Chapter 14 #2
“No shit.” I laugh dryly, running a hand through my hair.
I know what that’s like too. “I didn’t mean to imply—I just—I get it.
What it’s like for a parent to leave. No rhyme or reason.
My mom dropped me off with my aunt and uncle, and that was that.
” Rubbing the back of my neck, I turn to look at her, and I feel the heat rising on my skin.
“Can’t really imagine someone leaving you, though.
Bet you were cute. Little Ren with a little fossil brush, playing with rocks out in the driveway. ”
She rolls her eyes, pushing at my shoulder, but her cheeks pillow with a smile. “I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Oh,” she says softly. She turns back to the parking lot, but she bumps her shoulder against mine. “I can’t imagine someone leaving you, either. I know we talk a lot about the pretty girls you allegedly love, but I’m sure they love you right back. You were probably lethal as a cute little kid.”
“Lethal’s a word for it. I was a little shit.
Difficult. Not as easy as Matty. Only paid attention in gym class.
Needed extra help with my math homework.
My mom—I think it, uh, used to frustrate her.
It’s hard to remember now, but my aunt and uncle didn’t seem to mind.
” I tap a thumb against my knee. “What about your mom? "
Ren waves a hand, but her eyes pinch closed. “She remarried when I was ten. Had my first brother two years later. And then had the new baby of the family two years after that.”
“Big age gap.”
She nods. “I was twelve when she had Oliver. Fourteen when she had Logan.” Ren turns back to me, propping an elbow on her knee and dropping her chin to her hand.
“They’re both still in school. Oliver’s in his second year.
Business major—he’s great at math. Logan likes working with his hands.
He just started trade school.” She lifts her brows, but I don’t miss the poorly buried hurt that lances through her next words.
“She and my dad married young. So, she got to start from scratch with my stepdad.”
“Too bad,” I mutter, palming my jaw. “Don’t think she needed to start over.”
Ren exhales, sort of rueful. “I’d say tell that to her, but she’s happy. My stepdad treats her well. He was never unkind to me. And I love my brothers, even though we . . . don’t see each other often. Like I said, almost like they were a whole new family.”
She’s already told me enough—more than she needed to. And even though in a million years, I’ll never be as smart as her, the pieces of her start to fit together in my mind, forming a picture that takes shape and starts to make sense, too.
But pieces won’t cut it, I don’t think. For the first time in a long time, I want something.
More of her.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What’s the deal with you and school? Why’d you never get your PhD? Yas told me you’ve got two master’s. Can’t be that you suddenly decided you hated academia.”
She bites down on the inside of her lips, running a finger along the spine of the trophy that still sits between us, before she looks at me through shining eyes and whispers, “Can we tackle that one next time?”
“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
She smiles, thankful, and her shoulder meets mine again. “Your turn.”
“Ask away.” I push my shoulder back against hers, just for a second. It feels nice, to sit here on some random curb with her. To really talk.
She hesitates, her bottom lip extended thoughtfully as she wrings her fingers together before she asks gently, “Do you—do you want to tell me about him?” She gives a small shrug. “It’d be nice. I’m getting to know you, and maybe I can get to know him too.”
“Uh—” I start with a wince, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about him . . . it just . . . hurts. And I don’t really—what do you want to know?”
I turn to her helplessly, looking for guidance, but she grabs my tattooed hand in both of hers and she shrugs again. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.”
Puffing my cheeks out, I nod slowly through a measured exhale. Her fingers trace the outline of his initial, and the ever-constant constriction in my chest loosens its hold.
“He’d like you,” I tell her.
She leans forward conspiratorially. “Did he like pretty girls, too?”
“He did, yeah. He just loved people, actually. Loved getting to know them. Could find something good in just about anybody,” I say through a laugh, and instead of pain cutting across the back of my throat, it burns, and I think I might be a bit wistful, too.
“But he’d have thought the whole dinosaur thing was pretty cool.
He’d think you were smart. And he’d think you were brave.
For starting over after a ten-year relationship.
” Her fingers twitch against the back of my hand, and I give her a grin.
“And he never would have shut the fuck up about me giving you my jersey at the game. New running joke in the family forever, guaranteed.”
“What else?”
A lot else, as it turns out.
I tell her all kinds of things.
That he was missing a front tooth until he was nine.
That when he was missing that tooth he had his first kiss with a girl from our neighbourhood because I dared him to, and he always swore she was the one who got away.
That he broke his left thumb when he was twelve because we were wrestling, and it was sort of crooked after that because we were too scared to tell his parents, so it started to heal before he saw a doctor.
That one time, on a spring break trip in college, he drank so many mango margaritas he puked for an entire day and couldn’t even look at the fruit in the grocery store for three years after that.
That he still holds the record for fastest pitch in league history.
That playing with him was the best thing that ever happened to me, and when I moved home, we bought this cottage together. That he died there, four years later.
Ren’s fingers, brushing patterns along the back of my hand, go still. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
My eyes, blurred around the edges, snap to her. “You don’t—you haven’t—you didn’t even Google it?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s not my business.”
“Oh.” I swallow, relieved. “Let’s, uh—next time?”
“I’ll put it on the agenda.” Ren quirks a brow, her fingers painting a final pattern against the back of my hand before she lets it go, gently. “I should go. It’s late, and I have to be at the museum early tomorrow.”
I nod, reaching for my phone. “I’ll get you a ride.”
She shakes her head, hair tumbling around her shoulders. “I can call my own Uber, I’m a big girl.”
I flash my palms. “Far be it from me to try and be chivalrous.”
“You had your one act of chivalry when you gave me the jersey.” She rolls her eyes, thumb tapping away on her phone.
“What about this?” I gesture to the empty parking lot. “Waiting for you while you get your ride?”
She points to her phone, grabs the raptor trophy, and pushes to stand. “I picked a driver who’s just down the street.”
“Too bad.” I huff a laugh, following her upright and into the world.
It’s a shame. I could probably sit on this curb, eat shitty hot dogs, and talk to Ren Jacobs for the rest of my life.
Headlights flash as a car dips over the speed bump to get into the parking lot.
“That’s me.” Ren tucks her phone in the pocket of her jeans. “Good luck this week. Home series, right?”
“Yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair, nodding, before the words start to spill out. “I’ve got—there’s always—tickets. Any chance you want to come to a game this week?” I tug on the ends, hopeful. “You’ve already got a jersey.”
She blinks. “Oh. Uhm—I could see if—”
“I’ve got more than one. Your friend from the museum? The dropper?”
“Imani,” she supplies through a light laugh.
“Yeah. Her.” I nod, too enthusiastic probably. “She could come.”
Ren angles her head as the driver pulls up beside her.
“I’ll ask her what night might work for her.
” She reaches behind her to open the passenger side door, wrinkling her nose.
“Night, Miller. I’ll keep him this week, and you can have him on weekends?
” She lifts the trophy before she ducks into the car.
“Sounds like, uh, a fair arrangement. Night, Ren.” I rub the back of my neck where it burns with the idea of sharing something with her, even a stupid trophy dinosaur. I wait to shut the door until she’s swung her legs into the seat and started talking to the driver.
I don’t open my phone until I see the car turn at the light.
And I don’t call a ride either.
I go to social media. There are a lot of likes and comments, but I’m really only looking for one thing. I scroll until I find it.
@renjacobsattheroyal: @mcb7—please, we both know you’re the dinosaur enthusiast here. heard a rumour you take in tours @theroyalmuseum on the weekends??? lucky educators, having you join them, and lucky me, having you as my trivia partner ??
There’s a lot of words. But I only really pay attention to four.
Lucky me, having you.