Chapter 28

Jack had only laughed when I told him I had to go stock up on ammunition and get ready for Ranée, but I hadn’t been kidding. I ran down to the corner liquor store to load up on candy. When Ranée charged through our front door a half hour later, I was waiting for her with three king-sized Snickers bars in front of me on the coffee table.

“What is wrong with you?” She slammed the door behind her.

I studied her closely and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“What am I thanking you for? Humiliating me?”

“Honey, you have scruff burn and your lipstick is all gone. You have been kissed.”

She glared at me for another second then sighed and plopped into an armchair. “Give me sugar.”

“Didn’t Paul already do that?”

“Emily, so help me…”

I threw her a Snickers. “I don’t know why you’re mad. You look like you had an excellent time in the barn.”

“I can’t believe you texted him. That was the single most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“But then it was good?”

Finally, a grin broke through. “You were not lying about his skills.”

“I demand details.”

She wrinkled her nose at me.

“Not about the kissing! Tell me about how it got to that point.”

“I walked into the barn. He wouldn’t look at me, which is weird, because we have this energy that’s hard to explain where it’s like we’re uncomfortably aware of each other but we’re pretending like we aren’t, and even with all of that, it’s just easy to talk. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and if he did, he blushed. Like actually turned pink.”

I grinned, imagining what must have been going through Paul’s mind after getting my text and then coming face-to-face with Ranée.

“We normally work with the same three kids, but he volunteered to work with the kid the program director normally helps so that she could go catch up on some paperwork or something. And then he basically avoided me the whole night.”

“Oh, Paul, you idiot.”

“Paul nothing. That was your fault.”

“Get to the good part. How did you get from that to this?” I waved at her beard rash and slightly puffy lips.

“We’re supposed to supervise the kids while they brush the horses at the end of the night, but Paul said he wanted to take his horse—well, the one he rides the most—around the trail once, so he told his kids they could leave. I told my kids they could go too because I also wanted to ride. I wanted them out of there so I could ask him if something was wrong. I was having a mini panic attack, thinking maybe one of us had butt-dialed him while we were talking earlier, and he’d heard the whole conversation.”

She was flustered. Ranée didn’t get flustered. It was an adorable look for her.

“Get to the good stuff,” I prompted her.

“I didn’t really want to ride, so I started taking off Gert’s saddle. She’s the horse.”

“I assumed.”

“And he steps into the stall and says, ‘I thought you wanted to ride.’”

I hooted. I couldn’t help it.

She threw a pillow at me. I batted it to the floor. “Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“Anyway, I say no, that I just want to feed and water the horse in peace and quiet after a long week. Then I ask him why he isn’t riding.” She took a deep breath, and I leaned forward. This was about to get good. “Then he holds up his phone and says you texted him. And that’s when I knew I would kill you.”

“Did he even tell you what the text said?”

“No! It didn’t matter. There was not one thing you could have texted that I would have been okay with.” She picked at her jeans for a second. “What did you say?”

“Like you said, doesn’t matter. Here you are, all kissed and stuff. Fill in the blank after he said I texted him.”

“So he says you texted him, and I say, ‘oh, interesting,’ like an idiot because I can’t think of what else to say. Then he reaches over and takes the brush out of my hands and goes, ‘It really was,’ all kind of, um, sexy-like.”

My eyebrow went up. “Wow. Paul has developed moves. Good job, Paul.”

“That’s the thing. He hasn’t. He just said it quietly. Then he tosses the brush out of the way, and I’m standing there frozen, and he slides his hand around my neck and now I know what’s up, and then he gets even quieter but he gives me this look like, ‘Is this okay?’ and I think I gulped.” She got up and grabbed the pillow from the floor and hit me with it. “I gulped! Like a fish! I hate you.”

I snatched the pillow from her and hit her back. “You’re ruining the story. Tell me what happened next.”

“What happened next is that he took that gulp as a yes and he was dead right and then he kissed me.” She flopped back in her chair and closed her eyes, a small smile playing around her puffy lips.

“And?”

“And you’re an idiot for breaking up with him.”

“Hashtag no regrets.”

She opened her eyes and straightened in her seat. “I heard you say that you don’t care, and now I’m looking at you, and you truly don’t seem like you care.”

“Because I don’t care. I mean, I care that you had a nice time rolling in the hay.”

“I didn’t roll in the hay. Shut up.”

“Seriously. It’s all good. If he’s a good fit for you, then you have my blessing.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t feel okay about this if I didn’t.”

“But you do, so how do you feel?”

“I feel good.” She touched her lips, almost subconsciously, and I smothered a smile. She dropped her hand. “And also like I’m tired of talking about me. What did you do tonight?”

“Well…I talked to Jack.”

“You called him? Yes!”

“Actually, no. He texted and wanted to FaceTime.”

“Ooh, about what? Tell me everything.”

“Not much to tell. We have ground rules now. We’re just going to be friends, but this time there are no dumb restrictions on conversation. Except we agreed that neither of us wants to hear much about each other’s dates. Other than that, we can have all the small talk we want. And real talk.”

“Are you planning to date people?”

“If something comes up, I guess. But I haven’t checked my app in a while. Maybe if I get bored or something.” A funny expression flickered across her face. I couldn’t quite decipher it. “What?”

“Did Jack say he wasn’t going to talk about the people he dates either?”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t date anyone.”

“Is that what Sean says? Do they see each other often enough for Sean to know?” I knew it sounded like I was arguing that Jack was probably dating regularly. But I wanted Ranée to prove me wrong.

She gave me a long look, like she wasn’t fooled at all. “Sean works at the clinic as a nurse sometimes on his days off from doing guide stuff. He’s in there at least once a week. They talk. He says Jack doesn’t date. Not many options there, I guess, and if there were, he still doesn’t think Jack would be into it.”

“So he’s living not just as a hermit but as a celibate hermit in his mountain cabin?”

She shrugged. “Basically. Sean has been worried about him for a while.”

“Sean seems really into Jack’s business.”

“If it were me, wouldn’t you be? Or was that someone else who texted my stable partner tonight?”

“Point taken.”

She shrugged. “It’s an interesting friendship. He says he and Jack lost enough patients together that it was like being in the trenches or something. I think they had a particularly bad case and lost a patient, and Sean quit. Pediatrics was too intense for him. I think he’ll eventually get bored of playing mountain man and go back to nursing. That’s why he likes helping Jack at the clinic. He says the patients are a lot more fixable.”

A small pit opened in my stomach thinking about what it meant that pediatric cancer patients hadn’t been as fixable. My mind didn’t even want to wander down that path. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Sean and Jack to live in that world, fighting losing battles day after day.

“Is he worried about Jack or just wanting to hook him up?”

She sighed. “He’s worried. Sean is snapping out of it. He’s getting restless. I don’t think it’ll be long before he’s back in Portland or somewhere else in nursing full-time. But I don’t think he’s going to do pediatrics again. Jack…I don’t know. Sean thought it would be so good for him to be outdoors more, reconnecting with the basics. Like unofficial therapy. And he says Jack is happy when he’s outdoors, but that he’s still not connecting with other people. Not even with his patients as much. And definitely not on dates.”

“Okay. So Jack’s not dating. Should I worry about that?”

“I’m saying…I don’t know. Be gentle with him, I guess.”

“There’s nothing to worry about here. We’re being honest about what this relationship is, which is platonic. We’re not going to date, so no flirting in our conversations.”

“Whose idea was it that you guys shouldn’t talk about the other dates you go on?”

“His.”

“That doesn’t sound like a guy who doesn’t care.”

“I wouldn’t like hearing about his other dates either. Not right now. But as we get into this friend groove, I think it won’t be such a big deal. You make him sound like he has no idea how to handle women, and I’m liable to crush him or something.”

“That’s definitely not it.” She shook her head. “He’s not shy or inexperienced or whatever. I think he’s had plenty of relationships. I just worry he’s in a tough place right now.”

“He was closed off before, and now he’s open to talking about everything he didn’t want to talk about. That sounds like progress to me.”

She was only half-listening, running her fingers along her lips again. It was adorable. “What? Oh, right. Good point.” She smiled. “Good, then. I like Jack. It’s nice to think he’s coming out of it.”

I’d met Sean a few times when he came to visit Ranée, and he hadn’t struck me as an over worrier then, but now I wondered. He almost acted more like Jack’s mom than his friend. It must be those same nurturing instincts that had drawn him to nursing in the first place. I wondered how Jack felt about all the hovering. I’d have to ask him the next time we talked.

The next time we talked. I let that phrase sink in and enjoyed the shape of it for a minute. There would be a next time. Jack and I could talk whenever we wanted, about whatever we wanted. There would be no coy games over whose turn it was to call or text.

“You know what’s great about this new balance Jack and I have now?”

“Tell me,” Ranée said.

“I can text him as often as I text you without worrying about how he’ll take it. We’re friends now. Frequency of texts and calls don’t mean anything, any more than it does when you and I text. Or don’t.”

“Speak for yourself. I pine for you when I don’t hear from you often enough.”

“Shut up. You don’t. He won’t. I won’t. It’s perfect.”

“Glad you’re happy.” Then she rose and drifted off to her room, a jellyfish of twitterpation.

Well, well, well. File that under “Stuff I Wouldn’t Have Predicted in a Million Years.”