Chapter 31
Mrs. Nelson is reclining in her beach chair when I step out of my convertible, a wrapped book tucked under one arm. There’s no sign of Nina’s car, but I think—hope—that just means Ryder isn’t home. I’m not prepared to see him, following the call I made in the middle of the night.
I’ll have to get ready soon, before I board a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard tomorrow. Keira checked—three times—that I was okay with Ryder coming. I assured her I was, and I’m not sure if it was a lie or not.
“It’s not Saturday,” Mrs. Nelson tells me, shading her eyes as she peers up at me. No flower sunglasses today.
“My schedule switched around a little,” I tell her. “After graduating.”
She nods, then says, “You let that boy’s return chase you off.”
I guess I know why Mrs. Nelson never asked why I visited Nina each month. She made her own—correct—assumptions about my motives.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” I reply, glancing at Nina’s trailer.
The railing has been replaced since I was here last. An air conditioner unit whirs in the kitchen window. All the bushes have been pruned.
Mrs. Nelson takes a sip of what appears to be straight whiskey. “There haven’t been any other young ladies climbing in his window, if you were wondering.”
My cheeks burn. “I wasn’t.”
But I’m more than a little embarrassed she saw me sneaking into Ryder’s bedroom during a rainstorm.
And … that’s nice to know. Not that I think Ryder would bring a woman back to the trailer with Cormac and Nina sleeping down the hall. He’d go back to her place or fuck her in a bar restroom.
Not that I’ve given it any thought.
“Elle!”
For the first time, Nina didn’t wait for me to make it to the door. She waves from the doorway, beckoning me toward her trailer.
I’m relieved—so, so relieved—that she looks the same as the last time I saw her. No sign of sickness.
Silently pray that means she has more time than the doctors predicted.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Nelson,” I say.
She hums in answer, taking another sip from her cup as I head for Nina.
Nina hugs me when I reach her, which is another surprise. One that makes me glad I didn’t listen to her request to stay away. Didn’t let Ryder chase me off for good, as Mrs. Nelson so delicately put it.
“It’s so good to see you,” she tells me.
I nod, trying hard not to get too emotional as she breaks our embrace and steps aside so I can enter the kitchen. Being back here feels so normal. So natural. But also different, seeing the Franklin Construction ball cap hung on the arm of the couch and the three plates dripping in the drain rack.
Ryder’s no longer a ghost here. He is here.
“So good to see you too,” I say, heading toward the table where the teapot is waiting, steam curling toward the ceiling. I set the book I brought Nina down beside it.
“Joanna has been extra chatty this week,” Nina tells me, taking her usual seat across from me. “Her daughter and granddaughter were supposed to be visiting from Florida, but they got stuck down there because of a hurricane that passed through.”
“That’s awful,” I say. I hardly know Mrs. Nelson—didn’t even know her first name until now—but it feels like she’s a part of my world after years of visits here.
I hadn’t heard about the hurricane, which is also upsetting. That there are enough tragedies happening daily that we can’t keep up with them all.
“It is. They’re coming in August instead.”
“Does-does Ryder’s father still live in Jacksonville?”
Nina’s hand stalls midair, halfway to the teapot’s handle.
She’s asked who I’m dating over the years, but we’ve never discussed her romantic past. Either of her sons’ fathers. I know little about Ryder’s dad and nothing about Cormac’s, except that Ryder didn’t get along with him.
Ryder has always been a taboo topic between us. One neither of us has brought up, not since I came here a week after sneaking into the prison, bringing her ID and a succulent. I dropped her ID loose in her purse, hoping she’d think she’d simply misplaced it. The plant died years ago, but the pot it came in still sits on the windowsill above the kitchen sink.
“No,” Nina answers, recovering. “Last I knew, he was in Denver. Dax is hard to pin down, to keep track of. He shows up when he wants to, not when you need him.”
I nod. That tracks with everything Ryder told me about his father.
“Not many hurricanes in Colorado.”
Nina’s lips twitch. “No, there aren’t.”
She pours the tea, filling the air with the scent of jasmine, and then pushes one cup closer to me.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Thank you for the new flavors you sent. I’ve sampled all of them. Been drinking a lot of tea recently. The boys have tried some too.” She runs a finger around the rim of the teacup. “The pomegranate hibiscus is Ryder’s favorite.”
Her tone is tentative. She’s not sure if she should mention him.
“Good for summer,” is all I can come up with to say.
I’m still adjusting to this. To discussing Ryder with Nina so casually, like he’s been a part of our conversations all along. Like she’s his mother, not just my friend.
“I wasn’t planning to say anything,” Nina tells me. “About your visits. He saw the tea … put it together pretty fast.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I probably should have told him myself. He, uh … it was just hard to reach him for a while.”
Nina half smiles sadly. “It was.”
I blow at the steam. “He-he wouldn’t let me see him,” I say impulsively. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to.”
“I know.”
I glance up. “He told you he kept me from visiting?”
Nina nods. “Yes. A few days ago.”
I’m relieved. Part of me has always felt she must have judged me for giving up on Ryder, even though she’d told me to.
“He didn’t give me a choice. Didn’t listen to me. Just shut me out. I wanted to see him, to talk to him. Even if we weren’t together anymore … I needed him. I don’t know how to forgive him for that.”
“There was a lot going on,” Nina reminds me gently.
I huff. “That’s not good enough.”
“Fair enough.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. You’re his mom, and?—”
Nina reaches out and covers my hand. “I care about you too, Elle. If you want to talk, I’m always here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “He let you visit him. Cormac. I’m sure Tucker did too. And me … I had to steal your ID and sneak in, just to see him once.”
Nina’s eyebrows rise.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
Her smile is unexpected. “Ryder didn’t share that part of the story.”
“It was dumb.”
“I’d call it brave. We should all be lucky enough to be loved that fiercely.”
I stare down into my tea, saying nothing. I’ve already shared too much.
Everyone else has moved on. I need to stop dragging the past into the present.
“Elle,” Nina says softly, “I don’t have any answers or explanations. But I want you to consider something. It’s our nature to shield the people we love from pain and suffering. If I could have passed away peacefully without telling my boys about this disease that’s going to kill me slowly, I would have. You think Ryder allowing others to visit him means he cared about you less? Have you ever considered that it was because he loved you more?”
Almost exactly what Tucker told me.
“Loved me so much that he refused to see me for seven years? That he let me spend seven years thinking …” I exhale.
“I don’t think he thought you’d spend seven years thinking anything.” The words are quiet. Kind.
Ryder thought I’d forget about him. It’s not an unreasonable assumption to make about seven years. For most people—for normal people—that should have been plenty of time to heal and move on.
Just not me.
And, logical or not, I’m offended he thought so little of me. Of us.
Nina reaches, flipping through a stack of mail and pulling out a white envelope.
She pushes it across the table toward me. “Ryder asked me to give this to you.”
I already realized it was from him. I trace the familiar scrawl of his handwriting, feeling the indentations in the paper where he slashed the two L’s in my name.
I’m dying to read it … and also terrified to.
We’re a tightrope, and I’m never sure which side I’ll fall on.
“Thank you,” I say.
Nina nods, then sips her tea. “How’s Scout doing?”
Neither of us mentions Ryder for the rest of my visit.