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I still wait for him to step through the front door and every day drudges to eternity.
Staring at my phone for the hundredth time, the commercial he’d done this summer is playing on repeat, capturing all his captivating angles.
I slightly veer my gaze away from where my phone is resting against the sugar container, Scar’s green eyes pop from the island stool, observing me as I place the ingredients on the counter and plot my vegetable massacre.
A devious smile pops on my face. I wiggle my eyebrows at Scar who looks enchanted by my nonsense.
I turn my music on and Jolene blasts my earphones, extracting the marvelous dance moves out of me.
Roasting some potatoes and carrots sounds like a lovely uprising. I chop them and spread some olive oil and seasoning on top, blend everything, and toss it into a baking pan for twenty minutes.
Exhaling a tiny sigh, “Now what?” I pat Scar’s head.
Jamey leans against the counter, “What are you making?”
“I’m tossing potatoes and carrots in the oven.”
“Odd choice.”
I squint my eyes at him. “That’s the only thing I found and while Mom and Dad are on vacation I rather do the cooking since your culinary skills are nonexistent.” I give him a sardonic smile.
He presses his hand to his chest, “Ouch.”
I roll my eyes as I rip the oven gloves off my hands.
“We can order pizza.”
“That’s the only thing we ate this week.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he shrugs.
“Absolutely not.” I set the timer. “We need a proper meal at least once.”
“I hope it’s edible,” he strolls away, “Otherwise I’m telling Mom and Dad you didn’t feed me properly.”
A gust of wind brings the salty scent of the ocean to marinate my skin and blend with the aroma of the roasted vegetables in the oven.
The surging waves in the distance curl and break dangerously, painting a spume across the coastline. Jamey and I used to run across it, wiggle our toes, and collect seashells as souvenirs.
My eyes brim with tears,why does it still hurt?
I miss you, Jam.
I miss the sound of your voice.
I miss you calling me, Len.
I miss you running around to tell me about something you’re excited about.
I miss your presence.
I miss you.
Watery streaks skid down my cheeks. All my emotions, one by one, add to the growing pile of knots I conceal in my stomach.
The truth is Dean hurt me.
I shouldn’t be hurt like this. Nothing is going on between us.
