“You were all right,” she says this time, clearly teasing me. She must be teasing. There’s no way last night was just all right. Last night was incredible. The two of us together are incredible. And IknowI satisfied her. She was quite vocal.
She winks at me as she holds up a finger, and I relax a little. She has me all kinds of unsteady. I’m usually the confident one. I’m also usually the one who’s dressed first, who’s ready to leave,who’s in charge of a second date. Renleigh, however, holdsallthe cards in this scenario. I’m holding an empty box and maybe a Jack of diamonds.
“It’s in the cabinet by the glasses. Everything is labeled. He can handle it, Mom. You don’t need to?—”
She’s steps outside while she talks on the phone, her fingers woven into her hair and her palm on her head.
“You need to go?” I whisper.
She glances my way, her brow furrowed, and she holds up a finger again.
“I’ll just . . .” I gesture to the tent, and she nods.
I pull the sleeping bag out first, shaking the dirt and leaves from the flannel side before rolling it tight. I think I’ll toss that in the wash before I give it back to Roddy. Someone is bound to gossip in the locker room, and when he finds out I was in his sleeping bag with Renleigh, he’ll probably knock my teeth out, then burn his sleeping bag on principal. Maybe if I bring it back clean and fresh, I’ll get to keep my teeth.
I start taking apart the tent, piling up the poles with the stakes before moving on to the fabric, when Renleigh groans to my right.
“Everything okay?” I fold the tent canvas around the various other pieces and bundle it together with the sleeping bag.
“No,” Renleigh says, her answer swift and surprisingly honest.
“Can I help?”
She’s already begun marching toward my truck.
“No,” she says again.
She flings her backpack onto the back seat, then climbs in the passenger side. I drop the camping gear in the back, then walk over to Adler to let him know we’re leaving. He snickers and winks, still impressed with my conquest, I suppose. He really knows how to cheapen it.
I climb in next to Renleigh, and glance toward her lap, where she’s texting someone on her phone.
“Is your dad okay?” My stomach tightens as my mind races with negative thoughts. I hope he didn’t have another stroke or fall.
Renleigh doesn’t answer immediately, still firing away texts, line after line. I let her work through whatever is happening, biting my tongue—literally—as I drive us along the dirt road back to the highway. She finally drops her phone between her thighs and promptly bites her thumbnail as she stares out the passenger window.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I finally say.
She huffs, rolling her neck before moving her gaze to me. I glance to my right a few times, balancing my sight between her and the roadway.
“My mom is trying to help my dad. She hasn’t been here for years, but today, right now, she wants to help with his physical therapy. And she told my sister to go home and enjoy herself, because she ‘has it handled.’ And you know what my sister did? She went home.”
Her words fly out in a single breath, and my muscles tighten on instinct, the tension rolling off her and bleeding into my body.
“That . . . sucks? I’m sorry?” I don’t know the full story, but I glean enough from her tone.
“It’s . . . fine,” she sighs out, dropping her shoulders and turning her gaze back out the window.
“It doesn’t sound fine,” I continue.
She shakes her head but doesn’t respond.
We drive in quiet for the next several minutes, Renleigh continuously checking her phone while I mentally riffle through the right words to say. I come up empty, and she doesn’t seem to be hearing from whomever she’s trying to get hold of. Theair is practically boiling with anxiety. It’s palpable, and I’m half-tempted to pull over for a short walk to get my head right.
“This was a stupid idea,” Renleigh mutters.
I think she both didn’t anddidwant me to hear her.
“I’m sorry?” I squint one eye and tilt my head as I glance at her.
