NowI’m in trouble.
He re-baits my hook and hands me the line.
Time to nip this attraction in the bud.Most hot guys drop about ten notches after I get to know them.I’ll ask Jaeger a few pointed questions.That should douse the ardor.
“So whatever happened to you?I thought you were a star athlete.Skiing, wasn’t it?”
A beat passes.He stares at the water.“Downhill.”
I wait for him to continue.He seems relaxed, but still, like I’ve hit on something important.
“I don’t ski anymore.”He adjusts his feet into a wider stance on the boat’s metal bottom, elbows braced on his knees.“A bad injury took me out of competitive sports.”
Definitely a sore spot, though he appears calm enough.According to my brother, Jaeger was an amazing athlete.He was on track for the Olympics, from what I recall.That’s a big deal in a small town.It’s also one reason I never thought he noticed me.I was Tyler’s skinny little sister.Jaeger had a serious girlfriend and barely glanced my way when he visited.
“What do you do now?”
He takes a swig of the beer he’s been nursing since we rowed out.“I carve wood.”
An image of the logs with bears carved into them on the side of Highway 89 flashes through my mind.Wow, this poor guy’s life has seriously declined since high school.
“What about you?”He looks over, studying my face.“You just graduated.What’s your next step?I’m assuming the casino gig is short-term.”
God, if it wasn’t, my mom would kill me.She busted her ass at the casinos for twenty-two years to keep us afloat.I have one of those deadbeat dads who calls a couple of times a year and, despite his brilliant brain, can barely hold down a job long enough to cover his expenses, let alone pay child support.Dad’s never had his act together, which meant my mom had to be the adult and raise Tyler and me.She gave up asking Dad for help long before they separated when I was two.
“Yeah, short-term.”
Jaeger continues to stare, and I realize I haven’t exactly answered the question.I clear my throat.“I’ve been accepted into law school.”
He nods, but the gesture is stiff.“Where?”
“Harvard.”
A long pause follows, and I can’t tell if the silence is all me and the worries I have over school, or something else.
Law school is what I’ve worked for, but somehow, it doesn’t feel real, or… right.My visit to the campus last semester solidified those concerns.I’ve never seen so many preppy kids in one spot.Talk about not fitting in.I grew up around the casinos with a single mom.I’m smart and scrappy, not privileged.The adjustment to campus life at Harvard is going to be huge, and the loans crippling.If I work my ass off this summer, I’ll have enough for half of my room and board—for the first year.That doesn’t include tuition, which costs five times as much.That’s where my high-paying legal position will come in handy after I graduate.I’ll essentially be working to pay for my education.
“So, you’ll be leaving soon?”His tone is flat.
I don’t answer right away.I can’t say anything, because even though I pursued this path, I’m not excited about it.No onewantsto invest a fortune in school, but it’s more than that.There are programs that cost less.I’m just not excited about law, period.
There, I’ve allowed the thought nagging at the back of my mind to rise to the surface.This is what I’ve worked for and what I should want, but I don’t.I’ve changed, or my needs have changed.All I do know is nothing feels right anymore.
My mom wanted her kids to be doctors and lawyers—important people.I think that’s why she went after my dad all those years ago.He’d graduated from Berkeley with honors.Mom discovered too late that sometimes a hardworking man is more successful than a brilliant one.
She couldn’t afford full tuition and board for college, but Mom paid half of Tyler’s and my college educations by working two full-time jobs at the casinos.She wanted better for us.We did well in school and her efforts weren’t a waste.Which is why I can’t tell her I don’t want the brilliant future laid out for me.
Jaeger asked if I was leaving soon and I still haven’t answered.“I guess,” is what I finally say, unable to give him anything concrete when the earth feels unsteady beneath me.
Jaeger’s gaze drills into me.“You?—”
“Jaeger,” Mason calls out in a loud whisper.“We’d better go.”
Jaeger swivels his head, and I see a motorboat approaching behind him.It’s a little ways away, but heading straight for us.
Jaeger reels in his line and drops his pole in the bottom of the boat.He grabs both oars.“Hold on.”
I set my pole down and Jaeger’s first thrust of the oars jerks me back.We’re gliding across the surface fast enough to make hair sweep from my face in the breeze.His arms are like machines, cutting through the water, shoulder muscles bunched and rippling beneath the long-sleeved shirt he threw on over his T-shirt earlier.I can’t stop staring.He may have given up the Olympics and professional sports, but he’s fit.Must be all that whittling.
