11. Jack #2
I watch her longer than I should, following her gaze to the horizon. Blue that stretches on forever.
Only reminds me more of her eyes and how much fucking trouble I’m in.
I’ve been skating since I was three. I don’t remember learning, just something I did to keep up with Ethan. But the more I practiced, the more I learned how best to use those skates to fly over the ice. It’s the same with Izzy.
I just need to find her edges.
Riley jumps out the minute I have the car in park, her head tucked down, her shoulders rounded. Izzy unbuckles her seatbelt, then peeks into the review as a woman in a gray Toyota pulls up behind us.
“Riley’s a good kid,” I say.
“She is.” Her smile wobbles. “Thank you. For today. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“I know.”
She looks at me for a beat too long before glancing away. I’m about to say something when the woman climbs out, already talking before she’s fully out of the car.
“Sorry, did I miss the fucking memo? When did you take over as mother to Riley, hmm?”
“Mom! It’s fine,” Riley groans, tightening her hands into fists.
“Get in the car, Ri. We’ll talk later.”
Riley’s halfway into the passenger seat before Izzy’s mom spins. “Not a chance. You’re such a big shot, you can drive us back. Driver’s side.”
Izzy stills beside me. It’s subtle, the kind of thing you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.
But I’m paying attention.
She quickly vaults out of the car. “We don’t need to do this here.”
“Why? You’re too busy to answer a text, then I’ll come to you.”
“Mom,” she pleads, glancing down at the busy sidewalk. “I don’t mind helping Riley.”
“Good, then you can help me. Peyton took an extra shift tonight.” She rips open the back door of the car, wrestling with the car seat buckle and narrating the whole thing to no one in particular. “He’s been an absolute nightmare today, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I haven’t slept—”
“I can’t watch Luca. I’m working this afternoon.”
I’ve held my tongue enough. I jump out of the G-Wagon and walk around as Izzy’s mom hands off a toddler to her like a package.
Izzy takes him without hesitating. That’s the part that gets me—she doesn’t even pause. The little boy grabs a fistful of her hair, and she just winces and starts working his fingers loose.
“Mom, we talked about more notice—”
“I don’t know why you make it into such a big thing. You had time for Riley this morning.” Her mother finally seems to register that I exist, and her whole demeanor shifts. There’s something too bright about her smile, too loose around the edges. “And who’s this?”
“Jack Murphy,” I say, stepping forward. “Nice to meet you.”
Izzy’s shoulders drop. “Jack, this is my mom, Jessica. Mom, Jack.”
Jessica has black hair framing her face. That’s where the resemblance ends. Like Izzy, she has light eyes, but Jessica’s are a greenish-silver. Colder. Harder. Cigarette smoke clings to her black T-shirt.
“Jack Murphy.” She repeats it slowly. “The hockey player? Izzy.” She turns to her daughter with a look I can’t quite place. “You didn’t tell me.”
“There wasn’t anything to tell,” Izzy says tightly.
Luca chooses that moment to lunge sideways out of her arms with zero self-preservation. I dive and catch him, one hand under his arms, and he looks up at me with enormous brown eyes, startled into stillness.
“Hey, bud.” He grabs my Ray-Bans and rips them off my face, examines them for half a second, then chomps down on one arm. “Can I have those back, please?” I ask, keeping my voice low and playful like I do with Lily.
“You,” he holds them out, an offering.
Izzy exhales beside me. She’s watching us with an expression she’s not fast at hiding. It’s soft and startled, there and gone.
“Oh, he likes you,” Jessica says delightedly, like this is all going exactly to plan. “YOu should come for Thanksgiving. I mean it. We do a big thing.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, because Izzy looks like she’s about to combust.
Jessica beams. She squeezes Luca’s calf once and is back in the passenger seat before either of us can say anything else.
“Go.” Luca pats my cheek. Izzy stares at the space where the car was.
“You don’t have to come to Thanksgiving,” she says finally. “That’s ridiculous.”
Luca squirms, pushing against my chest. I set him down, gently holding onto his wrist, and follow as he wobbles to the front door of the shop. “You okay?”
Izzy pinches the bridge of her nose, her cheeks red. “She does that. Shows up and just—” She stops. Shakes her head. “Is this too complicated for you yet?”
“Izzy.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “Still here, aren’t I?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Luca wiggles free, plants both of his palms flat on the bubblegum-pink door, and shoves. It doesn’t budge, and he tries again.
“In, in, in.”
I crouch down beside him. “Let’s try together. Ready?” I spin the knob as he pushes, and the door swings open. Luca thinks he’s the master of the universe.
“I can stay for a bit,” I say. “If you need an extra set of hands.”
Luca giggles, stomping on the refracted rainbows dancing across the floor from the sun hitting the disco balls hanging in the window.
She stares at me for a long moment, crossing her arms. “Okay, let’s just recap.
You pulled over and helped when my car broke down.
You let my teenage sister drive your G-Wagon.
And now you’re offering to babysit?” She tilts her head.
“Who are you, and what have you done with the Boston Breakers’ bad boy? ”
“He’s taking the night off.”
She laughs, half surprising herself.
“I have to leave by four-thirty,” I add. “I have dinner plans at five.”
The laugh dies. Her chin lifts, just slightly. “Oh.”
I let her sit with that for exactly two seconds. “Lily gets devastated if I’m late.”
“… Lily?”
“Bosko’s daughter. She’s three. You’re not jealous of a three-year-old, are you, Sinclair?”
“I wasn’t…” She rolls her eyes at me. “Fine, you can stay, but you’re on book duty.”
She nods as Luca dives for a shelf and pulls a handful of books to the floor.