Page 153 of Between the Lines

“Shit,” Sam says, lifting his own River Valley baseball hat off his head to comb his fingers through it. “That’s heavy, man. I’m sorry about your parents. I know how that feels. If you ever need to talk about it, I’d be down.”

He shared about the death of his own parents, and something inmy soul flickered. Like maybe Claire was right. Dealing with this on my own for so long has been too harrowing. Maybe it’s about time I started to let others in—because after unearthing all of my baggage onto my subordinates—friends, maybe—I feel lighter.

I nod, and turn to Aaron as he says, “I can’t tell you exactly what to do with your money, but man, if that house is too much, don’t hold onto it.”

It’s a thought I’ve had one too many times. I can picture Claire all cozied up in front of the fireplace, and pinch my eyes closed to keep it there. Maybe it isn’t the place that creates the memories, but the people within them.

“Dude, I thought I had it heavy,” Anthony interjects, tipping back his beer bottle. “At least I can put all of my pain into manual labor.”

“I thought you were done with the garage?” Aaron asks.

“We are,” he nods. “Dad and I finished it up a couple of weeks ago. I’m starting on my dream house next.”

“Don’t you teach at Meadow Ridge?” I question.

Anthony nods. “I do. Always wanted to work in education. But my dad owns a construction company. He’s close to retirement, and my brother—who was going to take over this summer until he fell and shattered his shoulder—is out of commission, so I’ve been stepping in to help when I can. You can take the boy out of the toolbox, but you can’t take the tools out of his hands, I guess.”

A thought begins to formulate in my brain. Several, actually, swimming in slow laps with my untapped future in the center. As conversation switches over, I wonder if I really can have everything I’ve ever wanted without using my freedom as a payment.

sixty

claire

The girlsand I are having a sleepover—something I’ve never done before. After I aired out everything—everything, save for Nathan’s family history—we decided that one girls’ night was simply not enough.

While Sam, Aaron, and Mason are playing two men and a baby tonight with Hope, Juliet, Lucy, Penelope, and I are currently in our pajamas, perusing the aisles of Stop & Shop.

“Do you think four ice cream options are too many?” I ask. We already have two in our cart, but I have two more in my hands.

“Absolutely not. You are popping your ‘eating your feelings’ cherry and you deserve the full experience.”

Penelope plucks the two cartons from my hands and deposits them into the buggy.

“I’m going to run back and grab popcorn. Especially if I’ll be retelling that story about how Boss-Daddy went all Alpha on Joe Petersen for you. You’re gonna need your sustenance for how hot and bothered you’re going to be, girlfriend.”

I groan and shoot her a pair of evil eyes as she skips merrily away.

I’m not sure if I should be thrilled by the prospect of this nightor not. While I’m super excited for my first sleepover, I’m less excited that we’re going to sit and cry about Nathan.

I don’twantto cry about Nathan. Haven’t I done that enough?

I’ve cried for the loss of him, and also for the lies his heart has been telling him. But he made it very clear when I awoke to his side of the bed empty.

If I wanted you gone, you’d know.

And isn’t that the ugly truth?

Beneath it all, I’m angry. Angry at him for making the choice for me, just like my parents did. Angry at him for cutting off the beautiful world we were on the verge of creating.

Angry at him for refusing to see his worth.

Angry at him for not allowing me to love him back together.

It’s that anger that has fueled me into not contacting him—well, that, and Penelope’s insistence that he deserves the silent treatment for a little while.

They say he’s been more of a tight ass around work, and while I’ve apologized that he’s taking it out on them, I’m almost glad that he’s suffering.

Almost.

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