Page 38 of Touch the Sky
“My dad…left.”
I wait for her to add more, but that’s all she offers: just hollow resignation and a single word.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
She shrugs. “It is what it is. We’re better off without him.”
She flinches and then gives me a guilty look.
“Not saying Shel shouldn’t see her dad of course,” she adds. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know you didn’t.”
I catch her eyes, holding her gaze for long enough my heart begins to pound.
Maybe I could learn to handle the rest of her, but those eyes are going to be a serious problem.
“So, seems like we’re both losers without girlfriends, huh?” Jacinthe says.
I nod. “Yeah, seems like it.”
She rests her elbows on the table and props her chin on her hands.
“It’s nice that you, you know, get it,” she tells me. “Maddie is always asking me why I don’t just go on some dates and telling me I’m never going to have time unless I make time, but when you’re the one who takes care of somebody, it’s…different. It’s not about you anymore, you know? And all that ‘you deserve to be happy too’ stuff, it’s just…it’s hard to talk about it with people who don’t get it.”
My heart lurches at the sound of some of my most private thoughts echoed back to me from someone else’s mouth.
She’s right. Other people don’t get it. I lost touch with almost all my friends when Shel was born. It was like they were waiting for me to bounce back to being who I always was, with maybe the occasional addition of a baby on my hip. They couldn’t grasp how much such a vast responsibility changes you, how it rips the very sky above your head to pieces and then stitches it back together as something new.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “It is hard.”
Jacinthe reaches across the table. My mouth drops open as I wonder if she’s about to squeeze my hand, but instead, she snatches my empty glass.
“Can I buy you another drink?”
I’m about to protest her paying again when she adds, “To say sorry for my haunting smile?”
She does an exaggerated version of her creepy grin from earlier. She looks so ghoulish I can’t stop myself from laughing.
“Okay, fine,” I give in. “Maybe more alcohol will stave off the nightmares.”
She chuckles as she gets to her feet. With both our glasses tucked under one arm, she heads back over to the bar.
I stare at the back of her hoodie as she goes.
Maybe it could be like this. Maybe the two of us could sit out on the porch at night and shoot the shit sometimes. Maybe we could laugh at things that aren’t supposed to be funny and admit some things the rest of the world makes it hard to say. Maybe we could even be friends, or at least friendly acquaintances who share a house.
Maybe this could work.
Chapter 9
Jacinthe
The sky has faded from tulip pink to buttery yellow as the sunrise slips into morning. I stand waving goodbye with one hand and using the other to cover up a yawn while the tourists pile into their cars.
“Merci, everyone!” I call out. “Hope you had fun!”
My throat is screaming for coffee, and my sleep-deprived body is demanding to know why I ever thought offering a ‘Sunrise Special’ to Balsam Inn guests who book on for a trail ride at La Grange Rouge was a good idea. I’m used to getting up at the crack of dawn to do my morning barn chores, but I’ve never had to handle customer service this early in the morning.
