“Have you heard from that ass wipe since the fight?” Jake says as he pulls out of the parking lot.
Is it wrong that I kind of love how much he hates Tom? Because I do.
“Break-up,” I correct. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep staring straight ahead. “Nope. And I won’t because I blocked his number.”
His chuckle is just a huff of air, with a smile. “I should have known. When you hurt Terra Hawkins, you get the emotional guillotine without hesitation.”
“What on earth is an emotional guillotine?”
“You don’t push people away. You cut them off. Shut them out. It’s actually both terrifying and admirable,” Jake tells me. “Also hurts like a bitch.”
“You think I cut you off? When? You’ve been in my life forever,” I argue back, kind of annoyed with his description of me, even though I know he’s not wrong. “Except when you chose to leave.”
“We gonna pretend you didn’t treat me like I didn’t exist or like you wished I didn’t exist from about the time you were fourteen until I left?” Jake says casually, giving me a quick glance. His dark eyes are stern and very, very sexy.
I refuse to speak of what he is referencing. “No deep conversations before dialysis.”
He is still staring and my stupid head starts to turn toward him without my consent. If I see pity on his face my heart will break. But it’s not pity staring back at me; it’s a simple, sweet smile.
“So… can you give me a little more intel on all this kidney stuff?” Jake asks gently. “I can’t exactly Google and drive, and I hate to admit my knowledge of dialysis and kidney problems related to lupus are nada.”
“Google is not accurate anyway,” I tell him and then take a deep breath and give him the Cliff Notes about how lupus can cause nephritis which is inflammation in the kidneys and it affects their ability to filter waste. How I managed it with drugs for years but those stopped working and now my only options are dialysis or a new kidney. I explain how my brothers and parents have been tested, but no one can donate either because of blood types that don’t match or because of pre-existing conditions.
“Does the donor have to be family?” Jake asks the question I was hoping he wouldn’t.
Tom asked it too, and the answer somehow made him feel obligated. I don’t want to pressure Jake for anything. I tried that once in a closet in the Barlowe’s basement, and I promised myself I would never do that again. For any reason. But he keeps glancing over at me, waiting for an answer, and I’m not going to lie. “No it doesn’t have to be family, they’re just usually a stronger match. I’m on the national list to get one from an organ donor. And Nova and Javi are going to be tested. We’re waiting on results. After that Ma wants to tell Mrs. Green so she can blog about it in hopes someone in town will want to get tested and donate if they match. Dear God if I have to give that woman a scoop for her gossip blog to get a kidney...”
I roll my eyes in frustration. Jake reaches across the seats and pats my hand. “Nobody hates Mrs. Green’s nosiness more than me. Do you know when I was seventeen she came up to me at Illumination Night and told me I had the exact same eyes as the mayor and that he used to frequent my mom’s work establishment when he was… how did she say it? On the sauce.”
He whispers that last bit in a scratchy voice in a high pitch like he’s impersonating Mrs. Green. My mouth falls open at the story. Ugh. Poor Jake. His mother’s ‘place of employment’ for most of his life was the strip club out by the airport. The mayor was far from a drunk, and also a pale, balding, red-headed man that looked nothing like Jake. “But Tink, if her big mouth finds you a match and saves your life I will never slag her again.”
“If Aspen heard any of our hallway conversation, Mrs. Green probably already knows,” I grumble.
Jake squeezes my hand before returning his to the steering wheel. “She wouldn’t tell anyone even if she did hear. In fact she’d want to help you, not hurt you.”
“I’d take a kidney from the devil before I took one from Aspen,” I say, completely aware the statement is a mix of false bravado and melodramatics.
“You still hate her that much?”
I nod.
Jake shakes his head. “I’m beginning to think this is about more than a prom dress.”
I snort. “Please don’t say it took you seven years to figure that out.”
“You wanna share the truth?” Jake asks as he turns into the parking lot for Casco Bay Memorial
“Ask your roommate.” I reply snarkily and then point. “Park over there, please. I need to go in the main entrance, but I don’t want your truck in plain sight.”
He does what I ask and parks at the far end of the lot under a massive weeping willow then turns off the engine.
“Okay…” I dig in my bag. “Shit. I forgot my blanket.”
“Blanket?”
“I get cold sometimes during treatment. They’ll give you a blanket but they’re always scratchy so I usually bring my own. Anyway, no biggie.”
I keep digging in my bag and pull out a baseball cap and my biggest, darkest pair of sunglasses and put them both on. Jake barks out a laugh. “Are we reenacting an episode ofThe Americansor something?”
