mother, she struggled with depression and drug addiction, and the combination was fatal. It’s rare Jesse and I talk these days other than a few holiday texts when the season comes around. I’m not sad about it, maybe just disappointed. I think I remind him of Hanna, so I can’t really blame him for keeping his distance.
“I don’t speak much to Jesse.”
He simply nods, leaning against the podium. “So, you’re graduating this semester?”
“Yep.” My lips pop with the p.
I’m tempted to ask about his life now—if he has a wife, a family, maybe a kid or two. I never heard him talk about that sort of stuff much when I was younger, but they were probably too young to care about those kinds of futures then anyway. Still, thinking of little Carters running around makes me curious.
But before I can open my mouth to say anything, the back doors open signaling other classmates arriving. Pressing my lips together, I sink into my seat and focus on the random doodles outlining my notebook paper. He greets everyone as they trickle in, not looking at me again the rest of the period.
When I get home sometime later with Ainsley in tow, she runs over to her toys and ignores the backpack, coat, and boots she drops on the floor along the way. Too tired to scold her, I just shake my head and tidy up before heading into the kitchen.
I freeze when I see Easton sitting at the counter with a piece of pizza in one hand and the newspaper in his other. It’s always strange seeing him so content reading the news or doing the crossword puzzle on the weekends.
“You’re home early,” I say slowly, setting Ainsley’s backpack and lunch pail down on the counter across from him.
He puts the paper down, finishing off the last of his cold pizza before brushing crumbs from his fingers. “We changed store hours around. We’re closed on Thursdays now.”
I make a face as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why not just take Mondays off like most businesses? Aren’t Thursdays usually busier?” Pulling out the only other stool opposite of him, I take a seat.
“That’s why we’re open,” he remarks, eyebrow arching as if I’m stupid for even mentioning it. “No competition.”
My lips part, then close. He’s got me there. I’m the type to like two days off in a row, though right now my weekends are full of homework and homework grading on top of tending to Ainsley. Thankfully, she doesn’t make it too hard for me. Most days.
“Classes okay?” he asks, folding the paper up and leaning back.
Lately, his inquiries have taken me by surprise. It’s not like he’s never cared about my life, he’s just rarely asked more than he’s had to. Then again, I’ve never offered up anything I wasn’t willing to. Even though I have Jenna to rant to on bad days, sometimes it’s nice to have someone else who isn’t bias.
When I told Jenna about Carter, she told me she knew a guy who knew a guy—as if putting a hit on him solved anything. It made me laugh at least, especially when she said the guy she knew was her eighth grade Earth Science teacher.
“Okay … enough.”
His brows just raise.
My shoulders lower as I lean forward and rest my elbows on the edge of the countertop. “I ran into someone I knew from a long time ago. It was rough.”
His features darken. “Ex?”
My eyes widen. I manage to laugh. “Uh, no. Definitely not. I mean, I had a huge crush on him for a long time, but he was my brother’s friend. And…” And Danny’s. “He was friends with Ainsley’s father. With Danny. We all grew up together and he did something I’ve had trouble forgiving.”
He studies me for a long moment before pushing off the stool and walking over to the fridge. “What did he do that’s so bad?” Pulling out the casserole, he grabs two plates from the side cabinet and begins putting a healthy serving on each. Knowing he doesn’t eat meat, I watch him carefully as he puts one in the microwave.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”
Turning, his lower back leans on the counter as the microwave counts down. “If you’re that upset about it, it obviously does.”
“He didn’t go to the funeral.”
Easton remains silent.
“They were friends,” I point out. “If your friend died, wouldn’t you go to the funeral? It was rude of