As if my thoughts summoned her, Mama comes flying out of the house, arms out for a hug. Luckily for Justin, she slows before she reaches him.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right,” she says, eyes misty, hands looking for a place to settle. Like he’s made of glass. She finally decides on his face, cupping it between her palms and shaking his chin a little as she says, “I was so worried when they told me what happened, that boy slamming into you like that. I can’t imagine. If I’d been there…” She takes a breath and moves her hands to his shoulders. “How do you feel? Does your shoulder hurt? You want some cookies?”
I hide my laugh behind a smile. That’s Mama for you. Never lets you get a word in, but never leaves you guessing how much she cares. Cookies are her love language.
As I watch Justin stare back at my mom, pressure builds behind my eyes. Our childhoods were so vastly different. He didn’t get chocolate chip cookies when he fell and hurt himself. Didn’t have a parent coddle him when he was sick. I wonder if his parents even know he was injured. Or, if they do, if they worried about him at all.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grace,” he finally says, though his voice is husky. “Cookies sound amazing.”
Mama, the old softie, clamps her lips together as her eyes fill with tears. She nods, pats the side of his face, and gives a close-mouthed, trembling smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Justin watches her walk away, inhaling deeply through his nose. I both love and hate that his only real moments of parenting seem to come from my family. Did he have anyone filling that role since we broke up?
The screen door closes and he turns back to me.
“Let me go grab my binder,” I say cheerily… perhaps a little too cheerily.
He nods. “I’ll be waiting at the table.” He heads toward the large picnic table we have set up near the barn, and I dash inside for my schoolbag, trying desperately to hold onto my previous anger.
Three years is a long time to hold on to hurt. To convince yourself you hate someone, never want to see them again, wish they’d suffer a disgusting ailment. You’d think it would take a lot more than a few conversations over the course of a few weeks to make it all disappear. But that’s exactly what’s happened, because when I try and dredge up the old feelings of resentment and pain I’ve clung to over Justin, all that remains are smoldering embers of sadness.
What did Justin mean when he said there were things I didn’t know about that day? I knew plenty, witnessed it with my own eyes, and let my imagination fill in the rest. If you’d asked me a month ago, I’d have said I was content never learning specifics. But his words continue to poke me.
Would knowing the full truth really make a difference?
“Got it,” I announce when I appear back at the table, slightly out of breath and more confused than ever. I take a seat across from him and follow his gaze to the barrel course.
Justin motions toward it. “How’s it going?”
“Ah, well, it’s going,” I say before exhaling in frustration. “I got out there with Oakley last Saturday actually.” His eyes widen with curiosity and pride, and I douse it. “Couldn’t even make it past the first barrel.”
I open the binder to avoid the way Justin looks at me. Like he sees so much more than just my face or the expression I’m wearing, past my thoughts and into my beliefs. My fears. My truth. Chewing on my bottom lip, I thumb to the latest page of questions Coach gave us, grab a pen from the handy pouch I keep inside, and only then do I lift my gaze.
“It’ll come,” he says.
“I wish I could be as confident as you,” I reply with a small laugh.
“Then I’ll be confident enough for the both of us.” Justin smiles, another one of those real ones, and my breath catches in my throat. “You said you got hurt before. Do you mind me asking how?”
I hesitate. Justin has always been easy to talk to, and a big part of me wants to share all the details about what happened. I like that he isn’t automatically shutting me down, assuming I can’t do this. If he knows the truth, maybe the doubt will enter his eyes, too. Just like it does with Faith and Cade.
Another reason, of course, is the circumstances around the accident.
Best to keep it simple.