Page 105 of Repairing the Wreckage

I can’t watch her leave when we haven’t fixed anything between us, yet.

And I can’t make her stay here, either.

I go inside and grab my keys off the kitchen counter. I wait a beat. Scuffling and banging echoes from upstairs. She must be tearing her closet apart looking for shoes.

Grabbing my jacket from the hall closet, I slip out the front door. My car’s parked at the curb. I slide behind the wheel, fire up the engine, and get the hell out of there.

* * *

Hours later, I’m back in Remy’s house, going out of my mind with boredom. Definitely overdid it this morning.

Resting and recovering, hell, just sitting still in general, have never been easy for me. My knee’s cursing me out for all the yard work, and fire burns from my shoulder to my wrist.

By the time I hear Remy’s car in the driveway, I’m jittery as all hell.

I limp to the front door and open it before he has a chance.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out. “You’re supposed to be my roommate, not a butler. What’re you doing?”

Feeling like an idiot, I step back and shrug. “Trying to be nice. Sorry that’s such a confusing concept for you. Thought you might have your hands full.”

He holds out his empty hands. “Is that your way of saying you ate all the eggs?”

I snort. “No. I ran to the store this afternoon and bought groceries.”

“Good roomie.” He pats my head like I’m a damn golden retriever. “Yeah, Molly said you took off before she left.”

I shrug, not really wanting to explain myself to him. “I had stuff to do.”

“You mind?” He sweeps his hand through the air, indicating I should move away from the hall closet.

“Are you always this grumpy when you come home?”

“Probably.” He opens the closet door and stares. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” I step behind him, expecting to find a colony of mice living in his coveralls based on his expression.

“We’re supposed to get a lot of snow this week.” He gestures to the coats neatly hanging in the closet. “Molly didn’t take her coat or her boots.”

“I’ll run them out to her.” The words pop out of my mouth without a second thought.

He turns and rolls his eyes at me. “Really? You’re going to drive allllll the way out there to give her a coat and shoes?”

“Well, yeah. If it’s really going to be that cold…” I shrug. Who am I kidding? Of course I’d drive out there to bring her anything she needs no matter what. Remy has to know that.

“Maybe they cancel classes for snow,” he mutters.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take them out to her.” I squint and jerk my head toward the door. “Are you sure, though? It’s kind of early for snow, isn’t it?”

“Nah. Remember that one Halloween my mom sent us out trick-or-treating in snow boots?”

How could I forget? “Yeah, you kept bitching they ruined your Spiderman costume.”

He chuckles at the memory. “You were such a suck-up. ‘Yes, Mrs. Holt, I’ll wear my boots,’” he says in a high, mocking tone.

The bittersweet memory stings less over time, but I still miss Remy’s mom more than I ever talk about. “I wouldn’t have had any winter boots if it hadn’t been for your mom. So, yeah, if she wanted me to wear them, I was wearing them.” My own mother barely knew if I was alive from day to day, let alone if I had weather-appropriate clothing. Even when Mrs. Holt was sick, she always made sure her kids had what they needed. Thankfully, she included me too. And later, so did Remy’s grandparents.

The teasing smile melts off his face. “She loved you too.”

---