A Thousand Letters(39)

More blinking. "That's sweet, Jack, but—"

He sucked in a breath. "I'm about to get shot down, aren't I?"

My cheeks were warm, and I opened my mouth to speak, but he saw me coming and headed me off.

"How about we don't label it? Let's just hang out, grab some lunch, and pick up what you need. Everything else will sort itself out. What do you say?"

He looked so hopeful, so sweet that I couldn't say no. Instead, I smiled and gave him the only answer I could.

"Deal."



* * *



The day went by quickly, full of easy conversation. I'd always liked Jack but had never really thought about him in the way he seemed to be thinking about me. I wasn't sure I was thinking about him that way now, but he was so charming. So easy.

But as we walked from store to store, from café to coffee shop, I tried to consider him, tried to think about what it would be like to date him. It wasn't hard to imagine; he insisted on buying my lunch, guided me through doors with his hand on the small of my back, smiled at me like I was the only girl in the world. But that consideration kept bringing me back to Wade, and the comparison of the two left me in a lurch. Wade could walk into a room and command my heart and soul without speaking a word. I'd been around Jack a hundred times, and now for an afternoon where he touched me and smiled at me, and still I hadn't found myself with feelings for him other than the fondness of a friend.

At one point in the afternoon, I found myself frustrated, wondering why I couldn't just go for him. On paper, he was perfect: a successful entrepreneur, charmer, and overall beautiful man. In my heart, he was lacking; there was no spark, nothing to inspire my feelings for him to grow.

Maybe Wade had broken me more than I'd even known. Maybe I wasn't capable of love.

Even with my mind drifting, we spent an amiable day together, finding everything we needed. Jack wouldn't let me buy anything from the camping store and paid for it himself, insisting that he'd use it that spring. And by the time we were finished there, it was nearly time to pick up the kids.

We weren't far from the school, and Jack was in the middle of a story that had me laughing up at him. When I turned to look ahead of me, I slowed, stumbling a little.

Wade stood in front of us, hands deep in the pockets of his wool coat, collar flipped and brow low. He looked angry, angry and hurt and silent as stone.

"W-Wade," I stammered, my cheeks flushing as we approached him.

He nodded, jaw flexing as his cool eyes landed on Jack.

"We, ah, we were just shopping for tomorrow night," I offered, feeling strangely ashamed, as if I'd been caught, as if I owed him an explanation.

"Same thing," he said, two gruff words. "Had to pick up a few things."

He watched me with the weight of a thousand years, and no one spoke for a long moment.

Jack smiled amiably and extended a hand. "How's it going? I'm Jack."

Wade took his hand, gripping it hard as he pumped once and let it go. "Wade," was all he offered.

Another awkward moment passed. "So, I'm guessing you're Sophie's brother?" Jack asked.

He nodded, a single bob of his chin. My heart thumped its warning; the softness I'd seen in him yesterday had vanished, taking my hope with it, leaving behind a cold shell of a man, hardened to steel.

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad," Jack continued as if everything were normal. Maybe to everyone but Wade and me, it seemed that way. "Hopefully the stuff we got today will bring him some happiness."

"Thanks," Wade said, the word flat, colorless. "I'd better be going." He turned his gaze to me, the chill slipping all the way into my marrow. "See you tomorrow, Elliot."

"See you," I echoed feebly as Jack touched the small of my back.

"Nice to meet you," Jack said, but Wade's eyes were fixed on Jack's arm.

He said nothing, just gave another curt nod before blowing past us.

Jack watched him over his shoulder, guiding me forward with his hand on my back, a protective gesture that gave me no strength. "Well, isn't he cheery."

"His father's dying," I said quietly.

His eyes were still on Wade's back. "That's not really an excuse to be rude."

I didn't have the heart to say that it was because of me. The moments we shared, those glimpses of him that I caught when he let me in, let me through, it was all erased in an instant. We'd barely spoken, had barely seen each other, and now he acted as if he held claim to me, as if I'd ruined him all over again. As if I still held the power over him that he held over me.

And the worst part of it all: after an entire day with a handsome, charming man who wanted me, with a single sighting of Wade, I realized I would never get over him. Not as long as I lived.



Wade

I couldn't stop walking.

My tasks were forgotten, my list forgotten, wiped out at the sight of Elliot with him.

Jack.

The word was a curse as I walked aimlessly around the Upper West, replaying the meeting over and over again as if I could will another outcome into existence. As if I could erase the image of her smiling at him. As if I could eradicate the sound of her laughter. As if I could break the hand that touched her back.

Coming home to find Ben had shifted something in me, given me hope, given me strength. Given me purchase against the shifting ground I found myself on. All night, I'd thought about the possibility of her. All day, I'd considered what I would say. I'd let myself hope, hope that was dashed by the sight of her by his side.