Page 14 of Winging it with My Ex
Why did I do something so stupid? In the end, nothing I did saved my dad. I destroyed everything good I had, and now he’s just ashes sitting in a box waiting to be unpacked.
I force the thoughts away. The whole point of this drop-by is to get to know Hadley again. Vivi says if I want her forgiveness, I need to put in the effort. Visiting for no reason or cause is the best way to do that.
Hadley fills the glasses with ice, grabs a two-liter of pop out of the fridge, and ambles to the table. The ice clinks in the glass when she sets one in front of me before taking her seat across the table.
“How are your folks?” I ask as she begins to pour the pop into my glass.
“They’re good.” She smiles as she tops off my drink and begins filling her glass. “They bought an RV.”
My mouth falls slightly open. “Wow. I never thought they’d do that.” Her dad wasn’t big on traveling at all. He’d been born inthis city, and he always claimed he’d die in it. “How’d your mom convince him to go?”
She sets the two-liter down, chewing her lip. “He had a stroke a couple of years ago, and that kind of changed things for them. Life is short, and there were so many places he hadn’t seen.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Her head tilts. “How areyourparents?”
“Mom is living on Daniel’s Island in South Carolina, and Dad passed away about a year ago.”
The whole story is sitting on the end of my tongue, but even now, I just can’t force the words out. If only she knew how truly pathetic I am. Not only did I fail her, but I failed him too.
Suddenly, I’m questioning if I want to go through with this—because pretending feels harder than walking away.
nine
. . .
hadley
I didn’t meanto touch him. It just happened—instinct, maybe. His dad passed away, and suddenly, my hand was on his, offering something like comfort. “Oh, Jett, I’m so sorry. He was such a nice man.”
My thumb automatically rubs over his finger, and he winces, like he’s been shocked. “Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing,” he says.
It’s been fifteen years, but I know Jett. “Don’t lie to me.”
He blinks. “Right.” For some reason, that word is covering more than just what’s going on with his hand. His jaw flexes. “I got a splinter when I opened the gate.”
I stand. “I’ve got some tweezers in my bathroom. Let me take it out.”
“Nah, I’ll get it later.” He waves me off. The big baby.
“Jett Monroe, come on. Do you want it to get infected?”
His lips form a pout that is so cute, I want to just cross the distance, take his face in my hands, and kiss him. The image plays in full color, right down to the part where I pass out from the awesomeness of the kiss.
I hold in a foot stomp and refocus. He’s got a splinter, and I need to keep my imagination and my lips to myself.
He groans and stands, shuffling his feet as he follows me through the house to my bathroom. As I dig out the tweezers, he leans his hip against the counter and looks at his finger.
“How could something so small hurt so bad?” He hisses and shakes out his hand.
With tweezers in hand, I wave for him to give me his hand. After just a little work, I grab the end of the splinter with the tweezers and slide it out. It’s almost like one of those videos on MugBook where they pull out a splinter, and it’s the size of a house.
“Geesh,” he says. “No wonder it felt huge.”
I hold it up.
