Page 24 of Just Friends
“Thanks,” he said.“Who are these problem neighbors, anyway?”
“The Bowers,” I said with a groan. “Ohhhh, the Bowers.”
“And what’s the deal with the Bowers?”
“The original Bowers? Nothing, they were good family friends. But old Mr. Bowers died, oh, six years ago when his tractor rolled on top of him.”
Jax shook his head. “Yikes. That’s dreadful.”
“It really was. Then poor Mrs. Bowers died of a broken heart just a few months later.”
“Poor lady.”
“Yeah. What’s even sadder is afterthe Bowers passed, their kids got into a nasty estate battle, and now they don’t even talk to each other. They don’t even care about the farm they grew up on—all they care about is the money it makes. The family home sits empty and they rent out the land to row-crop farmers. They don’t care what happens on their land, which is why I’m really worried this problem with the spray drift is going to keep happening year after year.”
“Bowers, Bowers,” Jax chanted, and his eyes scanned from side to side, trying to jog his memory. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Well,” I hesitated, “probably because I’ve told you about Nate Bowers before.”
“And who’s that again?”
“One of the Bowers boys. We grew up on the commune together.” I fidgeted with my hair. “And um, he’s the guy I’ve told you about. My first boyfriend.”
Jax froze, and the clunking of dirty dishes in the sink suddenly ceased.
“Oh,” he said at last. “Right. That guy.”
Was it just me, or was Jax acting strange? The first couple times I told him about Nate, he acted a little weird, too. I didn’t get it then, and I still don’t get it now. I mean, Iknowhe thinks Nate is a piece of crap—that’s obvious. And I can tell he thinks I should forget Nate forever and move on, but …
“I emailed Nate this morning,” I admitted. “After you left my room.”
He kept his gaze trained on the sink. “About what?”
“The problem with the spray, obviously.”
“And what’d he say?”
“He hasn’t replied yet. We’ll see.”
A quiet came between us. The only sound was thesplish-splashof Jax’s dish washing, which suddenly seemed a tiny bit forceful or agitated.
“Maybe this is all part of Nate’s scheme to win you back?” he joked, forcing a smile.
“I doubt it. If so, it’s a terrible scheme.”
“Yeah, well,” Jax muttered, “the way he broke up with you was a pretty terrible scheme, too.”
When Nate dumped me, we made a pact that if we found ourselves single and lonely later down the road, we’d get back together again. I only agreed to it at the time because I was heart broken and grasping for ways to keep him. But now that years have past and I’ve moved on, trust me, there’s no way I’d ever consider getting back with him.
I snickered. “Hey, I won’t argue with that.”
Why was that weird and tense quiet coming between us again?!
“Anyway,” I said, wanting to change topics, “that’s why Ireally,reallyneed this dating app to be a success. I know it’s crazy, but I want to be able to take care of my parents as they get older.”
“What’s so crazy about that? You love them. They’re lucky to have you.”
I huffed. The problem was, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded—my parents had no money and I had no idea how much I’d need to truly be able to take care of them. On top of that? I had no college degree, no marketable skills, and a debilitating neurological condition that made finding gainful employment anywhere, let alonerural Montanaof all places, a royal pain in the rear.
