Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(28)

But Isaac? He barely knows us. How is it that he can say he’ll stay? That he wants to?

People leave. That’s what I know. And I need to protect Claire. How much should I allow Isaac into our lives? But how can I possibly keep him out?

He looks like he means what he says. The planes of his face are fixed, strong. His eyes shine with conviction.

It’s impossible not to remember her in this moment. My mother with her long, brown hair. Her soft laugh, spilling from her throat as she tipped her head back. How she would brush my hair and say Fair Aubrey, the prettiest girl in all the land. It’s one of my only memories of her. One of the only good ones, anyway.

I know what leaving looks like. And it’s my job to keep Claire from ever knowing how that feels.

“Aubrey?” Isaac’s eyes search mine. “I’m not her. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

My chest constricts. He remembers. Even though we haven’t spoken about what sent me to the bar that night, have hardly spoken of that night at all, he remembers what I told him.

And I still don’t know why he was there. But there was something, some reason he’d gone to a honky-tonk all alone.

The rough clearing of a throat breaks through our heavy conversation. Jenna stands next to the table. Her face is a mask of sculpted cheeks and rosy lips, but her eyes swim with emotion. She’s looking down at the tabletop, at our intertwined fingers. It was innocent, a gesture to go along with Isaac’s heartfelt declaration. He pulls away slowly, as if he knows that snatching his hand away will make it look like he was doing something wrong.

Isaac lets her in, his hand on her hip as though she needs the guidance, and right behind him is the arrival of our dinner. I turn my attention to Claire, to the temperature of her food, because I need something to take my mind off whatever the heck is happening across the booth.

When dinner is over we don’t linger. I give the excuse of it being a school night, and quickly say goodbye. Claire hugs Isaac, but stays away from Jenna. She’s obviously mad, and Claire has picked up on it.

Through bath time and story time, and all the way until I nod off to sleep, I think of Jenna and Isaac, and how I hadn’t factored an evil step-mother into the equation. Until now.





I wish I could use Claire as an escape, like Aubrey did as soon as dinner was over. The whole ride home Jenna was silent, seething in her seat, her body rigid. Now I’m sitting on my couch, just waiting for the pot to boil over.

She stalks around the kitchen, opening cabinets and closing them, accomplishing nothing.

At last, she says “You shouldn't have invited me tonight.” Her tone is flat. Devoid of any emotion.

“I wouldn't have, if I’d known you were going to make it your mission to be awkward.” I can see her in the reflection of the black TV screen. She leaves the kitchen and walks closer.

“I tried,” she insists, coming to stand in front of the couch. “But then I saw how futile it was. How pointless it was for me to be there. You like her, Isaac. You have feelings for her.”

My denial is automatic, even though her accusation is nothing but the truth. Liking Aubrey doesn't feel like a choice. I have no say in the matter. But that doesn't mean I have to follow those feelings. They don’t need to make the decisions for me.

“Isaac, don’t sit there and shake your head. I know what I saw.”

“I wasn’t holding her hand when you came back to the table. Not in a romantic way. I was telling her that I would've been there for her had I known about Claire.” The downward spiral of this conversation is beginning. I know where this is all going, but I have to at least put up a fight. “That’s all it was, Jenna.”

She waves a hand, pushing aside my defense. “I don’t care that you held Aubrey’s hand. Not at all, actually. It was more…” She pauses, lips twisting in thought. “Your body language. You leaned into her every chance you got, and I don’t think you even knew you were doing it. And the way you looked at her. It was like your eyes wanted to absorb every part of her.” Her breath comes out in a short, irritated sound. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

“Jenna—”

“Don’t bother.” She stops me with an outstretched palm. “I tried, Isaac. I think I could’ve handled Claire, everything might have worked out if it was just her I had to accept.” Her head moves slowly back and forth. “I won’t watch you want Aubrey. I won’t be the runner-up. And I won’t fight a losing battle.”

There are so many things I’m supposed to say right now. Half-hearted attempts to dissuade her stream through my mind. I let them all pass, because she’s right.

She leaves quickly, taking only her purse. I get up to follow her out, to say good-bye, but she doesn't turn around.

I can’t breathe.

My mom’s arms wrap around me, constricting my chest, until I croak out a reminder. “Mom.”

“That’s the best news ever,” she says, releasing me.

I knew she was going to be happy, but she could hide her total elation at least a little. I give her my stern look.

“Sorry, sorry. What I meant to say was I’m so sorry to hear the news. How are you holding up?” She takes another step back, but she can’t stop the smile that pulls at her lips. “I wish your father were home. He’d be happy about the news too.” Turning abruptly, she says “Follow me to the kitchen.”