Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I picked up my phone on a whim, an uneasy feeling roiling in my stomach as I scrolled through my numbers until I found Hannah’s and then called it. First Tucker, now Hannah? Apparently, I was turning into a gregarious bastard during the holidays.
Just when I thought I was going to get sent to voicemail, Hannah’s voice came on the line, thick with confusion. “Patrick Whitt?” In the background, a kid hollered something, and another answered in kind.
“Hi, yeah, it’s Patrick. Merry Christmas. I’m, uhhh, I’m sure I’m interrupting.”
“I’ve got a few minutes. Just a sec…” She muffled the phone and spoke to someone before coming back on the line. “Is everything okay? Definitely not a caller I was expecting on Christmas Day.”
Or probably ever since we’d not spoken in over a decade.
“Sorry about that. Yeah, everything’s fine. Those your kids in the background?”
“Yeah, and my husband. My parents are here, too.” Her voice softened with fondness as she spoke. “They got the kids socks. The tradition continues.” She chuckled. Senior year, she’d been bummed when she opened her presents from them to find a bunch of socks and practical stuff for college before discovering they’d tucked some brand-name purse she’d been dying for behind the tree. “I mean, they obviously got other things, but now I can see the humor from their perspective and…” She blew out a breath, and I could imagine her waving her hand through the air just like she used to do when she’d gotten flustered in high school.
“You sound really happy. Congratulations on the kids and husband. That’s great.” Jesus. When had I become so awkward?
“Thanks? Anyway, what’s up, Patrick?”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes and sank back onto my bed. “I was just thinking… You remember our senior year?”
“Yeah,” she hedged, drawing out the word slowly. “We fought a lot.”
“We did?”
“Yeah,” she laughed. “How do you not remember? I always felt like I was fighting for your time or presence or something. If you weren’t on the football field, you and Jenson were hanging out, and I was tagging along.”
I sucked in a breath at that gutshot because I knew the feeling well. Jenson had transferred to our high school junior year, but we hadn’t really become friends until our senior year. We’d been thick as thieves, though, as Hannah’s parents had always said. He’d eaten dinner with us at her house almost as often as I had. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“Oh, I…thank you. I mean, it’s okay. We were young, you know? I figured it out later on.”
“Figured what out?”
“That there was something going on between the two of you.”
“Wait, what?” I frowned into the darkness.
“Yeah, I mean, you two were always together and…I don’t know. There was just this vibe. This way he looked at you like…” I held still, my breath trapped in my chest, remembering the warmth of his dark brown gaze. I’d not had a friend like him since. “Like he really liked you, maybe more than a friend, and then at our ten-year reunion, when he showed up with his partner, I just figured—”
“I wasn’t with him, Hannah, or cheating on you, I promise,” I said. I’d also skipped the ten-year reunion, but I’d heard before that Jenson had come out in college. At the time, I hadn’t thought anything of the fluttery feeling in my stomach, but since Tucker, it was all I could think about. “So you thought I was into him…like that?”
There was a long pause before she said, “I did, yeah. It made me feel bad at the time, but now I get it. You really never did anything with him?” She laughed. “Because that’s kind of a shame. You two would’ve been really cute together. I don’t know if that’s exactly what you’re getting at here.”
“I’m just trying to figure some things out. About myself.”
“Ah. Well, I don’t know if I’ve been any help.”
“You’ve been an enormous help. Thank you. I don’t want to take any more of your time. I hope the rest of your holidays are good, and I’m really sorry for the way I made you feel. Truly. You deserved better, and I hope you found it.”
“I did. You take care of yourself, Patrick.”
The slight sting of her parting comment was assuaged by the contentment I heard in her voice. She definitely deserved happiness after putting up with my bullshit.
We hung up, and I dropped the phone on my chest and closed my eyes, conjuring up images of Jenson, his smile. The way we’d cut up and crack ourselves up. There’d never been any kind of confession on his part. We’d parted for college with a hug and a back clap and had lost touch quickly after. NYC had seemed to swallow him up, and I’d been similarly absorbed by football at Southern U, and for a long while, I hadn’t allowed myself to think of him at all because the truth was that I’d missed him. And when I thought deeper on it, I could feel the stir of emotions in my chest, a tamped-down longing I’d never allowed any space for. It wasn’t the same thing I felt for Tucker, but a close second.