44. Miles
MILES
I ’m at work on Wednesday when Danny calls. I assumed he wouldn’t be updating me on the job now that Jenna and I are over. I figured he’d update Nate, or Jenna herself. I answer anyway.
“Yo,” I say, tapping the speakerphone button.
“Hey,” Danny says. “Good news—Jenna’s roof and foundation are fully repaired. You can list the house.”
I glance at Nate who is listening to the call with interest. He raises his eyebrows at me. “That’s great, Danny,” I say slowly. “Shouldn’t you have called Nate though?”
Danny laughs dubiously. “You mean you two still haven’t made up? I told Jenna that I’d let you know, and she didn’t tell me not to, so...” He makes a noise that sounds like hmm .
She agreed? As much as it shouldn’t, hope blooms in my chest. Maybe Jenna wants to see me.
“Okay, thanks, man. I’ll get in touch with her,” I tell him, and we hang up.
“You’re going to handle this now?” Nate raises his eyebrows judgmentally. “After she specifically asked for me ?”
I nod, picking up the landline on my desk. “Yeah. I am.”
“Okay,” Nate says skeptically with a smirk.
I scroll through my phone until I find Jenna’s number and then punch it into the desk phone, hitting the speakerphone button.
“Good call,” Nate observes, laughing. “She’s not picking up if she sees your name.”
I ignore him while it rings. “Jenna, hey, it’s Miles,” I say, eyeing him sideways.
“Hi,” Jenna says cautiously. “I was expecting Nate.” I ignore the I told you so expression my brother is giving me from across the room.
I clear my throat. “Nate’s a little busy this week,” I pause, looking his way. “So, I thought I’d call you. I know you’re anxious to get moving on the house stuff, and Danny says it’s ready to be listed.”
“Oh, um…okay.” Jenna’s voice is quiet.
“I could meet you over there, we can look at what he’s done and then go from there?” I suggest, not bothering to hide the hopefulness in my voice.
“Oh, Miles.” Jenna hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
I suck in a breath. “Okay, well, if you want to wait until he’s back in the office right before Thanksgiving, that’s fine too.”
“No, you’re right. Let’s do it.” Jenna’s voice sounds far away.
“Great,” I say, biting back a smile. “I can meet you in an hour?”
“Sounds good. Bye, Miles,” Jenna says. She hangs up before I can respond.
“You sure more lying is a good idea?” Nate raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“What else am I supposed to do? She won’t agree to see me otherwise.” I push back in my seat and stand, putting on my jacket.
“If you say so,” Nate mutters. “But if she asks, I knew nothing about this.”
Nate, always the good guy. I roll my eyes at him. “Got it, Captain Honest. I’ll see you later,” I say, walking toward the door.
“Good luck,” Nate calls after me.
Once I’m in the car, I dial my dad. I haven’t followed up with him since stopping over the other night. Luckily, he picks up right away.
“Miles,” he says, happily. “I know why you’re calling,”
I let out a nervous breath. “Yeah? Do you have any updates for me?”
“The meeting is tonight,” my dad says slowly. “I can’t make any promises but send me the copy of what you’d like it to say. I’m going to try to get it passed through as soon as possible.”
“That’s great, Dad. Thank you,” I say, catching the relief in my own voice. “I don’t know if it’ll make a difference, but all I can do is try, right?”
“That’s right, son,” my dad agrees. “I’m so sorry about all of this—I want you to know that.” There’s a catch in his throat that he doesn’t bother to hide.
I sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I know, Dad. But can I ask you something?” My voice wavers as I flick on my blinker and turn the corner.
“Anything,” my dad says. I hear him take a breath, slow and heavy, and let it out as if he’s bracing himself.
“How come you never told me he died?” My voice hitches on the word and it hangs in the silence that follows.
Dad sighs audibly and I can picture him scratching the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s thinking.
“At the time, we were just so grateful you were okay. Your mother was a mess for weeks,” he says, his voice soft and far away, like he’s watching it unfold in his memory.
“You know, she and Leona Walker were such great friends. It was a complete coincidence that her brother is who saved you.” He pauses and I hear his chair creak.
“We tried reaching out to the family through Leona. I had the address, we sent flowers. We asked Leona to help us talk to Mrs. Rossi.” Another pause.
“But she never wanted to be contacted. Your mom pushed anyway, eventually, Leona snapped. Not long after, they stopped speaking altogether.”
I pull up in front of Jenna’s house and kill the ignition, but I don’t get out. Instead, I fumble with the keys. “So, then how did you come to manage the property?” I frown, a knot forming in my chest. “This isn’t adding up.”
Dad clears his throat. “After your mom and Leona argued, things got quiet for a while. About six months later, Leona called me at the office. She said Anna Rossi didn’t want to sell the house.
She paid it off and wanted to have the yard maintained until her daughter was old enough to decide what to do with it.
” He lets out a slow sigh, the kind that carries years of weight.
“I never met Anna Rossi. Or Jenna. Leona set it all up. I respected Anna’s wishes.
No face-to-face interactions, no contact.
And we’ve never taken a dime for managing the house.
” He pauses and when he speaks again, his voice cracks slightly.
“We owed her your life… at the cost of her husband’s. That was more than enough.”
My throat tightens. “Wow,” I rasp, my voice catching.
“I know you told your mother you figured out who Jenna is before that dinner,” he says slowly, carefully. “But I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think it was possible—but then she said Leona’s name. That’s when I knew for sure.”
A heavy pause settles on the end of the line—thick and final.
Then my dad lets out a chuckle. “Did I ever tell you how I got your mom back after she dumped me?”
I laugh, grateful for the subject change. “No. I had no idea she cut you loose. What did you do?”
A laugh escapes him, fading into a sigh as he remembers.
“Our first date was at this godforsaken haunted house that she absolutely loved. I hated every second of it, but she loved it—as you can imagine, considering how much she loves that ridiculous skeleton.” He laughs again to himself for a moment before continuing.
“I don’t even remember what we fought over to tell you the truth.
But she told me that she thought it would be better if we saw other people, and I was crushed. ”
“I can imagine,” I say quietly, looking out my windshield at Jenna’s little house.
“Well, I got over my pride, and I set her up a haunted house of her own. It was July . I got all my buddies and her best friend to help, and we turned her friend’s house into a haunted house.” My dad is cackling at the memory.
I laugh, raising my brows at my reflection. “That’s a gesture all right,” I mutter.
“Well, if we can pull this off, you’ll get her back, Miles. Have faith.” My dad is always the optimist. It’s one of the things I love most about him.
“I’m trying, but it’s hard,” I admit, hearing the melancholy in my voice. “I’m about to see her now to go over the listing.” I exhale, defeated. “It feels like she’s already miles away from me.”
“My advice? Don’t let on that you’re lovesick,” Dad says pointedly. “Let her wonder if you’re doing okay.”
I catch sight of Jenna’s car in my rearview, pulling up behind me. “She’s here,” I tell my dad. A knot builds in my gut—nerves.
“Go get her,” my dad cheers me on. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best tonight.”
I take a deep breath. “Thanks, Dad.” I disconnect the call and open my door.
Jenna is already out of her car and standing on the sidewalk when I close my door. I walk up to her but keep my distance. “Hi,” I say carefully.
“Hi.” She tucks her hair behind her ear but doesn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry, I know you wanted Nate.” I hold my hands up apologetically.
She nods, pursing her lips. “It’s fine,” she murmurs.
“Shall we?” I gesture toward the house and start walking.
My dad’s right. I have groveled already.
I have begged her to talk to me. She hasn’t wanted to, and there is no point in forcing it.
If this last attempt doesn’t work, I’ll have to move on.
For now, I’ll keep this as professional as possible.
“Sure.” Jenna’s voice is quiet behind me.
“Do you have your key?” I turn, meeting her gaze for the first time.
“I put mine back in the cabinet…” I trail off.
That much is true. I figured I wouldn’t need it when she was staying with me—we often came here together.
Remembering the day I put it away makes my chest ache.
It was the day I accepted that I lost her.
“Oh, yeah.” Jenna rummages through the bag she has draped across her chest. I stand about four feet away, waiting. After a moment, she jingles the keys. “Got it.” She makes for the front steps, and I follow behind.
I want to make conversation, ask if she’s excited about the improvements.
I want to be the way we used to be, but at the risk of coming on too strong, I can’t.
The house is cold inside but clean and stripped of many of the family heirlooms that were here just two weeks ago.
Traces of Jenna and her belongings are gone.
It looks like any other empty shore house I might sell, but it’s not.