“Yup. Can’t wait to see your ugly mug.”
“Yeah, me too.” I hurry on before she can give me shit. “Bran’s having a party, so it should be a good time.”
We hang up a minute later, and my feet keep their slow rhythm until I’m back at the house. This time, I purposely examine it with fresh eyes. It’s more of a shack than a house, really. Nothing more than a foundation with some clumsily assembled clapboard and a few windows. It was built back in the sixties on this postage-stamp lot before all the hurricane regulations. It’s taken a few hits but is somehow still standing with a few slapdash repairs and such. There’s a bed for me and an ocean right outside, though, so what more could a person need? Combine that with the facts that I didn’t die and I have a good handful of people who care about me, and I should count myself more than a little lucky. So why can’t I seem to keep myself from being an asshole?
I think about trying to find the girl and apologize, but I don’t have a clue which place she’s staying at. It’s probably for the best anyway. She’s likely already forgotten I exist, just like I should forget about her. But I can’t seem to get her sunshine out of my mind—or stop wondering why in the hell she told me to make her a turkey pot pie.
Chapter Eight
JILL
I’m on the phone with Jenna as soon as the Uber pulls from Milo’s driveway. The wait was excruciating. I didn’t dare turn back to the house as I stood stock-still on the gravel, afraid I’d see two sets of angry eyes glaring at me. It turns out my mother was right; I should take a page from Jenna’s book and think things through once in a while before jumping in headfirst.
“You’re never going to guess who I just ran into.” I do my best impression of a non-crazy person.
“Considering I don’t even know where you are, I’d say you’re right.”
“I’m in Wilmington—sort of.” She’ll know what I mean. The whole area is made up of the city of Wilmington and then little beach towns and land preserves stacked alongside and below it from Wrightsville Beach down to Kure Beach, with the Intracoastal Waterway winding in between. I hadn’t planned on telling her my whereabouts just yet, but I need to talk to someone about Milo and she’s not just my sister, she’s my best friend.
“Wilmington? Oh, I love that place. That’s where we spent the last summer before I got married—the same summer you broke your arm. Do you remember?”
I refrain from saying “no doi” and just go with a hum of agreement as I finally give in to temptation and peek out the rearview window at the receding row of houses. Granted, Milo’s house isn’t the most impressive on the beach, but it would be a giant leap up the accommodation food chain from the hellhole I’ve been staying in—and it sure would have been nice to wake to sounds of the ocean. Sigh.
Jenna’s voice snaps me back to reality. “Oh! Did you run into Noah Chandler from Brothers of Moon Bay? Wait, are they even filming that show anymore? I remember you had a little crush on him back then. Or was that the other guy?”
Wow. Talk about simplifying a situation. But I didn’t share everything with her back then or in the years since.
“No, not the Moon Bay guys. And that show’s been off the air for years now, grandma.” I turn back around in my seat and focus on the back of my driver’s head instead. His name is Klint with a K. His car smells like peaches, and it makes me wish I’d taken the time to eat breakfast.
“Very funny. I’m way too young to be a grandma and you know it.”
I hear her boyfriend Sam’s voice in the background saying something about not knowing many grandmas who wear crotchless underwear. My sister gasps, and I snort into the phone. Damn, I miss them.
“I’m glad my misadventures amuse you people,” Jenna says. “Now tell me who you ran into.”
“Milo.” I whisper it as if Klint and Milo are BFFs and I’m afraid he’ll spill that I was gossiping about him at the lunch table.
“Who’s Milo?”
“Milo Papatonis.” I bring my voice back up to normal levels, rolling my eyes at myself. “That jerk from the beach. The one who came over for dinner and broke that pelican statue that summer.”
“Wait, is that the guy who had that boating accident? Poor kid. I remember him.”
I want to say he’s no kid anymore, but she doesn’t need to read into anything. And, besides, he never deserved anyone feeling sorry for him, then or now.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Klint takes a left, and I hold on to a couple of my bags so they don’t fall on the floor. “I saw him today, and he was just as much of an asshole as he was back then.”
“He remembered you?”
I huff. “Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. I can’t believe you guys recognized each other. I mean, you hardly knew him.”
Ugh. I keep forgetting how much I kept from her.
“Well, be that as it may, it didn’t stop him from calling me shallow and telling me I have a flat ass within sixty seconds of saying hello.” God, Klint deserves a huge tip for not even flinching at that one.
Silence.
“Jenna?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just… speechless really.”
“I know, right? What a douchebag.” Another turn and another grasp at my bags.
“No. I mean, yeah but…” She’s using her cautious tone, which means I’m not going to like what comes next.
“But what?”
“Honestly, Jill, you’re the only person I know who could elicit insults that personal within such a short period.”
“Hey!” This time I startle Klint, so I whisper an apology and mentally tack on another dollar to his tip. Not that I can spare it now that I’m headed back to the nightmare motel. How they have the nerve to charge forty bucks a night for that hellhole is a mystery.
“You forget I know you too well. What did you say to tick him off?” I can just picture her perched on one of her kitchen stools shaking her teacher finger at me.
“I didn’t say anything! Jeez.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, fine. I pinched him. But in my defense, I didn’t really mean to.”
She gasps. “You punched him?!”
“I didn’t punch him. I pinched him. You really think I go around punching people in the face? It’s like we’ve never met.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m having a heck of a time figuring you out lately. Cut me some slack.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. I know she regrets her last words and probably thinks I’m going to hang up, but this is my fault. I’m the one who quit my job, broke up with my perfectly good boyfriend, and ditched town without a word to the people I love most in this world. This is the closest we’ve come to acknowledging the elephant in the room since shortly after I ditched them a few months ago. Jenna has been so careful when we chat—apart from the first few times when she tried to get me to talk and I told her I needed space. She doesn’t want to scare me away. But she deserves answers. I just wish I had the right ones to give.