Page 23 of A Surefire Love
Ms. Johanssen touched her forearm, drawing her attention back. “Those struggles can lead kids to feel like they don’t measure up or fit in, which can contribute to anxiety or depression. I’m not saying I see all this in Mercy, but the forgetfulness, sensitivity to correction, even the chattiness ….”
Sensitive. How many times had Blaze described Mercy that way? What if it stemmed from something more complexthan a personality quirk? And much of what Ms. Johanssen said applied not only to Mercy, but also to Blaze.
Not measuring up? Check.
The ability to focus on some things and not others? Check and check.
She raked her fingers through her hair. “So I’ve passed on one too many bad habits, huh?”
“Oh, no. Parenting doesn’t cause it. Mainly, it’s genetics.”
A ball tightened in Blaze’s chest. Was ADHD yet another curse from their parents? Their grandparents? Would she and Mercy ever be free of the negative impacts of their family line?
“Next!” The man in the food truck window shouted.
Grateful for the excuse to end the conversation, Blaze promised the teacher she’d look into it, then moved forward to place her order. Afterward, she avoided being pulled back into the conversation by busying herself with Melinda.
“Jennifer?”
She ignored the man’s voice as she lowered the girl back into the stroller and secured the safety belt.
“Jennifer.” The voice drew closer.
She turned and found herself face-to-face with Anson.
He studied her with his eyebrows drawn. “Your name is Jennifer?”
“Oh.” She looked down at Melinda. How many awkward conversations was she going to have before dinner? “Only when it needs to be.”
“How did I not know this?” His sneaker scuffed against the pavement. “We went to high school together. None of the teachers called you Jennifer.”
“We only had one class together.” Besides, in little ManyOaks, most of the teachers had known her nickname before she entered their classrooms.
“Chicken pita!”
“That’s my order.” Blaze pushed the stroller a step away, but Anson touched her arm. A shiver jolted her shoulder.
He lifted his hand, then stuffed it in his pocket. “How did a girl named Jennifer end up being Blaze?” Curiosity softened the steel blue of his eyes.
Why was he asking like this was a revelation? They’d met the first morning of her freshmen year. When a cute guy treated her kindly, she hoped high school would be a fresh start with different friends, better opportunities, and fewer obstacles. But when she’d said hello the second day, his lips barely twitched in a greeting. She’d assumed his friends had warned him off by filling him in on her history. All these years later, she could still taste the shame and disappointment.
“I’m sure you’ve heard. I really need to get going.” She stepped up to the window and claimed her food. She rested the pita on the stroller’s visor and fit her soda in a holder on the back.
Anson’s voice rumbled beside her. “You want me to rely on rumors?”
A scoff caught in her throat. “They’ve gotten you this far.”
He winced. “You’re right. I never should’ve listened to the stories. I’m sorry.”
She tangled her fingers in the ends of her hair, too shocked to reply.
Sydney bumped through the crowd and took Anson’s hand as she joined them. “Hey, Blaze. Who’s this?” She wiggled her fingers toward the stroller.
“Melinda. Amelia’s sister. I’m on kid duty for the night, soI should get going.” She steered the stroller around the couple, but she couldn’t help a look back.
Anson was watching her. She gave a little smile meant to say she forgave him. Still, she didn’t regret guarding her story. An apology didn’t prove she could trust him with the truth.
10
