Page 30 of Chasing Stars
Of course it’s me. I groan, running my hands down my face in exasperation. “Jenna.”
“Miles.” She bites back a smile as if she knows this is torture for me.
“I didn’t turn you down because I don’t want you,” I rasp. The emotion in my voice catches me off guard.
Jenna pushes her lips together. “Maybe. But you still turned me down. I’m taking that as a sign from the great big universe you love so much.” She is nowhere near as rattled by this as I am. In fact, I’d go as far as to say she is unbothered.
I peer at her from across the desk, but I don’t say anything right away. “I don’t think the universe is giving signs to the little people.” I sigh.
Jenna huffs out an exasperated breath. “Well, I do.” She pushes back in her chair and stands to leave. “I’ll see you around, Miles. Okay? And thanks for my car.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” I grumble, slumping back in my chair. I let her walk out the door. What else can I do? I can’t force her to like me. The bell over the door jingles, and she’s gone.
“Finally. I thought she’d never leave.” Nate’s voice interrupts my pouting. He pulls out his chair and plops down, turning to face me.
“Did you listen to our entire conversation? I thought you went to get lunch.” I scowl, making it clear that I’m not in the mood for his shit.
“Of course I listened to it. I just said that so you could have some privacy. I believe you are supposed to thank me.” Nate laughs. When I don’t join in, he says, “Damn, you’ve got it bad for this one.”
I scoff. “I do not.”
“Yousodo. You’re sitting in here pouting like your prom date dumped you.” Nate chortles. Nate is doing exactly what younger brothers do, but the frustration in me is starting to build.
“Nate. Shut up. I’m not heartbroken. I just like her. But it doesn’t seem like she’s into it.” It comes out sulky.Maybe I am sulking. I’m not used to girls telling me no, even if I said it first.
“I’m no relationship expert, bro, but I think you’re going about it all wrong.” Nate leans back in his chair.
“Oh? How so?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Well, I can tell just by talking to Jenna that she’s an independent girl. She is used to taking care of herself—she might even be proud of it. So when you come in and pay for her car, it’s not the same thing as buying her a coffee. Do you get what I’m saying?” Nate gives me a look that tells me I should have known this. “I don’t get the impression that she’s looking for someone to save her.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is she looking for? I thought girls liked to be swept off their feet.” I run my hands through my messy hair, groaning. I’m in over my head.
“Some girls do. Erin did, for sure. But I’m betting Jenna is looking for a partner. Not a savior.” Nate gives me a pointed look.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” I mutter. The truth is, normally, I am pretty sure of myself too, especially when it comes to the ladies. Jenna makes me feel like a clueless teenager who has no idea what he’s doing.
“It’s just a matter of listening to her, bro. Reallylistento what she has to say. Even I heard her say that she can take care of herself.” Nate arches an eyebrow at me.
“I have. Or I thought I had.” I groan. “Fine. I’ll try it your way.”
“Hey, you aren’t doing me any favors. I’m just trying to help you.” Nate whirls back toward his computer.
“I know you are. I appreciate it,” I say, determined to get back to work and put Jenna out of my mind for a while.
A few hours pass and I’m mostly successful at quieting my mind. One thing is still nagging at me though. If Jenna is so determined to take care of herself, why didn’t she Venmo me?It’s not much to go on but it’s something.
15
JENNA
Aweek later and I’m settling in nicely. My house is starting to feel like mine—despite how much needs to be done to it—and I’m at least waking up with a purpose. The hardware store makes for good temporary employment until I figure out what I’m going to do next. Joy has trained me in every aspect of the store. I can ring people up, look up prices, and even do a refund. I know how to check inventory and help customers find what they need.
I’m exhausted though. I haven’t worked retail since high school, and it’s been years since I’ve spent this much time on my feet. It has taken everything in me not to verbally bemoan my aches and pains—I don’t want Joy to second-guess hiring me.
I have just enough money to scrape by,but I need to make some or I’ll never be able to pay Danny for the foundation work, list the house, and get the heck out of this town. There are justtoomany memories here, and it’s getting harder and harder to tuck them away in the back of my mind.
I’ve been packing up family photos and heirlooms bit by bit, but I can’t do it for very long. Every box I pack with family treasures is like pouring salt in an open wound. Earlier this weekI was sorting through my mother’s old cookbooks when I came across a photo of my mom and me in the backyard, picking tomatoes. In the photo, I’m holding up a tomato I had taken a big bite of, and the juice is running down my chin. I’m grinning at the camera, and Mom is beaming at me. I froze right there in the kitchen, my grief overwhelming me, and I ended up in a puddle on the floor. That’s the thing about grief, you can think you’re doing okay, but it is always there—sneaking through the smallest crack and wrecking you all over again.
