“Is something wrong? What can I do to help?” I set my cup on the table next to her, ready to spring into action.
Without answering, Jake averts his gaze and returns his attention to Rosemarie. His jaw is so tight you could bounce a quarter off it.
“Here you go, Rosemarie.” He gives her a warm smile as he hands her the package, which she eagerly takes from him.
“Thank you, Jake. I appreciate it. That blast of wind was more than I expected.”
I rotate my shoulders. His dismissal was directed toward me and not because he was worried about Rosemarie being hurt. She’s clearly fine.
But as I step closer, I notice the way Rosemarie keeps her weight off her left foot.
Twisted ankle. My EMT instincts kick in before I can stop myself. “Did you roll your ankle?”
Rosemarie nods. “Just a little twist when the wind grabbed the bag.”
Jake glances down at her foot, then back at me. And for a brief moment, we’re on the same page, assessing the situation rather than each other.
“She almost went down.” Jake tilts his head as he continues to survey her. “I figured getting her off of it would be the best option.”
“You did the right thing.” The words come out before I remember we aren’t speaking to each other.
He nods once but doesn’t comment.
I rotate my shoulders again, suddenly feeling the weight of the silence between us.
Damn it. You were the one who keeps accusing him of becoming a police officer to control people or to pick up women, so don’t go wishing he was smiling at you like you were the center of the universe.
Why would he pay attention to you? You’ve been nothing but insulting and dismissive since he came back.
He says something to Rosemarie that I can’t hear. What if I’ve been wrong about him? It’s evident that he enjoys helping people, and people adore his assistance. So what if he likes women and doesn’t want to settle down? It’s not his fault that he never noticed me like that.
None of this is his problem. He has no obligation to be a one-woman man–my man–because I want him to notice me.
I’m a fool. A stupid, immature fool. Just like he said that night in my mother’s kitchen.
I step in front of Rosemarie as the OATS van crosses a nearby intersection and disappears down a side street. “Let me check your ankle.”
“It’s fine.”
“Let Emily be the judge of that.” Jake nods at both of us.
“Of course.”
I squat in front of her, moving her foot from side to side. She only flinches once when I tilt her toes upward.
“I was walking to the park bench to wait for my ride when the wind snatched my bag. I was getting ready to pick up my groceries when Jake showed up and helped me into this chair. Isn’t he the sweetest thing?” She shakes her head, but luckily, she doesn’t wait for me to answer her question. “I don’t know when it happened, but somehow, I’ve turned into a little old lady.”
She laughs, and we smile at her in return as I release her foot, lowing it gently to the ground. Rosemarie isn’t an old lady. Sure, she’s probably in her sixties, but she’s not feeble or unable to keep up with the hectic life of a business owner.
“I don’t believe you broke anything. You should be fine with rest, elevation, and ice.”
“Thank you, dear.” She smiles warmly at me as I return to a standing position.
“Rosemarie, you’re still a spry young girl.” Jake winks at her, causing the older woman to blush, and for once, his teasing personality doesn’t bother me.
How often have I assumed he was flirting with someone when he was trying to ease and reduce someone’s embarrassment? Or their worry about their health? Or just to help someone fit in?
Just this once? Or all the time? The answer is likely somewhere in between.
