“I kind of shoved my ice cream in his pants. I just grabbed his waistband and shoved it right down there. I think he thought I was going for his dick, but whatever.” She shrugs.
I turn the water off and reach my arm out, because I know she’ll be there with a towel. I feel it hit my hand and pull it into the shower with me. “I’m proud of you,” I say.
She grins when I step out of the shower. I love it when Jack’s happy. It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does, it’s so worth taking the time to enjoy it.
I shoo Jack out of my room and get dressed in some khaki shorts and a polo shirt, and I shake my head instead of brushing my hair. It works for me. I put on some flip-flops and press a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “You going to hang out here?”
She nods. “For a while.”
She looks at Malone, who is busy ignoring her on the couch. She shrugs at me. She’ll wait him out, and then they’ll talk. It’s how they work it out.
“Have fun tonight,” she calls. I wave at her and let myself out.
It’s a short walk to Carrie’s beach house.
I knock on the door, but no one comes to greet me. The back door is locked, and I know I could use my key, but I don’t want to walk in on her in her underwear again—
Scratch that. I want to see her in her underwear. I just don’t want to surprise her. I run around to the beach side and stop short when I see her sitting on the deck with the douchebag.
She jumps to her feet. “Nick,” she says, like she’s surprised to see me.
“Carrie,” I say. I nod to the douche. “Dale. Heard you got your nuts frozen off today,” I toss out. I step up beside Carrie onto the deck and take her hand in mine. She startles for a second, but she lets me tangle my fingers up in hers.
“Jackie has a big mouth,” Dale says. Then he grins. “But we already know how big everything she’s got is, don’t we?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he challenges me.
I’m not going to answer that, so I tug on Carrie’s fingers and say, “Are you ready to go?”
She nods. But she’s looking curiously at me. And then at Dale. “It was nice to meet you,” she says.
“I’ll see you around,” he says, but he looks at me instead of her. He gets up and skips down the steps toward his own house.
“Is your mom here?” I ask.
She nods. “She came home a little while ago, but she wasn’t feeling well so she went to lie down.”
“I wanted to say hi.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” she prompts.
I wait a beat, and then I ask. “Is she going to be okay?”
She shakes her head. “No.” She finally meets my gaze. “She’s dying.” She looks away. “Can we talk about something else?”
I look out toward the ocean, because it has always been a peaceful place for me. I take a breath and try to move past the feeling I have. “I was thinking we could walk down to the pier and eat at the restaurant there.”
“Sounds great.”“Do you need to tell your mom you’re leaving?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t need to check in with Patty about anything.”
We walk down the steps until we reach the sand, and she stops to slip her shoes off and hooks them in the fingertips of her free hand.
“Why do you call her Patty?”
Her jaw ticks. “I don’t want to talk about my mom.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“Are you going to college?” she asks.
“No, college isn’t for me. I have too much to do here.”
She bends over and picks up a pretty shell, turning it over in her hand. She holds it up. “Look, it’s the color of the sky,” she says and then she slips it into her pocket. She smiles at me, and I swear it nearly knocks me off my feet.
She’s wearing a pretty, flirty little dress that blows around her knees in the wind. It’s soft and wispy, and so is her hair. I reach up and tug a piece free that’s stuck to her lips.
“Are you going to college?” I ask.
She nods and skips ahead of me to pick up a piece of sea glass. “UNC Charlotte.”
“Staying close to home, huh?” I ask.
She nods. “I don’t want to leave my dad all alone.”
“He didn’t come this year, did he?”
“No, they’re divorced.”
“Carrie,” I say softly, “why don’t you talk about your mom?”
She shrugs. “She’s not my mom anymore. She’s just that woman who left.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She left. And she never came back. She never came to see me, or had me visit her. She just left. She took off with her boyfriend and she vanished. She completely forgot me. So, now that she’s dying, she wants to rebuild what she tore down. I’m just not interested. Not at all.”
“But she’s dying,” I say quietly.
“That doesn’t change anything,” she says stubbornly.
But it does. It changes everything. Absolutely everything.
Carrie
That was the worst date in the history of dates. Nick was quiet at dinner, and I tried to talk to him about all the things I’d normally talk about with a guy—school, friends, social events—but he didn’t act like he was enjoying our discussion. I don’t think he enjoyed our date at all. In fact, I think he’d rather have been strung up by his toenails from the clothesline and beaten.