Page 76 of The Fate Factor

I sigh and tip my head back. “That’s what she always said. She used to brag that her life didn’t have to change much when I was born. She used to tell everyone what an easy kid I was, how even as a baby, I never cried. I think it was the other way around, though. I was easy because I had to be.”

“Why?”

“It’s just, she had me young, and she had a lot left to do, so we did it together. I guess there’s really only ever been space for one of us.”

Jamie nods, slowly pulling to a stop when we’re at the edge of the point. He wraps his arms around me, settling my backagainst his warm chest, and I sink into the comfort of it. “Maybe it works out for her this time,” he says quietly. “The van thing, and you get to have your turn.”

I soften my response with a laugh. “It literally never works out. Somehow she got in her head that the world is an oyster full of endless pearls. And when she realizes the particular one she’s chasing is plastic, she comes back.”

“Maybe it doesn’t work out for her then. But maybe it works out for you in the in-between. I know it’s hard to break dynamics like that, ones that were set when we were kids. Trust me, I’m pretty sure my brother still sees me as a delinquent teenager no matter how successful Fortune is. But your mom’s not here right now to take up that space, Noe. You’re holding it for her assuming she’ll need it back. I’m not saying that’s not a good assumption, just that right now, while it’s empty, you can fill it with whatever you want. If she comes back, well, you do what you have to do, but you do it from whereyouare.”

I let that advice wash over me, mix with the affection I have for the person giving it. Here, in Maine, has always been my space. That’s why I loved it here. A few months of in-between that I got to fill with what I wanted. That part hasn’t changed, I realize. I’ve been avoiding it for two years because I was afraid it wouldn’t be that for me anymore without Nana, but as soon as I came back, I found it waiting for me.

I foundhimwaiting for me.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… that was really wise.”

Jamie laughs awkwardly, and I tip my head to see his cheeks pink. “I don’t know about that.”

“No. It was. What you said about how your brother sees you. Why do you think that?”

He blows out a breath. “When I was younger, I had a really hard time in school. I wasn’t on meds yet. Adderall.”

“You have ADHD?”

“And dyscalculia.”

“What is it?”

“It’s like dyslexia but with numbers. I try to store a number in my head to, like, track how many beers I’ve poured of each kind, or keep score in a game, but they just…” He makes a fluttering motion by his temple. “Disappear.”

“That’s why you donate money to the children’s learning center,” I say, remembering the sign from his launch.

He shrugs. “I was in college when I got diagnosed. It would have been helpful to have something like that when I was younger.”

I look up at him, eyes wide. “College?”

“A professor of mine saw me writing numbers on my hand. It was an applied math class, so it was pretty mortifying. Turned out he had the same issue. Hooked me up with a counselor, and I took some tests. I got a prescription and a pamphlet.”

“Brewing,” I say. “It’s calculus though, isn’t it?”

He smirks. “I don’t do that in my head, Noel.” I push his shoulder with mine. “I’ve never had a problem with advanced math like that anyway. Quiz me on times tables though, and I’d better either have my phone out or a third grader nearby to cheat off of.”

He laughs, and I notice the small shake in it, the way his dimple only flashes instead of stays.

“You’re embarrassed by it,” I say, andwow,Noel. Way to stumble upon a wound and dig.

“I’m not,” he says firmly. Then, “Not the way I used to be. I’m more… eternally frustrated by it. When I was a kid, it was worse. My mom used to hide my homework from Wes’s dad, stuff it inher purse on the way home from school.Shewas embarrassed by it.”

Something flares in my chest, a protective urge. Jamie’s face inspires all sorts of adult thoughts, but it’s easy to imagine him as a kid when I look at his eyes. They spark and smile even when he’s frowning. His wild streak intimidates me sometimes, but right now he’s reminding me that Peter Pan was actually just a lost boy.

“Anyway, I made it harder than it had to be. In all of my teenage wisdom I chose to deal with it by fucking up harder at life than at school. I was so afraid people would think I was stupid, I let them think I was trouble instead. Turns out that was a harder reputation to shake.”

“Small city,” I say quietly.

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