L—

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Lisa: Walking?

Jennie: Hi! Not yet

Jennie: Today I got a boot. My mom left two weeks ago

Jennie: I'm a pro with crutches

It's been weeks since I messaged her. I thought she'd keep the conversation going, but she didn't. So here I am … itching to talk to her.

Lisa: I need a video of this new "pro"fession

Minutes later, my phone chimes. It's a video of Jennie in shorts, a tee, her boot, and a massive smile while navigating a flight of stairs.

Lisa: Now ur just showing off

Jennie: Lol. I'm sweating. Stairs are a beast. I'm sure u saw me pitting out

I grin.

Lisa: U look pretty today

I watch the typing bubbling appear and disappear over and over.

Lisa: Say it

Jennie: Don't say those words. I'm too vulnerable

Lisa: Why?

Jennie: Immobility = depression. I've had so much anxiety—panic attacks

Jennie: When my mom was here, she helped me through them

Jennie: Since she's been gone, I've had to deal with them alone

Lisa: Sorry to hear that. U still look pretty

Jennie: (crying emojis)

Lisa: (hug emojis)

Jennie: Sorry

Jennie: Teddy's mom is in the hospital. So he's in Maine for who knows how long

Jennie: It's quiet. I'm going crazy

Jennie: Of course it's my right leg so I can't drive

Jennie: Yesterday I paid an Uber driver to take me for a ride

Jennie: Just a ride (laughing emoji-face-palm emoji)

Lisa: Wanna FaceTime?

Jennie: Sure

She answers her call on the first ring. "Hi."

"Hi." I can't hide my grin. Her hair's in braided pigtails.

"When do you start physical therapy?"

Jennie sighs, blowing her bangs out of her face. "Next week."

"Tell me about the anxiety."

She proceeds to tell me about her panic attacks. We talk for over an hour, and I have to end it because I have a podcast interview.

"This was fun. You have no idea how much I needed to have a face-to-face conversation with someone besides my mom. Rosé's pregnant and refuses to FaceTime with me because her face is too puffy."

"Well, I'm your girl. Anytime you want to see my handsome face, it's yours."

"I see you haven't lost an ounce of confidence."

"Yeah, right. That's why it took me so long to tell you why I visited you after your accident."

"True." Her lips twist.

"Take care." I give her a cheesy wave.

She mirrors my cheesy wave, but it doesn't look cheesy coming from her.

Once an idiot, always an idiot.

A real job with a real boss would be useful when I get hair-brained ideas like this one.

"I think you need out of the house," I casually tell my dad while unloading the dishwasher.

"You're kicking me out?" he asks from my recliner that he's claimed as his own.

"Not yet. I'm suggesting a trip. When's the last time you took a trip?"

"When She kicked me out."

She, with a capital "S," is my mom. Although, he's consistent and says "Her" with a capital "H" when necessary. I miss my parents, Bill and Alice. Now I'm dealing with She/Her and Man Child. Yes, my mom refers to my dad as Man Child because he lost all rights to be a grown man after throwing a tantrum the day she moved him out.

"Since your last big trip was to jail, I think you're due. How do you feel about Nashville?"

"You're sending me to Nashville? Do I look like someone who knows how to line dance?"

I shake my head with a silent chuckle. "I can't answer that until we get you some boots and a proper hat."

"I've got bad knees. You know that. One wrong move, and I could be ass over ears. What about Vegas? We could rent one of those stripper buses like Warren did for his son's fortieth birthday."

"There were twelve of us on that trip. I'm just talking about the two of us."

"We've got the means. Who cares if it's just the two of us."

I steal the remote from the arm of his chair and shut off the TV. "There's a woman I want to visit in Nashville. I'll put you up in a nice hotel since we have the means. But you have to promise to be on your best behavior. Shower. Eat. Act like the grown man you are."

"You're flying to Nashville to get laid? Surely you can get laid locally. It's better for the environment."

Resting a fist on my hip, I stare at the ceiling. "She's a friend. And she's alone and on crutches from an accident. I can tell she's having a rough time since her roommate's out of town. I want to help her out for a few days."

"Then I'll stay here."

"The last time I was gone, Talia Johanssen called the police because you got the mail … naked."

"You know that's not what happened. It was an Amazon package—"

"In the mailbox?"

He frowns, squinting his eyes. "And I wasn't naked. I was wearing boxers."

"You were drunk and wearing them on your head."

He lifts a shoulder and drops it. "I was wearing underwear. That's the truth."

"I'll pack your bag. Now, go take a shower. We can get an eleven-twenty flight tomorrow."

..

When the plane lands in Nashville, I check my dad into a hotel and order him room service.

"I'm probably staying the night with Jennie, so don't wait up. And by don't wait up, I mean lights off, TV off, and the laptop shut by eleven. I'll be back in the morning to check on you."

"You're going to get some whoopie with a girl on crutches?" He whistles. "Good for you, girl. Just be careful. The last thing we need is you getting sued and losing more of this family's money."

I'm speechless.

I shouldn't be by this point, but I am. My dad used to be a stand-up guy. A shrewd businessman. A well-respected publisher. A loving husband. A devoted father.

Now he's … I don't even know.

"Call me if you need anything that's a true human necessity."

He plops onto the bed and turns on the TV. "Well, that's open to wide interpretation."

"It's not," I say before shutting the door behind me.

..

Jennie opens her door after several knocks. Her glossed lips part while she balances on one leg and crutches. After a few seconds, her gaze slides to the backpack in one hand and then to the petal-less bouquet of stems in my other hand.

"What …" The trail of petals on the sidewalk behind me steals her attention. "What are you doing here?"

"I have no idea. One minute I was texting you. The next I was FaceTiming. And in the next breath … I was boarding a plane to Nashville." I shrug. "Are you busy? I can come back another time."

Shock still dominates her face, but she grins after a few more seconds. "I have a little free time to spare." She hobbles backward a few feet to let me inside.

I set my bag on the floor and the stems on the banister. "Are you up for a drive? Or have you and an Uber driver already gone on a date?"

Jennie laughs, and I instantly think of anything to keep her laughing. I've missed it so much.

"If you're calling my outing with an Uber driver a date, then it implies that you taking me for a drive would be a date." She leans forward a fraction, putting more weight on her crutches. "Did you fly to Nashville to take me on a date?"

"Do you need help getting to the car?"

We have a stare-off.

"I do not."

I glance over her shoulder at the artwork on the wall. How did I miss it the first time? Her gaze follows mine to the oil-painted portrait of an old woman.

"You like it?" she asks.

"It's … well, no offense to your friend, but it looks a little juvenile."

"Juvenile?"

I nod. "Like a child painted a portrait of their grandmother in seventh-grade art class. But hey, art is very personal. I'm sure Teddy fell in love with it."

"Juvenile?" she says slowly.

I shrug and nod; then it hits me. "Oh, don't tell me, he has a child who painted it?"

Jennie stares at the painting. "No. I picked it out during the remodel. I fell in love with it at an art expo downtown."

Fuck my life.

"Well, it was nice knowing you." I pick up my bag and reach for the door handle.

"Where are you going?"

I pause, hanging my head. "I never say the right thing. I'm always saying the wrong word to you. And it's always an unintentional insult. I should stop speaking. There's a reason I'm single. I don't know how to keep my mouth shut."

"I'm not offended," she says.

When I get the nerve to face her, she smiles.

"You don't have to like my taste in art. In music. Food. Books …"

"But I don't have to show my distaste for things you like outwardly."

"True." Jennie smirks. "But you said it yourself; it's unintentional. So let's go. I need out of here." She nods toward the door.

After pausing to let my reluctance work its way out of my conscience, I open the door for her, and we take a drive. She rolls down the window and lets the wind tangle with her hair.

Eyes closed.

Lips bent into a beautiful smile.

After miles of nothing but the wind and radio filling the space around us, I take the next exit and pull into Wendy's.

"What are you doing?" Jennie opens her eyes and lifts her head.

"I'm feeling a Frosty."

"A Frosty?"

"Yeah. Want one?"

"Uh …"

"It's one of the five original menu items. A classic." I lower the window to order. "Two Frosties."

"And a small fry." Jennie shrugs. "What are you going to dip in the Frosty?"

I chuckle, turning toward the speaker. "And a large fry."

"You know, there are a bunch of great places to get ice cream here."

"But only one place to get my favorite Frosty."

"Is it a little odd that you know the Frosty is one of Wendy's original five menu items?"

"Not at all." I wait for the car in front of us to pull away from the window.

We get our Frosties and fries and park in the lot. Jennie dips a fry into her Frosty, and I do the same.

"I'm supposed to be working," she says. "I asked for more work because I've been going stir-crazy."

"And I've derailed your day?" I offer her an apologetic frown around my straw. "I'll take you home after we're done here, and I'll leave you to get your work done."

"Leave me? And go where?"

"Home."

"Stop." She giggles. "You can't fly to Nashville just for a drive and a stop at Wendy's."

"I can. It would serve me right for showing up unannounced."

"You showing up unannounced is the best thing that's happened to me since the last time you showed up unannounced."

I bite back my automatic brush-off of her compliment. Instead, I use my next breath to say everything I've already said in a text. Maybe it will land better now that we're face-to-face. Or maybe it will mean more because so much time has passed. "Jennie, I've had so much time to think about this. I've tried to say it a dozen ways, hoping one way might resonate and make things better. What happened between us was unavoidable. I know why you didn't tell me it was your book—"

"Lisa—"

"No." I shake my head. "I have to say this. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was natural for me to have an opinion of something that seemed inconsequential. But it was just as natural for you to feel heartbroken because it was anything but inconsequential to you. I wish I had seen it clearer, but I was too invested in us. I was angry that something was coming between us. And all I could see was that it was 'just' a book. I felt betrayed, but I didn't know why. You weren't trying to lie to anyone. You were taking a risk that felt necessary to you. And I see that now. But I deeply regret taking out my frustration over us on your manuscript. I regret making you feel like anything less than a talented and brave person for following your dreams. Every word I said was wrong—most were unintentionally wrong. But there were words exchanged that I wish I could take back even though I know it wouldn't have changed our outcome. And for those words, I'm so sorry."

She stirs her Frosty with a fry; it's so soaked I think it might break off and drown. "I was …" She lifts her gaze, a blank stare aimed at the car parked in front of us. "I was immature. My ego engulfed everything and everyone around me. And I was blinded by the feeling that I left a part of myself in that story. I couldn't see the forest through the trees. I couldn't separate myself from the book. So I knew—I thought I knew—that you really didn't like me if you didn't like this…" she shakes her head, closing her eyes "…this thing that felt like a part of me that I loved so much."

I nod several times.

"It felt like …" Jennie chuckles. "It felt like you thought I was nice, and we had a few things in common, and you liked my body, but you didn't really like my personality." Her nose scrunches when she glances at me. "But over the past three years, as I've thought about it—and I've thought about it a lot—I imagined discovering that you loved to sing. It was your passion. And you felt like it expressed your soul. But when you sang for me, I thought you sounded awful."

I don't know where she's going with this, but it's amusing.

"I wouldn't have liked you any less. But it would have been hard for me to support your quest to become a rock star wholeheartedly. Does that make sense?"

I shove a wad of fries in my mouth and mumble, "You don't think I'm a good singer?"

She snorts before sipping her Frosty. "I don't know. I haven't heard you sing."

"Such a crime. I'm pretty good. I can slay Josh Kerr's Backseats and Burnt CDs."

Jennie's head tips back in laughter. "Oh my gosh … I needed this. And I'm sure you're a great singer. You haven't decided what you want to be when you grow up because you can do anything." Her laughter simmers, but her grin remains.

It feels warm in my chest, a high like climbing the face of a mountain and standing at the top.

..

When we return to the house, Jennie steps out of the car and hops on one foot to retrieve her crutches from the back seat.

"I could have gotten those for you."

"My Uber driver doesn't." She shoots me a goofy grin over the roof of the car.

"Oh, Jennie, I hope you don't give him a second date if he doesn't show more chivalry."

She unlocks the front door. "How did your chivalrousness slip my mind?"

"That's an excellent question."

As soon as Jennie reaches the recliner, she collapses with a long sigh. I peruse the room's perimeter, inspecting everything on the walls and shelves, but I don't say anything. Words get me into trouble with Jennie. And I didn't make the trip to offend her. I'm not sure why I made the trip, but I'm here, and there's no place I'd rather be.

"I'm going to finish a project that's due in the morning. It should take about an hour. If you brought your suit, you can swim."

Facing her, I slip my hands into my pockets. "No suit."

"You could borrow one of Teddy's."

"I'll pass. I'm not a fan of swim briefs."

With a snort, she narrows her eyes. "What makes you think he wears swim briefs?"

"Just a hunch."

She shakes her head, a blinding smile on her face. We stare at each other. Explanations have been given. Apologies have been exchanged. Yet, there's something we're still ignoring.

"I can't believe you're here."

I shrug it off like I was in the neighborhood and just decided to drop by. "What if I raid the fridge and make us something for dinner?"

"Sure. Good luck with that. I've been ordering takeout since Teddy left."

I have no idea what's in the kitchen, but I'm determined to make a great meal out of something.

Over the next hour, I busy myself in the kitchen while Jennie works on her computer, headphones covering her ears. I hand her a bowl when she slips them off her head and closes her computer.

"Where did you get the pasta?" She stares at the plate.

"Not from the pantry." I fake a frown while sitting on the sofa with my bowl. "There was a jar of pasta sauce but no pasta. How does that happen?"

She eyes the pasta and then glances up at me again. "So … where did you get the pasta?"

"I made it."

"What?"

I shrug, twirling the pasta around my fork. "I made it."

"You made it?"

"Of course. It's three ingredients."

Jennie looks like I told her water isn't wet. "We don't have a pasta maker."

"I'm the pasta maker. I made the pasta. It's called two hands, a rolling pin, and a knife. Any more questions?"

Taking a bite, she chews it slowly. "It's … good."

"It's okay. The jarred sauce isn't the most complementary but works in a pinch."

"You're full of surprises." She grins after licking sauce from her lips.

Two things get confirmed by her reply.

One: I like surprising her.

Two: I like it when she licks her lips.

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