A Thousand Letters

Her cheeks flamed, her eyes hard as she glared at Charlie. "I just worked all night and you dump this on me as soon as I walk in the door? What the fuck, Charlie?"

Sammy jumped in a circle saying fuck over and over again. I bent down to whisper in his ear that it was bad manners for a little boy to say that word, and he nodded, quieting down.

Charlie fumed, brows low. "We had plans already, all of us. So handle it."

She turned on her heel and stormed away. "This is so fucking typical. Selfish assholes," she said as she blew by, and Charlie followed her in a gust of heat and anger.

"We’re selfish?" he asked as he made his way up the stairs on her heels.

"Yes, you are selfish. Elliot’s selfish. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourselves." Her voice grew thin as she walked into her room.

"That’s fucking rich, Mary," Charlie slammed the door, muffling their argument, and Jack and I shared a look.

Dad stood, one eyebrow up. "How unsavory. Trouble in paradise, I suppose."

"I suppose," Jack echoed before picking up Maven. "You ready, princess?"

"Weady!" she cheered, and we filed out the door, leaving the mess behind us.

I breathed easier as soon as the door was closed.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"Fine, thanks."

"They fight like that much? I’ve never seen it like that before."

I shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. "Sometimes. Mary’s just tired. She’s the worst after she works a night shift."

He made a noncommittal sound.

"You work today?" I asked, anxious to change the subject.

"I do. Heading there after this."

"It must be nice, having your own business, making your own hours."

He chuffed. "That’s one of the perks, but running a business is way more work than anyone tells you. But I have a problem with authority, so this is pretty much my only career option."

I chuckled.

"What about you? Planning on nannying forever?"

"God, I hope not," I said with a laugh. "My dream is to write, have my work published, but I’m not ready yet. I’m kind of … in limbo. Pretty much the only thing I can do with a literature degree is write or get certified to teach."

"I think you’d be a great teacher. You’re patient, kind. I’d murder a room full of kids — wouldn’t last a week."

"Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re great with Maven and Sammy."

He shrugged. "Just ’cause they’re cute. But really, I’d rather be at the bike shop amidst the smell of rubber and grease."

"Kinky."

He laughed — it was such a nice sound — and looked down at me, smiling. "Go to dinner with me, Elliot."

My cheeks warmed, and I looked down at my feet as we walked. "Jack …"

"You keep surprising me, and I’m not easily surprised. But you … you’re unexpected. I know … well, I know now’s not the best time, but humor me." He slowed to a stop, grabbing my hand to stop me too. "Say yes. It’s just a meal. I promise, I won’t even try to kiss you. I’ll wait for you to make the first move — I’m a patient guy."

I sighed, trying to find the right words, wishing I felt the undeniable need to give him the answer he wanted. But I didn’t. "Thank you for the offer, but with everything going on with Rick … I just can’t right now."

He nodded, looking only a little crestfallen. "I get that. But like I said: I’m a patient guy. I can wait."

I wished I could have told him the truth about who possessed my heart, but it was too true to admit to him, too real to say out loud.

He ran his thumb over my knuckles. "In the meantime, I’ll help you scavenge things for Rick and be around if you need to be rescued from your sister."

I smiled at that. "Thanks, Jack."

"You’ve got it, Elliot." He let go of my hand, and we walked for a moment in silence. "So, I guess broody guy will be there tonight too."

I tried to focus on the rhythm of my feet on the pavement and Sammy’s small hand in mine. "Yes, Wade will be there."

"I asked Charlie about him — he said you guys used to date?"

"That was a long time ago," I answered softly.

"Was he always like that? So … angry?"

"No. Not before. But he’s been through so much. War. His dad." Me.

Jack shook his head. "You excuse everyone for treating you the way they do, did you know that?"

A defensive wind blew inside of me. "Because there are reasons, valid reasons, and I’m not so self-important as to think that I’m above their feelings."

"But what about your feelings?"

"It’s not about me. That’s my point."

He clenched his jaw, his voice hard. "But they treat you like you’re not important at all."

"That’s not entirely true. But I don’t need their validation."

Another shake of his head. "I just hate that they treat you the way they do."

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, fuming. "Are you suggesting that I’m a doormat?"

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I didn’t mean it that way."

"It sounds that way. It sounds like you’re saying that because I don’t stand up to them that I’m weak. But here’s the thing — there’s no point. Arguing will not change their behavior, and it helps no one, especially not me. I don’t suffer very often because I don’t let them hurt me. My being present is a choice. My enduring their judgment is a choice. My choice, and therein lies my power. I stay for the kids. I stay because, believe it or not, Mary and Charlie have helped me, and I repay that gladly. So my sister is condescending and demanding, just like my father. They’ve always been this way, and I’ve always been the way I am. I have my reasons, but I want you to understand that this is my choice. I endure enough judgment from them — I would really rather not receive it from you too."