I hadn’t even seen Jenna approach. She scared the shit out of me. I’d hoped I’d have a moment to breathe before I saw her, but there she was, in worn denim shorts, a flannel shirt, and dirty smudges across her cheeks. She looked exactly like I remembered. But old. Jenna had never been old. Now her hair had greyed and the wrinkles around her eyes seemed deeper somehow.
“Derek Cartwright, get your butt out of that truck and get inside. I’m not going to tell you twice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I climbed from the car feeling better than I had in weeks.
We talked for hours, and by the time we finished up, I was so emotionally exhausted I was ready to collapse. By the time I walked out of the house, I’d learnt all about Jenna’s life since everything had fallen apart, and I’d shared my secrets. Not once did she judge me or call me a disappointment. If anything, she seemed to understand. Perhaps better than I ever had. She’d called me out on my bullshit and didn’t let me get away with anything. Her domineering made my heart swell. I’d always known Jenna was strong, but this woman in front of me, she was fucking inspirational.
The moment I’d tried to weasel out of attending tonight’s dinner, she’d informed me, not so nicely, that I’d not only be attending, but I’d also be picking her up and acting as her escort. She left no room for argument. As much as I loved Jenna, she wasn’t the woman I wanted beside me. A certain feisty blonde in a worn grey shirt was still on my mind.
Derek: Thinking about you.
I know it was needy and pathetic, I just couldn’t summon the energy to care.
When the invite had arrived almost two months ago, I’d opened it and instantly regretted it. A moment later it went flying across the room and I hadn’t even realized that I’d thrown it. It took me a week to pick it up and reread it. It had laid on my bedroom floor like an IED that would explode at any second and destroy the world. Or at least my world. I wasn’t shocked I’d been invited, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was Spencer. Once again, the mere mention of his name upended my life into something I didn’t recognize. And yet again, I couldn’t be pissed at him. He was dead. It wasn’t his fault. It just fucking hurt. It hurt like a bitch. The MVP award had been renamed in his honour.
That wasn’t the worst part, though.
What I did next, what I couldn’t stop myself from doing, was inexcusable. I’d hidden Zoe’s invite. I know it was wrong and I shouldn’t have, but I was afraid. I couldn’t be sure how she’d react. I was a chicken shit, there was no secret there, but the moment the image of her cutting herself flashed in my memory, I couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. Instead I hid it away, hoping she’d never know. ’Cause God help me if she ever did, she’d kick my ass so hard I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month.
