“Right.”
“And maybe I’m wrong, but I always got the impression he was a good one.” She lets the comment hang in the air for a second like a question, but I don’t bite. “You always spoke about him as someone kind, caring, loyal. Someone who you could depend on. I mean, didn’t this all start when he bailed you out of that jail cell and kept it a secret from Kyle?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, slow threads of regret starting to wind themselves into my brain.
“So maybe it’s not Nate the ‘Bad Boy’ womanizer that you should be thinking of. Maybe it’s Nate the lifetime friend. Maybe that’s the guy who wants to make good by you. And the way I see it, that Nate deserves a second chance.”
I give Lorelei a tortured smile, and then look away. Lorelei has a habit of giving you stuff to think about right when you feel you’ve just got it all figured out.
My phone rings, and we both get up.
“I need a drink,” she says, moving toward the kitchen. “You want anything? A water?”
“No,” I say, going over to the desk. “I’m good.”
I pick up the phone and see the name. Nate. I let my finger hover over the screen, unsure of what to do.
“It’s Nate, isn’t it?” Lorelei says, almost making me jump when I see she isn’t in the kitchen. I look at her and nod. “Talk to him. He deserves that at least, for what he did,” she says, nodding at the computer screen.
I let my shoulders drop, and when Lorelei sees that she’s twisted my arm, she disappears into the kitchen. I answer the phone and bring it to my ear. “Hey.”
“Jessie?”
I pause a moment, lips parted but unable to say anything.
“Hi, Nate.”
“Fuck.”
“What?”
I hear Nate laugh a little embarrassedly. “Nothing. It’s just…it’s been a while since I heard your voice.”
I smile involuntarily.
“Listen, Jessie,” he continues, sounding like a man anxiously trying to stay calm, “I don’t want to argue, or fight, or anything like that. I just want to clear the air. I mean, it’s all up to you. I understand everything.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, sounding aloof and distant, though it’s only because I can’t think of what to say.
“I just have to tell you one more thing. In person. Would you give me that?”
I let out a long breath.
“Okay. Where do you want to meet?”
25
Nate
I pace up and down the sidewalk in front of Jessie’s childhood home, blood thumping in my ears, adrenaline flowing, stopping and staring at any car that looks even remotely similar to Jessie’s like a boxer waiting for the bell. This is it. This is the last roll of the dice. Since I knew how I felt I kept telling myself how much I’d give for Jessie – and right now I’m about to give it all.
Her car appears on the horizon, a dot, but I’ve been looking so hard I can almost sense it’s hers. I roll my neck and tense my shoulders – show time. The car rolls up in front of the house and comes to a stop. I watch her exit, and it’s almost surreal to see how beautiful she is in person now, after so long just remembering it.
She slams the door shut and walks up to me.
“You look great,” I say, when she’s in front of me, her head tilted away from the sun.
“Thanks. You look…” she stops, hesitates. “Like it’s healing.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, bringing my fingers up to the fading bruise on my eye. “Well, I can still see out of it. I guess Kyle went easy on me.”
Jessie nods, too tense to laugh. She looks around with a tight, forced smile on her face, as if trying to break the awkward atmosphere between us.
“Why are we meeting here? It’s not exactly neutral territory.”
As if remembering the reason myself, I quickly go to my back pocket and pull out the envelope, then hold it out to her.
“Here.”
She looks at it dubiously, then takes it slowly.
“What’s this?”
I try to swallow and realize how dry my throat it.
“The house.”
Jessie’s frown deepens.
“What do you mean?”
I tap the envelope in her hand.
“I bought the house. For you. It’s yours now.”
“What?” Jessie says, leaning forward and making it sound like a gasp as she does so.
“I mean it needs work, but I figured you’d want to decide on how to rebuild it. But I’ve got contractors ready, and a deposit, so it’s up to you. Whenever you have the time to start.”
“Nate. No,” she says, in her most commanding voice. She slams the envelope up against my chest and holds it there. “I can’t take this.”
Slowly, I take the hand she’s pushing up against my chest and push it back to her, holding the envelope there.
“I can’t let you not take it.”
We stand there, eyes fixed on each other, my hand on hers, the envelope in between. Neither of us sure what to say, or what to do.
“This is too much,” Jessie says, taking the envelope and shaking her head at it.
“It’s no more than you wanted. No more than I ought to give you.”