She didn’t say anything, just shook her head with her lip curled up in disgust. What threw me for a loop was the fact she was on my side of this. The relief of hearing someone agree that my mom was awful and there wasn’t something wrong with me was intoxicating. When I told my high school girlfriend, she said I was overreacting. People divorced all the time.
Forgive your mom for wanting her own life. Don’t be an asshole.
I shook my head to get rid of thoughts ofherand focused on Ryann. I needed to know if she truly understood. That was the only reason I continued. “Apparently all the women in my life leave over hockey. My high school girlfriend dumped me the day after we graduated because she was sick of my hockey obsession. This was after we both made plans to come here together.”
Her chest moved as she studied me, and understanding relaxing her face as she smiled. “I know the perfect thing to help. Want some popcorn?”
My mouth dropped open. I was confused at her sudden change of topic.
“Wait.What?”
“These Pop-Tarts aren’t doing it for me, and I want something salty. Come on, let’s have a Wednesday night snack.”
“I read on Wednesdays,” I said, trying to find balance in the conversation. She took hold of the reins, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. “It’s my routine.”
“Okay, are you allowed to snack? Do you pencil that in there? You can read, and I can make fun of you. It’ll be our thing.” She smirked as she walked up to me, jutting her chin for me to move. I stepped out of her way, trying not to enjoy how good she smelled. It was the same florally, sweet scent that lingered in our place now.
“You’re teasing me.”
“Yes, J.D.” Her smile widened, showing all her teeth with the smallest gap between the two front ones. It wasn’t noticeable at first. Our proximity granted me an up close view to the light freckles on her nose, the bits of yellow flecks in her eyes, and the mole right under the left eye that made me itch to touch it. The longer I studied her, the more her lips curved down.
“You’re mad,” she said.
Her brief joy evaporated, and I shook my head, hard. “No. I’ve never hadpopcornfor zero reason, and you blurted it out after I shared something personal.”
“One does not need a reason for popcorn, bud. Making food for people is how I take care of them, okay? You shared a personal part about you, so now I’m going to feed you.” She clapped her hands and pointed to the table. “Study. Read. Schedule times to take a breath or shower. I don’t care, but you will enjoy homemade popcorn because I’m so mad at your mom, and I need to busy my hands.”
Despite all the reasons I should insist on saying no, I nodded. My face heated at her answering smile, and it made no sense why my heart started beating a bit faster.
It was just a smile.
5
Ryann
Sympathy played a weird role in my life. I was on the receiving end of it after our parents died, leaving Michael and me alone in the world, and what drove me mad was the looks. The whispers. The touches without permission. I cringed, imagining all the hugs and the hands people put on my shoulder.
Ugh.
But I got why people felt the emotion. Even after saying goodnight and leaving Jonah to finish hisWednesday Reading,I couldn’t stop thinking about his story. His mom choosing to leave him was different than her dying, for sure, but her abandoning him and his dad was still tragic and made my chest hurt for him.
The one thing our neighbors, our parents’ co-workers, our teachers, and friends did that helped was bring meals. We always had food at the house. It was a simple yet wonderful gesture, and an idea formed as I tossed and turned before falling asleep.
I woke up, yawned for a full minute, and eyed the clock. Six a.m. My first class was at eight, so I had plenty of time to cook and shower. Without making much noise, I started coffee, cracked some eggs, and made sure to not leave a trace of mess anywhere.
“What are you doing?” Jonah walked out of his room, the hard lines of his face soft from sleep, and whoa, his morning voice was somehow deeper.
“Making scrambled eggs.” I picked up the spatula and used it to direct him to the chair. “I put too many in here for me to eat. Want some?”
He scratched his head, bringing up the dark blue T-shirt an inch to expose his stomach. My tongue seemed to get stuck on the roof of my mouth. I quickly took a sip of coffee, blaming the early morning on why my mouth got dry. He was an athlete who took care of his body. It was normal to appreciate hard muscles on anyone.
“Sure?” He frowned and sat in the same chair he did the night before, his eyes blazing with questions.
But he wouldn’t ask them. He was too private andfocused.Asking a question would distract him from his plan.
When the eggs cooked, I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping I looked relaxed. “So, reading is for Wednesdays. What’s your Thursday game plan? Crosswords?”
His nostrils flared twice before the realization hit him. “You’re teasing again.”
