Page 98 of Jaded

“Stop,” Olli says.

And as one, we all fucking stop. Me and Syd, Avery behind, like the word of Olli compels us. “We got one more little stretch before we reconnect with the main trail, and then we’re back at the parking lot.”

“Already over?” Avery asks. The hint of disappointment in his voice makes me smile. I can’t remember the last time I saw the kid show so much enthusiasm for something that wasn’t hockey.

My gaze trails down to his tennis shoes in the snow. I know what I’ll be getting him for Christmas.

“One last deep breath,” Olli says. “Before we go back to city smog.”

We all four breathe as one.

Too soon, we’re walking again, following Olli back onto the main trail, down the path, into the parking lot. Olli’s truck sits next to my Chevy, glinting silver in the bright sunlight. A beacon of light, just like its owner.

Our pace slows. Maybe we’re reluctant to part ways, to admit the adventure’s come to an end. To return to reality.

What will happen then? Will I awaken from the past few days, from him, as one wakes from a dream . . . the feeling slowly slipping out of reach?

It’s only after Syd, Avery, and I squeeze into the front bench and I pull the tow truck out onto the road that Avery speaks. “He’s super weird. You should hang out with him more.”

I choke on a laugh. “Why’s that?”

“I dunno.” Avery spins his baseball cap around to the front, then removes it to straighten his hair. “You seem less grumpy or something.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Syd beats me to it. “He’s kinda right.”

“Maybe it’s just being outside,” I suggest, because that’s a much more logical explanation. Right? “The outdoors are good for you.”

“You already seem grumpier again.” Avery plops his hat back on, forwards, so he can tilt his head against the seat. “The outdoors must wear off fast.”

I’m torn between laughing and scoffing, and instead settle on, “I do not.”

“Yep.” Avery points, grinning. “There it is. Old Grumpy Nat is back.”

“No.”

“Oh, speaking of grumpy,” says Syd. “Brenda invited us to dinner. Who’s in?”

I take the turn onto Brenda’s street on barely two wheels. “Shit, yes, I will be there.”

Avery laughs as my foot nudges the accelerator into definite speeding territory. But he understands. There’s nothing like a Brenda meal to get everything looking straight again.

I pull the truck into the driveway of Brenda’s condo, and Avery and Syd tumble out almost before it’s come to a stop.

I’m slower to follow. The minute I walk through that door, Brenda’ll know something’s up, and she’ll demand that I tell her.

It’s what I need, isn’t it? To spill my guts to my stepmom, lay it all on the ground so we might sort through the spoils, make some sense of it.

It’s the last fucking thing I want to do—tear myself open so Brenda can sew me shut. Like setting a broken bone, the path to healing is more painful than the wound.

But I follow Avery and Syd into the cheer and warmth of Brenda’s townhouse anyway. Avery and Syd already perch at the dining table, hunched over something on Avery’s phone, so I head into the kitchen.

“Hey, Brenda.”

“Hello to you too, Bruiser.” She doesn’t turn from her position against the far wall, where she’s whisking something on the stove.

A soft tendril of fondness unweaves the tension in my chest as I amble over to rest my elbows on the counter beside Brenda. “Whatcha cooking?”

“Something’s bothering you, so you might as well just tell me what it is.” Shit, she’s good. Still hasn’t even looked at me.

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