Page 22 of The Darkest Parts of Me

“Renn?” Maven yells, louder than before.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s all good.”

They both release identical heavy sighs of relief that make me smile.

“Renn, seriously, are you okay?” I hear Maven’s voice, heavy with concern.

“Yeah. I’m coming down now.” I feel their eyes boring into my back, a weight of worry with every move I make until I reach the bottom of the ladder. The second my feet hit the deck, Tova tugs me into a tight hug.

“You scared me to death!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have made him get up on the roof like that!” Maven says, waving her hand wildly.

“It’s okay. It was my fault.”

Maven stares at her mom with disapproval, her hands on her hips, and then looks me over. “Renn, you’re bleeding!” She motions to my arm. I lift it, finding a deep gash on my forearm, which is also scratched up pretty good. Tova takes my arm softly, inspecting the wound.

“I have a med kit inside.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. I can . . .”

“I wouldn't hear of it!” she says, completely ignoring me. “Let me at least clean it up for you.”

Careful not to hit my arm, Maven urges me inside by touching my back gently.

“Are you actually agreeing with your mom?” I ask playfully, but she doesn’t say anything right away, so I glance over my shoulder at her.

“Not at all. I’m just proving that I was right. You shouldn’t have gotten up there.” She eyes me passively, then raises a single brow as if to say, “Told you so” and follows Tova inside.

When I walk into the cabin this time, the boxes are cleared away, and there are pictures hung on the walls. Most of them depict Maven at various ages. The one closest to me is a photo of her holding up a fish, beaming from ear to ear. She probably isn’t older than eight. The largest one is on the back wall, and it’s a picture of Maven and Tova with a man that I know, immediately, is Marc.

They’re sitting on the porch steps of the cabin, her dad and mom on one step and Maven behind them, resting a hand on their shoulders. Even from a distance, I can tell Maven got most of her genes from her father. He has the same striking blue eyes and dark hair. But the picture that catches my attention is the one next to it, a picture of Maven and Marc standing on the deck next to the same telescope currently sitting outside.

I’m so busy looking at all of the pictures, I don’t notice Maven coming to stand beside me with a wet washcloth.

“Here you go,” she says, handing it over and following my gaze to the picture, but she quickly looks away.

“Found it!” Tova says, walking into the kitchen area and gesturing for me to take a seat at the table. I don’t bother protesting, knowing it would be of no use. I dab at the gash, and when I pull back the cloth, there’s more blood on it than I was expecting. “You got yourself pretty good. Mave, can you grab another clean cloth for him?”

Without a reply, Maven walks into the kitchen, retrieving one in a drawer and soaking it with water. She motions for me to give her the bloody one, but I hesitate.

“It’s okay. I’m not squeamish with blood,” she remarks, holding out her delicate hand. I’m reluctant at first. It feels intimate to think of my blood on her hands, and as I offer it to her, I get the feeling she’s thinking the same thing. She doesn’t look at me as she takes it, careful not to touch me, and goes back to the sink to rinse it.

Tova takes her time cleaning the wound, and after a couple of beats, she casually asks, “So, Renn, do you have family around here?”

Maven goes still, and my guess is that she’s giving her mom an incredulous look, but I keep my eye on Tova to answer.

“No. I don’t have any family close by. I’m an only child, and everyone in my immediate family, unfortunately, has all passed on.”

Tova pauses, studying my face, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Maven is staring at me as well, her bright eyes carrying the same sentiment. She had that same expression of tenderness on her face when I told her about losing my mother.

“Thank you, and it’s okay. I’ve been on my own for a while, so I’m used to it.”

They both remain quiet for a moment, Tova still cleaning my wound gently.

“Well, I’m glad you chose to make Solitude Ridge your home,” Tova says warmly, rubbing anti-infection ointment on the wound before placing a bandage over the top.

---