Chapter 9
More light creeps across the horizon, illuminating the patchy yard. I sip some coffee from the cup in my hand, shifting in place so that the railing I’m leaning against hits a different spot of my spine. It looks sturdy, but it also creaks ominously each time I move, like it could collapse at any second.
A bird swoops down from the old oak that’s the stateliest part of the property. It pecks at the overgrown grass for a few minutes, then flies off when a shiny Mercedes drives down the street.
The neighbors must hate this place. It’s an obvious eyesore amid the immaculately maintained houses that surround it. Tuck said the previous owner lived here for sixty years. At one point, it was undoubtedly the nicest house on the block. The surrounding homes lack the big lot and charm of this property.
I stretch my legs out and close my eyes. I didn’t sleep well last night, which has been a consistent pattern since I moved back into the trailer. My twin bed had been too small when I was in high school. I haven’t gotten any smaller since. Bed hasn’t gotten any bigger either. But I’m not even sure if you could fit a double in the space.
A distant slam sounds as a car door shuts nearby. I reach up and tug the brim of my ball cap down lower, trying to block more of the rising sun. Based on how warm it is already, it’s going to be a scorcher.
I must doze off at some point because Tuck’s voice startles me. “How long have you been here?”
“A while,” I answer without opening my eyes.
“You must love your job to show up so early. Awesome boss?”
I snort. “That’s exactly it. Plus, it’s nice to be outside whenever I feel like it.”
“Shit.” Tuck takes a seat next to me.
Reluctantly, I open my eyes.
“One of those things you don’t really think about, huh?”
I nod, then yawn and rub a palm across my eyes. They feel dry and gritty. Worse than they did before my nap.
“Seriously, everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just adjusting.”
“Must be tight in the trailer. Cormac’s back for the summer, right?”
“Yeah, he finished finals a few days ago.”
“If you need a place to crash …”
“I’m good, Tuck. You’ve done plenty. But thank you.”
“I can still ask around. I’m sure you could find your own place. They put up those apartments by?—”
“I can’t.”
I feel his eyes on me.
“You can’t?”
He’s expecting me to take off, same as Cormac. They both know how I feel about this town. About everything that went down here.
I exhale. “My mom’s sick. Lung cancer. I need to stay in the trailer so I can help her out. Cormac’s there, too, but he’ll be in the city most of the summer and then back at school in the fall.”
“Fuck. Ry, I’m so sorry.”
I rub my eyes again, trying to wake my face up. I can hear the pity in Tucker’s voice, and I don’t want to have to see it too. I get why my mom’s avoided having this conversation; it’s awful. Far as I know, she hasn’t told anyone, except me and Cormac.
“How … how bad is it?” Tuck asks.
“She’s terminal. Doctors are estimating a year.”
“Jesus. Man, I’m …”
I swallow. “I know.”
“Anything I can help with, let me know. Repairs around the trailer, time away from here, hot meals. Just let me know.”
I stiffen when he mentions food, sure that he means from Keira’s restaurant. Will he tell her about my mom? Will Keira tell Elle? I’m no longer sure what the hierarchy is. How Tuck divides his loyalties between me and his fiancée. How Keira divides her loyalties between Tuck and Elle.
Not worth worrying about, I decide. They’ll all find out at some point anyway.
“Thank you,” I tell Tuck. “I appreciate … everything you’ve done. I really appreciate it.”
As far as best friends go, I’m well aware I won the goddamn lottery. If I were Tuck, I would have given up on me a long time ago.
“Don’t mention it.” He reaches down and yanks a weed up from the path. “How’s it going with the guys?”
“Great. The whole crew is awesome.”
“Yeah. They’re a good group.” He glances over one shoulder at the house. “I’ve got a plumber and an electrician coming by later. Once they assess, should be a clearer picture on priorities.”
I nod. “Plenty of cleanup to do in the meantime.”
That’s how the last few days have gone—ripping out old kitchen cabinets, removing peeling wallpaper in the dining room, and getting rid of the massive pile of rotting firewood in the backyard.
Tuck grins. “No kidding. I got a floor sander in the back of my truck. Mind giving me a hand with it?”
“Of course not.” I stand and drain the rest of my coffee.
“How’d you get here, by the way?” Tuck asks as we head down the walk.
“Jogged.”
He glances down at my leather work boots, eyebrows raised.
I chuckle. “My mom has the day off work. Got my license renewed, so I drove her car.”
“Where the hell did you park?”
“Around the corner,” I reply. “Didn’t want to clog up the street.”
“I own this place, man. Park wherever the hell you want.”
“Wow,” I comment, grinning. “Dating a One has really changed you. You the king of this town now?”
Tuck flips me off. “Says the guy who pulled Elle Clarke—twice.”
My smile instantly disappears.
He notices. “Talking about her is still off-limits, huh?”
“She visited my mom,” I blurt.
“What a bitch.”
When I don’t react, Tuck sighs.
“We talking about it? Or are you just telling me?”
“I just … I don’t get it. Why would she do that?”
“You wouldn’t let her visit you. Your mom is the closest she could get.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She told you I wouldn’t let her visit?”
“No. You just did. I’ve never talked about you with Elle. But I know you, Ryder. You shut down when things get hard. And things got really hard for a while there. No way you were going to let Elle see you like that.”
He knows me better than I realized. “I just?—”
“Hey. I thought that was you, Tucker.”
I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice. Turn around slowly, watching Archer’s eyes widen when he spots me.
“Ryder. Hey.”
I nod once, acknowledging the greeting. “Hi, Hathaway.”
Tucker clears his throat. He knows most of the history between me and Archer Hathaway, but not the most important parts. I’m sure there were rumors about the role he played in my arrest. But Hathaway has only done one thing I consider unforgivable, and I’ve never talked about it with anyone, except Elle.
“I, uh, heard—I mean, I saw that you were getting out. Getting released, I mean.”
“Saw?” I question.
“Local paper ran an article.” Tuck is the one who answers, watching me carefully from his spot, leaning against the bumper of his truck.
I can’t tell if he’s worried I’m going to take a swing at Hathaway or if he’s trying to intimidate the guy.
“Of course they did.”
Hathaway shifts his weight between his feet. He’s dressed for running in matching black shorts and a tight black top I guess is meant to show off his muscles. He’s about as built as he was in high school—not much.
“You live around here?” Tuck asks.
Archer nods. “Few blocks over.” He glances at the old Warren house. “That’s a big project.”
“Someone’s gotta tackle it,” Tuck replies.
“True. Town council is going to love you. Neighbors have been complaining about this place for years.”
“Yes, they really should have evicted the elderly woman sooner,” I drawl.
Tuck gives me a cut that shit out look.
I was teasing him earlier about changing, but all of a sudden, it feels like there’s a little more truth to it. Like he’s a part of this town, no longer separated by an us and a them.
Archer’s smile is highly uncomfortable. “Well, I should keep moving. Don’t want to be late for work. Good to see you, Tucker. Ryder.”
“See you, Archer,” Tuck responds.
I manage a nod before Archer continues jogging, then glance at Tuck. “You and Hathaway are buddies now?”
Tuck blows out a breath. “I did some work on his folks’ place. Put in a patio, did some reno work on the downstairs. Archer was over there a lot. He got married last summer. Some girl he’d met in college at Michigan. She’s sweet. I know he was a dick in high school, but people change, Ry.”
“Keira know you’re friendly with him?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?”
“No reason,” I reply. “Let’s lift this.”
Moving the sander is an easy job with two people. I carry the base while Tuck guides the handles. We deposit it in the dining room, up first for floor refinishing, then head back outside. A couple of guys from the crew have arrived.
We’re standing in the front yard, shooting the shit, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I got a new one two days ago, miraculously managing to keep my old number. At least, it felt like a miracle at the time. One thing that went right.
Staring at the Colorado number flashing across the screen, I’m less sure.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell the guys before walking toward the backyard. I really don’t want an audience for this call.
I answer, but say nothing. He can talk first.
“Hello, son.”
“Dad.”
I’ve never called him Sperm Donor or Dax to his face, but I’ve been tempted too many times to keep track of.
“How’s it going?”
Jesus. I crack the fingers of my left hand, staring at the dirt patch where the firewood was piled. “Great. Just got back from an Antarctica cruise. Saw a ton of penguins.”
His sigh is heavy. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Ryder.”
“Then why are you calling, Dad?”
“I haven’t talked to you in seven years. I need a reason to call?”
“Yeah, you do. Because not talking to me for seven years was your decision.”
“I wasn’t the one who got himself incarcerated.”
I tip my head back to track a cloud’s progress across the sky. It’s silent, so quiet that I think maybe he gave up and hung up.
“Look, your mom called and told me you’d been released, and I just thought?—”
“She mention she’s dying?”
More silence.
“No. That didn’t come up.”
I snort. “And let me guess … you’re too busy to come see her. Or me.”
“I have some very important?—”
“Save the speech, Dad. I’ve heard it before.”
“Do you need money? I can send some.”
Part of me is tempted to take it. He owes my mom about fifteen years of child support. But it’ll alleviate his guilt—make him feel better about himself—and that’s the last thing I want.
“No. I got a job.”
“That’s great.” His tone is too chipper, awkwardness bleeding beneath. “Doing what?”
“Construction.”
“Hard work,” he comments.
I kick a piece of firewood that got overlooked yesterday. “Yep.”
“I’m happy you’re out, Ryder. And so sorry to hear about your mom.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I’ll give Nina a call soon; check in with her.”
“She’ll love that.” This time, there’s no sarcasm.
She will. If Dax cared about her half as much as my mom loved him, they’d still be together.
Something my dad knows, based on the uncomfortable pause that follows.
“I gotta get to work,” I say, letting him off the hook.
I’ve got plenty of my own regrets. I don’t need to carry his too.
“Okay. Talk soon, son.”
“Bye.” I hang up, reach down, and fling the piece of firewood as far as I can. It hits the wooden fence that marks the edge of the property line with a dull thunk.
“Stick had it coming, I’m assuming?”
I turn to watch Keira Parker pick her way across the overgrown yard toward me. “Hi, Keira.”
“Hey, Ryder.” She pauses about a foot away, holding the coffee cup she’s clutching out. “Brought Tuck some coffee and thought you could use one too.”
“Thank you,” I say, totally taken aback. “I appreciate it.”
“I just …” She shrugs. “Little welcome back gift.”
“Thank you,” I repeat, not sure what else to say. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had.
Keira’s not looking at me with any anger or resentment, which makes me think Elle kept the details about our breakup from more than just my mom.
“Well, I should get going,” Keira says. “I’ve got a shipment coming into the restaurant.”
I nod. “Thanks again.”
She smiles. “It’s just a coffee, Ryder.”
I watch her turn and sidestep a clump of weeds. “Keira?”
She glances back. “Yeah?”
“How are … people?”
There’s a brief pause, during which I have no clue what Keira is thinking. Her poker face is impressive.
“People are good,” she finally answers. “People just graduated law school.”
“Law school, huh?”
“First in her class at Harvard.”
I nod. “Thanks for … thanks.”
“See you around.” Keira continues walking.
I take a long sip of the coffee she brought. It’s good—a hell of a lot better than the sludge I brewed this morning.
Then, I head for the back door to find out what Tuck has deemed top priority for today.