Good With His Hands (Good in Bed #1)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,59

closet, and we’d have snuggled up on the grass under the stars and whispered and giggled our way through the entire movie.

That’s who Claire was.

She was the leader.

I was the follower. A happy follower, but a follower, nonetheless. If I’d been here alone for some reason, I would have stayed in my room.

I would have been worried about being the only solo adult. Been more concerned about curious glances or pitying looks than enjoying myself.

Than doing what I wanted to do.

Or at least, I would have before the list.

Things are different now. I’m different.

I’d smuggle Chardonnay and watch a flick under the stars.

I’d do it alone.

I’d do it because of the list.

Because it did everything it was supposed to do—it brought me back, better than I was before.

The list made me possible.

The me I didn’t know I wanted to be. But the me I . . .

The me I love.

I turn back to Jesse, still hunched in his chair. “You’re probably right,” I say softly. “But that wasn’t your call to make, Jesse. None of it was. It was Claire’s call. And mine.”

He stands but doesn’t move any closer. The sorrow in his eyes, the resignation in the set of his jaw—they say he’s not going to argue on this count. “You’re right. I was just trying to do what was best for you.”

I huff. “But that’s not your job. I’m not a child. I don’t need or want other people making decisions for me.”

Jesse’s brows pinch together. “But isn’t that what the list is, in a way? Claire telling you what to do? What you need to be happy?”

I shake my head. The list has given me whiplash at times, but in a surprisingly good way. “No. She presented me with an opportunity. What I did with that opportunity was up to me. Or it should have been.” I take a beat, letting my thoughts take shape fully. “I understand that you were trying to be protective and kind, but . . .” I swallow. “Do you know how often I’ve wondered what was going through her head after the crash? Wondered what she was thinking when I was lying there unconscious and she was awake and not sure if I was going to make it?” My voice falters, tripping over itself.

“I told you, she couldn’t stop talking about you,” he says, just as wobbly. “She—”

“It’s not the same,” I cut in. “It’s just . . . not. You’re right—I probably wouldn’t have felt up to tackling that list, not for a long time, but having it with me . . . being able to put it up on my fridge and look at it every day when I went to get cream for my coffee . . . when I went to physical therapy . . . when I was still struggling to get around Brooklyn in a wheelchair. It might have made a difference then. Back when I was empty and lost.” Tears slip down my face.

“I’m so sorry, Ruby.” He starts toward me, but I hold up a hand and he stops mid-step.

“I know you are, and . . . I’m not mad, not really.” I pull in a deeper breath, swiping the tears away, and I square my shoulders. “I’m just sad. And disappointed. And . . .”

And what?

24

Ruby

But as soon as I ask the question, the answer comes.

Determined is the word on the tip of my tongue.

I am determined.

Determined not to let this new grief break me. To stay the course. Claire set this in motion, Jesse helped me get started, but this journey is mine to finish. And I have to do that on my own.

I’m okay with it.

Truly, I am.

Just like I was sure I could go to the movie alone, now I can finish the list by myself.

That’s what I need to do.

“I think I should go,” I finally say with that determination. With strength. “The ferry runs until midnight, right? If you can give me a ride from there back into the town we passed a few miles back, I can catch a train to New York. I saw an Amtrak stop.”

He shakes his head. “Please, Ruby, don’t. Can’t we work through this?”

My lips curve up a little. “Of course we can. And we will, but I have work to do first. I need some time, Jesse. To think. To feel. To . . . deal with my shit because it’s mine to deal with.” His eyes well with sadness,