25. Treading Water
TREADING WATER
“The house has an offer,” Carson said triumphantly as Isabel poured three cups of strong peppermint tea.
“Just one?” Jake looked up hopefully, waiting for Carson to amend his statement.
“Uh, yes, one currently.”
“Great.” Jake picked up his cup and took a sip, knowing full well it would burn his mouth. He didn’t care.
The last month had been a flurry of house showings and trips to Sandway and long walks along the beach when he couldn’t sleep a wink. Isabel had been there for the first of those rote activities, and sometimes the second, but never the third.
Jake was always alone at the beach now. He got there too late for anyone else to be up, and he stayed just until the sun began to peek over the horizon, when sleep pricked at his eyes like the tiny grains of sand that got stuck in his sneakers.
That was his cue to go home, shower off the grime of nature, and climb back into bed before his aunt woke. He usually got a couple more hours of sleep after that, having driven himself to sheer physical exhaustion, but it was never enough.
When he got up every morning, he checked his phone as usual. And, as usual, he had a text or two from Alex, sometimes something from his mom or dad, and never a single message from Robbie. Not one.
He missed seeing Robbie’s name pop up in his notifications.
They hadn’t spoken since that fateful night at the old Eaton Manor.
Jake had seen him around, of course. It was impossible not to in a town this size.
But every time he did, Jake ducked behind a shelf or knelt down to tie his shoe, concentrating on anything but Robbie.
If Robbie ever noticed him in those moments, he never acknowledged it.
They were living in parallel worlds now.
They said hello to the same townsfolk, they had their mail delivered by the same mail carrier, and they shopped at the same stores, but they never crossed paths. They couldn’t break the illusion.
The one time Jake had mustered up the courage to look Robbie up was on MatchdUp. He had to re-download it and reset his password after entering it incorrectly too many times, and when he finally did get in, he immediately searched for Robbie’s name.
Nothing came up. The profile with the grinning man and the bio that ticked every single box for trying too hard was missing. That version of Robbie was never coming back again, and neither was the one Jake had known for a few all too short months.
“An offer, hm?” Isabel smiled politely. “That’s nice.”
“It’s a good one, too.”
“How good?” Jake asked before he could stop himself.
It wasn’t about the money. It was never really about that.
But something had set alarm bells off in his head, and now he waited with bated breath, the scent of the mint that wafted up from his cup sending a confusing wave of nausea coursing through him.
“Well…” Carson shifted, sensing the danger in Jake’s puerile scowl. “It’s 30k under asking price, but that’s really quite reasonable considering the house market in this area.”
“I see.” Isabel took a sip of her tea, and Carson quickly mimicked her as though that would soften her toward him.
“Who put in the offer?” Jake asked. He could feel his blood running cold. He was so certain of the answer already, but he had to hear it from Carson first. He had to confirm it before he allowed himself to fly into a burning rage.
“Uh…”
“It’s a simple question, Mr. Crowley,” Isabel said calmly. “Please answer my nephew.”
“Mr. And Mrs. Robert Eaton.”
The wrath Jake had prepared to unleash shrank back like a wave curling away from the shore. All he felt now was a sense of championship over Carson, like he had won in this prizeless game. He was right. He had pegged it. He knew the Eaton family better than he’d ever given himself credit for.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, nodding slowly.
“I’m not selling to them.” It was Isabel’s turn to be angry, and she didn’t hold back. “I refuse to let those vultures gut my house and turn it into a charmless B I wouldn’t sell to them even if they offered me a million dollars.”
“What are you gonna do?”
Isabel sighed. “Wait for another offer. I don’t mind staying here, and it’s worth it to wait for the right person to come along.”
“But what if it takes years?”
“Then it takes years. You can leave whenever you want, dear. You’ve more than done your part here.”
Jake shook his head. “It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Why don’t you at least stay through Christmas and the New Year's Eve dance like you were planning before, and then you can go if you feel it’s time? I can manage the house myself if it’s not gone by then.”
“I guess so.” Jake closed his eyes. He was so very tired, and Carson had done nothing but compound his weariness with his supposed good news.
“Say, did Robbie mention anything about this to you?”
“Uh, no.” Jake got up quickly, turning away from Isabel. He hadn’t told her what happened between him and Robbie, but she was clever enough to extrapolate it from Jake’s ensuing change in behavior, and cleverer yet not to prod.
“No, of course he wouldn’t. He doesn’t keep tabs on his parents’ business moves.”
“I could text him if you want,” Jake offered. “Or call.” He shuddered at the mere thought.
“Could you, dear? I’m just curious if he has any insight into what their plan might be.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jake retreated to his room and opened the abandoned text thread between him and Robbie.
The last message that had been sent was by Robbie, giving Jake the time for when his parents would be at the Eaton Manor.
Jake had left that text on read, with his appearance at the house enough of a confirmation that he had gotten it.
Now it lay there haunting the screen like a message from the grave.
Slowly, Jake scrolled up through past messages. Most were just brief scrawls of times and dates, peppered occasionally by photos or an emoji. Meaning so little when they were sent, now they served as reminders of a life that they almost had together for a short time.
Flirtatious lines, innocent little questions of what are you doing right now?
morphed into strings of profanities and suggestive photos sent in the heat of the moment.
And then those moments ended, with another conversation picking up the morning after or hours later, once again innocent and unrevealing.
It wasn’t like Jake to get sentimental over a text thread.
He hated receiving messages from guys. He dreaded hearing that buzz on his nightstand the morning after a hookup.
The last time he had looked forward to texts from another guy was when he was still with Ethan, and that had ended in a flurry of vile messages from Ethan’s end when Jake broke up.
The simple truth was that they had just been two very different people who ended up clashing when it all came tumbling down. That was how it always went. Jake was naturally attracted to his opposite, usually because it made it easier to step away immediately after he got what he wanted.
But then there was that rare moment when everything clicked when it shouldn’t have.
He swept his thumb up, going all the way back down to the last message. With trembling fingers, he typed one last time and date.
Meet me on the beach at 6 tonight. Don’t be late.
Jake checked his phone for the time. It was 5:55 and almost completely dark out, with only a faint purple cast remaining from what must have been a breathtaking sunset.
“You bastard,” he muttered, “you’d better—”
A tall figure approached him with smooth, long strides and hands in his pockets, and Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Then his lungs clenched again, and he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs as he realized what he was about to have to do.
“What’s this about?” Robbie asked.
“Thanks for coming.” Jake almost held his hand out to shake Robbie’s before realizing how utterly ridiculous that would have been.
“You knew I would. So, what is this? Am I here for you to chastise me? Are you leaving tomorrow? Come on, Jake, don’t keep me in the dark.”
The moon came out from behind a collection of clouds, casting an eerie, cool glow over the beach. Robbie looked pale, and his mouth formed a thin, tight line. Jake wondered if he hadn’t been sleeping well either.
“Your parents made an offer on my aunt’s house.”