Page 50 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

“He fixed Marta’s generator,” Raven says. “In October. She came out one morning and it was just—fixed. Nobody saw him do it. He left a note that saidI had the right part.Five words. That was the whole note.”

I look back at my laptop.

I am not thinking abouthim. I’m thinking abouthis brand.

“I’m just doing his marketing,” I say.

Raven gives me a look that suggests they find this claim charming.

“The Instagram girlies,” I add, “are going to absolutely lose their minds.”

“The Instagram girlies and also literally everyone in this park.” Raven tilts their head. “Okay but the tattoo. Can I see it?”

I hold out my arm.

Raven leans forward and looks at it for a long moment, then lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s stunning.”

“Right?”

I look at Medusa’s face, feeling stronger just by having her on my skin.

“Want me to read your cards?” Raven asks, excited and already reaching for their tarot deck.

But right as they hand the cards to me to shuffle, we’re interrupted by knocking at the RV door.

“Expecting someone?” I ask Raven. They haven’t had company over since I’ve been staying here, and I guess we should talk about how I can make myself scarce if?—

“Lennon?” Jake’s loud voice comes through the door. “I know you’re in there. Your car’s in the lot and your phone location says you’re here.”

Dammit. I’ve really got to turn that thing off.

“I just want to talk.”

Raven looks at me. They shake their head like I shouldn’t answer.

But this is embarrassing enough. Plus, maybe Jake will be reasonable about unfreezing the accounts if we can just talk?

Yes I have an appointment booked with a lawyer, but this is going to get crazy expensive if he makes this hard on us, and if I can just get him to be reasonable?—

I get up and open the door.

Jake looks terrible. There are dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping and he hasn’t shaved. Jake is generally handsome in the unremarkable way of someone who takes care of himself without thinking too much about it.

Right now, though, he’s clearly not taking care of himself. Some deeply conditioned part of me wants to fix that immediately.

I stand in the doorway and brace myself.

It’s not your job to fix it anymore.

“You could have called,” I say.

He has the grace to look down. “I deleted your number. That was— I panicked. I’m sorry.”

He looks back up, and his eyes have a sheen of tears again like when I told him I wanted a divorce.

It looks so real, even now after I’ve felt the effects of his financial manipulation, it threatens to make me emotional on his behalf. Just like it did every time he called on this particular tactic for nine years. “Can we talk? Just talk. Five minutes.”

I step outside and pull the door most of the way closed behind me. If only because Raven does not need to be part of whatever this is.