The front door creaks open and I perch on the edge of herbed, unsure of what to do. Afraid I royally screwed up on all accounts.
“What are you doing here?” I hear her ask him in the entryway.
I stand from the bed so I can pace back and forth while I wait for his answer. Whatever he comes up with, it will say a lot.
His heavy boots clunk against the floor, the sound getting louder, which means he hasn’t suddenly decided to retreat into the night and leave us to it. Perfect.
I know she’s strong enough to handle him herself, but I can’t help peeking around the corner to take in the situation and make sure she’s okay.
I can barely make out the slope of Jack’s nose past the wall between us. He’d have to crane his neck to the side to see me from where he stands.
“I came because I thought we could talk,” he says.
She’s fidgeting. I hate seeing her this way, like she’s a cat stuck in a storm, cowering before his thunderous gaze.
“Oh. Okay,” she says.
When his eyes stray toward the hallway I duck for cover.
“Why don’t we sit down.” She guides him to the living room.
“You’re home.” He says it like it’s taken seeing her in her childhood space for him to believe it.
“The place looks the same,” she says, making awkward small talk.
“Yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it? I haven’t been around here much since you left.”
A low laugh bubbles from her chest. Not a happy sound but irritated. “You weren’t around here much even before I left.”
He sighs. I can see more of his face now from the recliner he’s sitting in. His eyebrows pinch together. Just talking to her looks painful for him.
“If there was one good thing I could ever do for you it was protect you. What I said this morning… that you don’t belong here… I meant in a place you aren’t safe.” He drags a hand over his mouth. “Incident command posts are functioning homeless communes, Hayes. The camps are dirty and hot. They’re an epicenter for viruses and illness. Things I don’t love the idea of you being exposed to. I didn’t mean to imply I don’t want you around, that you aren’t great at what you do, or that I’m not incredibly proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
Wow.That was… unexpected. But did she even hear him?
Hailey’s staring out the kitchen window, as if a home video is playing across the glass.
“Did you know I went on that swing out there today for the first time since we built it nine years ago?”
I expect her to look at him for his reaction. But her question was obviously rhetorical.
“You told me you had some jute rope lying around that you weren’t sure what to do with,” she continues. “You even let me drill the holes in the seat.”
A soft smile graces her lips.
“I was so happy that day. Hopeful that this material object would be the very thing that would bring us together.”
She blows out a breath.
“But then your phone rang. You stepped away to take the call, and I sat on that swing staring out at the lake forhours. I knew with one pump of my legs I could start it on my own. But I wanted you to do it with me. I waited for you and…” Her voice cracks before she ever finishes the sentence, and my heart pitches in my chest.
Come on, Jack. Say something.
But he’s sitting there, stalk still, not touching her.
“I waited to feel that same joy I felt when you brought home that wooden plank from your camping trip.”
Camping trip?Wait… how many years ago did she say it had been since she had ridden on it?Eight?Nine?That would make me…
