She doesn’t shake it away, but I think a part of her knew I wouldn’t let her if she tried.
“What about your dad? I’ve never heard you mention him,” I say, watching her closely, but in reality, I never hear her mention anyone from her family at all.
I don’t even know if she has any siblings.
“He died in a car accident when I was five, so I don’t really remember a lot.” She smiles with a weak shrug, and I want to kick myself for bringing him into the conversation. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her camera roll until she lands on the photo she wants to show me.
“This was me when I was three. My dad is the man carrying me on his shoulders, and my mom is the one beside us. Thepicture shows the perfect, happy family.” She averts her eyes from the screen, but mine remain glued to it. “Then my dad died two years later, and the family in that picture crumbled apart—ceased to exist.” Her dad’s features are similar to hers, but the Jenna I knownowis a carbon copy of her mother.
The same blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and fair skin.
“I’m—”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She waves me off with another smile. “For a long, long time, I wondered what it would be like if it were her instead of him. But after seeing her the way she was when I got back home, and hearing the word ‘stroke’ get thrown around so casually…” she draws a deep, shaky breath. “I used to wish my dad were here, because I knew that he would’ve loved me no matter what. But she didn’t. When he died, it felt like her love for me died, too—buried right along with him.” Her voice cracks, and her body trembles slightly.
“Is she dying?” I ask reluctantly, and she shakes her head in response. “You know that for sure?” I ask again, but this time she nods.
“She said they it was minor,” she replies, letting my hand go, hugging her knees up to her chest. “Am I a bad person for wishing that it was more?” She looks up at me, her eyes still red and glossy, eyelashes damp and thick as she blinks away more silent tears.
“I don’t know what your relationship was like with your mom, Jenna, but Idoknow that you wouldn’t wish that for no reason. You’d be there with her if she deserved for you to be.”
She sniffles, focusing her eyes back out the window.
“If I guess, will you tell me if I’m right or wrong?” I ask, and she laughs quietly, threading her fingers together. “My guess is, you came back because you realized your worth.”
She nods, and it hits me with just how little confidence she really has.
“You wanted to be there for her, but she said something that made you feel like you weren’t wanted.” I watch her, worried that I’ve said the wrong thing. It’s true, I don’t know what her relationship with her mom is like, and my assumption is met without a response for a long time. Until she opens her window, filling the car with a slight breeze.
“Does it make me a bad person for leaving her?”
I take her hand again, and she turns to face me. I make sure her eyes are locked on mine when I shake my head. “I’m sure you have your reasons for wanting to be here and not there.”
“God, I shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you,” she says with a sigh, rubbing her palms on her bare legs. “Cassandra is usually the person I go to for everything, but she’s off being happy and in love, so you were my next option.” She smirks at me, changing the tone and topic of the conversation, and I let her.
“Wow, what an honor to be second best,” I tease back, but she freezes at what I’ve said before realizing that I meant it sarcastically.
“You weren’t second, Cole. You were fourth.” She swats my chest with the back of her hand. Her mood suddenly shifts.
“Want to see what all the fuss is about with this creek?” I ask, and she takes a deep—a steady breath—before she nods, opening the car door and stepping out before I have the chance to open it for her.
We follow the sound of the water, using my phone’s torch for light, making sure none of us breaks an ankle on the rocks, before we finally find a flat surface to get comfortable on.
“What’s on your mind, Snow?” I ask, hoping it gets her to open up to me a little more. I feel like now that I’m slowly getting to know her, I need to know every little detail.
“My dad,” she admits with a sigh, picking up a tiny rock, throwing it into the wide, open bed of water in front of us. “I’vealready mourned both of my parents, you know? Because in a lot of ways, it feels like I lost both of them that night,” she says quietly, and I know she hates the fact that she’s admitting this out loud. “I just know he would have put me first where she never did. He would have listened to me and not forgotten I existed. I wouldn’t have scars on my body from shattered glass bouncing off the walls, or hospitalized because of hypothermia. I would have known what it felt like to grow uploved.” Her voice cracks at her admission, and my heart breaks knowing that hers has no doubt been damaged beyond repair by the one person who was meant to protect it—protecther.
I want to ask more questions, dig deeper into it and have herwantto open up to me, but that’s not my role in all of this, is it?
“That’s enough sad shit from me.” She laughs awkwardly, shaking her head in disbelief, wiping the fallen tears off her cheeks one last time.
I throw my arm over her shoulder, pulling her body closer to me, and she attempts to push me away, but I squeeze her tighter.
I need her to feel like she’s safe with me, and I hope that whatever I can offer her at this moment…God, I just hope that it’s enough.
We spend the rest of the night refusing to talk about anything of importance, instead, watching the ripples in the dark, murky water.
“I hear there are sharks in there,” she tells me, dead serious, scrunching her nose up at the thought.
