Page 64 of Someone to Have
She quickly flips the notebook on the table closed. “They encourage us to do arts and crafts. It’s nothing really.”
“Can I see?” Rhett asks.
Jen blinks, obviously surprised by his interest, but then smiles again.
“It’s nothing special, especially the beginning drawings. My hands are steadier now.” She glances up at me, her gaze apologetic. “I’m steadier now,” she clarifies.
Rhett sits at the table and pulls the notebook closer, flipping through the pages as I unload the cartons of food from the brown bag.
“You’re good at animals,” he says, tracing a finger over a drawing of two deer—a doe and her baby with white spots on its brown fur. “These look like the pictures you used to draw on the napkins you put in my lunchbox when I was a kid.”
You’re still a kid, I want to tell him. My sister’s eyes close for a brief moment before she answers him. I have a feeling she’s thinking the same thing.
She breathes out slowly. “I liked drawing with you before you thought it wasn’t cool to sit and color with your mom.”
He rolls his eyes. “I can only do stick figures. I’m not good at it like you.”
She sucks in a breath at this compliment, freely given, and so at odds with the anger and flippant responses he’s had lately. Once again, I wish I’d been more involved in their lives over the years. That I hadn’t cut myself off because I didn’t feel like I had anything to offer either of them. Maybe I could have made a difference.
“Your mom was always an artist,” I tell him, dishing out food and placing paper plates in front of each of them. “She won awards and everything.”
Jen’s smile is wistful. “I was a big deal with meaningless ribbons in middle school,” she says. “They gave those to everybody.”
“They didn’t give any to me,” Rhett counters. “You’re legit talented.”
She looks between us, her eyes widening slightly. Multiplecompliments from the teen terror? Maybe I’m not as bad at this guardian thing as we both thought I would be. At least I’m not making it worse.
“Maybe, but you inherited your uncle’s ability on the ice.” She dips a spring roll in the peanut sauce, arching her brow in my direction. “You might even be more talented.”
Rhett scoffs, but I nod. “Definitely better skate skills.”
He looks down at his plate of noodles as he asks, “Do you think so?”
“Dude, I’ve seen you on the ice.” I grab my phone from my jacket pocket. “Taylor had the team mom take videos of you yesterday while we were taking care of Hudson.”
“Who’s Hudson?” Jen asks with a frown, then hits play on the video, muting the sound. “Who’s Taylor?”
“Taylor is Toby’s little sister,” I explain. Jen knows we’re in Skylark because of my connection to the Maxwell family. “She’s tutoring Rhett to keep his grades up so he stays eligible for hockey season. Her apartment is across the hall from ours.”
“Eric likes feeding her,” Rhett adds.
Jen studies me as she chews a bite of spring roll. “Leftovers,” I clarify. “She’s a librarian. Quiet. Sweet. Not my type.”
“She’s helping me with reading,” Rhett says. “Hudson is the team captain but tore his ACL in yesterday’s game. Sucks for him, but it means I’m going to get varsity play time. If we get to the playoffs, you’ll be out of here and could...” He shrugs. “I mean, we probably won’t make it. The team isn’t great.”
“I’d love to come to one of your games. Any of your games,” she says, ruffling his hair. She glances at the video on my phone. “You look good, Rhetter.”
“Like I said, the team is mainly just Hudson. I look good compared to guys who suck.”
“You’re good because you worked hard,” I say, then take my phone back from her.
Jen leans in closer to her son. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I had a sleepover last night.”
“Coach Toby approved the kid,” I add quickly. “His mom is the team parent and?—”
“You’re making friends.” Jen inhales slowly as she nods at Rhett. I can see her working to process this change in her son and what it means—what having a stable life has done for him already. “That’s great.”
