“Aren’t you the clever boy?” My chin lowered slightly along with my shoulders. “You don’t see him becauseIbarely see him. I could tell you about his demanding job, the one that helps him afford his ridiculously expensive lawyers who fought my mom with unprecedented savagery in order to get me here two weekends a month, but that’s the pile of horse crap that horses crap on. It’s not about the money—it’s about me. I don’t even think he’d keep Shelly around if he wasn’t legally required to have someone with me. He couldn’t care less about me. I mean, obviously.” I kicked at a freshly painted baseboard.
“You said I was petty the first day you met me.” I shook my head with a small smile. “I’ve got nothing on my dad. Somehow my mom managed to convince him that she wants me more than anything else, so of course he’s determined to take me away from her. If he thought killing me would make her suffer, I’d have a dozen hit men after me.”
“Geez, Jolene.”
“Too morbid for you? Sorry and whatever, but you did ask.”
“You just talked about your father plotting to murder you out of spite.”
“I believe the word I used waspetty.” One foot in front of the other, I walked my makeshift tightrope again until Adam pulled my arm.
“Would you stop for a minute? Don’t you see how messed up that is? Tell your mom or her lawyer or someone.”
I laughed. “My mom would try to use it as leverage to get more alimony, and my dad would likely retaliate by having me committed—there, is that better than murder?”
“No,” he said, his face frozen in an expression that made me scowl.
“Get over yourself.”
“I’m trying to get over you.” My gaze shot to his, wide and unblinking, and he reddened, adding, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—I don’t know what I meant.”
“Let’s forget it, okay? I don’t want us to waste our time fighting about something that doesn’t matter. I’m here, you’re here. You obviously missed me.” I rubbed my side again, hoping for a smile or something besides that half grimace he still wore. “And I’m not in a rush to hang out with Shelly, so...”Come on, Adam. Come on...
“No,” he said after a pause. “No, it does matter.”
I groaned. “Fine, it matters, but...” I groaned again. “You’re such an idiot, you’re gonna make me say it.”
“I’m the idiot?”
“You, stupid. It doesn’t matter because ofyou. Two weekends a month. It’s not a bad trade-off.”
My stomach seemed to twist in two different directions as I waited for his response. The days with him were worth enduring the ones with my parents—the presence of one and the absence of the other. He was a jerk for making me spell it out. The prickle was back behind my eyes, and he needed to say something. Fast.
I was still holding Adam’s bag, and his fingers glided across mine, warm and smooth, as he transferred the weight to his.
“Me, too.”
“What?” My gaze snapped away from our hands to his face.
“It’s not a picnic with my family right now either—for different reasons, but still. Two weekends a month. It’s not a bad trade-off.”
And then he smiled at me like a dope.
And I smiled back.
ADAM
“What made you think of ice-skating?” Jolene asked on Sunday afternoon as I opened the door to the rink for her.
“Winter. Snow. Ice. The thought of potentially watching you fall on your face before we go back to our respective homes tonight.”And, I mentally reminded myself as my face warmed,the excuse to hold on to you if you need help balancing.
She grinned. “What makes you think I’m not an Olympic-level figure skater?”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“What, like, never?”
