I have to think about it.”
Thinking about it isn’t a no. I’ll take what I can get. “I understand.”
I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’ll grovel and apologize and crawl over broken glass, anything I can do to make it up to her. I’m not giving up.