“I’m honored to be one of the few,” he says, turning on the sink and letting the water wash off the cereal remnants.
I take another sip of my iced chai. “You don’t remember spending time with your sister as a baby?” I ask, not sure exactly where the question comes from, but there’s something about how nervous he is around Evee that makes me want to make him feel more comfortable.
“I was eight when she was born, and I tried to pretend she didn’t exist when they brought her home because I wanted a baby brother, not a sister,” he explains, turning off the sink and drying his hands on the towel hanging on the oven. “I probably held her a few times, but I don’t really remember.”
I nod, thinking of more questions to ask, so I can keep listening to his voice. “Is she your only sibling?”
“Yeah, it’s just me and Emerson,” he answers, leaning back on the counter next to me, matching my pose. “What about you?Any brothers or sisters?” He looks down at me, his gaze going from my eyes to my lips so quickly, I think I imagined it.
I shake my head, not only to answer his question but to shake away the ridiculous thought. “Just me.”
“Did you grow up around here?” he asks, keeping the conversation going. I know he’s here to fix the door, but I can’t ignore the butterflies in my belly at the thought of him wanting to get to know me, the same way I want to get to know him.
As a friend, I remind myself.
“No, I’m originally from Minneapolis,” I say. “I moved here last year after my accident.”
He says something else, but it doesn’t register. I’m too busy watching his hands come to the top of the counter behind him, causing his muscles to strain against his T-shirt. I can’t help the way my eyes move down his arms to where his hands hold the edge.
“Rumi?” I hear, and I shake my head again before looking back up at him.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I find a knowing smirk on his face, but I’m thankful he doesn’t comment on the way I was just drooling over his arms like a dog.
“I asked what brought you here,” he reiterates.
“It’s a funny story actually, “ I say, a dry laugh escaping. “Funny” is a relative term—a more appropriate descriptor of the story would be depressing, so I make sure to leave some of the more personal details out. “One of my nurses from the accident was actually Ava’s younger sister who lives an hour north from here. She’s the one who introduced me to Ava who was looking for a roommate.”
“You and Ava have only known each other for a year?” Jack asks, and I can’t help but notice the surprise in his tone.
“Yeah, Evee and I moved here after staying at the hospital for a few weeks to recover from the injuries from the accident andbef—” I stop myself, not wanting the conversation to go in that direction.
At the thought of “before”, what pushed me to finally leave, it’s like all the air in my lungs is stolen, like I was punched in the stomach.
My mind revisits that night every so often, how different it was from nights before, how it finally showed me I had to get out of that house.
It’s not that I’m ashamed of my past, but there are parts of it that are hard to admit, especially to someone I’m only starting to get to know. I’m not ready to share those chapters of my story.
Yet.
But the way Jack listens to me, it feels like I’ve known him much longer than a few days—like he knows parts of me that I don’t always show at first.
Or even ever.
It’s exciting yet confusing the way his attention makes me feel like I’m basking in the sun rather than hiding in the shade.
Ava always would remind me how not everyone—specifically every man—out there is like my father or Trevor, but I haven’t let myself really get to know anyone to see if she was right.
And here’s Jack, someone so kind and thoughtful, someone my daughter took an instant liking to, someone who makes me comfortable to be myself rather than the version I think he wants me to be.
Maybe Ava was right.
But maybe it’s too soon to tell.
I can’t let what happened with Trevor happen again.
“My injuries from the accident,” I say before quickly adding, “living, working, and basically raising a newborn together brought us together super fast. I feel like I’ve known her my whole life.”
If Jack caught on to my slight slip-up with my story or where my mind went for a brief moment, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he affirms, “I’m glad you had someone there for you after your accident.” There’s a softness to his eyes as he says it. He watches me carefully, his eyes roaming my face for a moment, and I stay silent, waiting to see what he says—or does—next.
