“This guy she’s met is from the same family who kidnapped your son?” Justin asks.

  I roll my eyes his way but answer anyway. “Yeah. The Parkers. They’re so perfect it’s enough to make you want to vomit.”

  “Is this Quinten and Felicity Parker?”

  “Yes. You know them?” I ask, surprised.

  Justin nods. “There aren’t many people in this town I don’t know. And yeah, you know when people are that perfect, they’ve got something to hide.”

  I laugh. “Funny. I was just thinking something similar about you.”

  “Me?” Justin points to his chest in disbelief.

  “Yeah. I mean, you’re doing this all by yourself, you’re juggling work and a house and raising a kid, I mean⁠—”

  Justin holds out his palm to stop me. “Hold up. You’re doing all that, too. Is it somehow more commendable just because I’m a man?” His voice is defiant but there’s an amused look on his face.

  “Oh stop. That’s not what I meant at all.” I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s just… what with losing your wife, it must be even more difficult. I mean, I get some time off when my ex-husband takes the kids. You don’t get that. And you seem as though you just take everything in your stride. Don’t you ever just… break?”

  Justin shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “No? Never?”

  “Ruby, the thing you’re going to learn about me is that I live an unexamined life. I’m not one for introspection. Call that unhealthy if you like. I kind of just get on with things and ignore the naysayers.”

  “How many naysayers are there exactly?” I ask.

  “More than you’d think,” he says quietly.

  I want to ask more but the boys have reappeared and are running full force toward us.

  “Mom!”

  “Dad!”

  They shout in unison.

  “What’s up?” I ask Cameron, concerned by the look on his face.

  “She took my skateboard! I was showing Xavier a trick and she just came and stole it from me!” he shouts, his voice wobbling as though he’s trying not to cry. “She took it inside her house and won’t give it back!”

  “What? Who are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The mean lady from next door!” Cameron shouts.

  Generally, I might presume that Cameron was telling me the abridged version of how and why his skateboard was confiscated, but since he’s referring to Bernice Fisher, I totally believe it. I give an apologetic look to Justin before I get up to follow Cameron.

  I’m starting to wish I’d been told about this woman before I bought the place. Bernice has been nothing but a pain in my ass since we got here and the thought of living next door to her for the next twenty or more years until she croaks sounds exhausting.

  I get to her front drive, Cameron right behind me, and march up to her door. “Mrs. Fisher!” I shout and knock loudly.

  I ring the doorbell a couple of times for good measure, then wait. The old witch is hiding in there, and apparently she’s not coming out. I open up her mail slot and shout through. “Bernice! I know you’re in there. My son wants his skateboard back!”

  Cameron and I wait another minute before we see Justin walking toward his car with Xavier behind him. Giving up on Bernice, I walk back around to our driveway.

  “Sorry about this. The woman next door to us has been giving us a hard time since we moved in. I don’t know what her problem is.”

  “It’s okay, we’d better be getting home anyway,” Justin says. “I hope you manage to get that skateboard back.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But then it’ll just be something else with her tomorrow.”

  Cameron runs around the side of the car to say goodbye to his new friend and Justin takes a step closer to me. “So, next time Xavier and I come over, I’m going to install that new countertop for you.”

  “Is that right? Next time?” I say, a little shocked by how forward this guy is.

  “Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “We’ll see you sometime next week.”

  He winks at me as he gets into his car and I watch, mouth agape, as he drives off. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a guy like Justin before. So cocksure and uninhibited.

  Cameron pulls at the side of my top. “Mom, I really want my skateboard back.”

  I look back at our neighbor’s house, then nod to him. “You go inside. I’ll get your skateboard back for you.”

  Cameron runs into the house and I metaphorically pull up my sleeves as I—a mother scorned—march right up to Bernice Fisher’s house ready to stand up for my son.

  But the strangest thing happens when I get to her door. My hand is out, poised to knock, when the door swings open and Bernice stands there, a dark look clouding her haggard face. She shoves the skateboard into my hands and looks right into my eyes as she speaks quietly. “Do not trust Justin Thomas. He was the one that did it,” she says before slamming the door in my face.

  14

  MORY

  If you’d told me when Mom first moved us out here three months ago that I’d soon be dreading leaving Lonerock to go to my father’s house in Arizona, I’d have said you were out of your mind. Certifiably insane.

  But it’s been two weeks since I first visited Lonerock Falls, and since then I’ve been back four times. Each time after nightfall, when Mom and Cameron are asleep. I stay up some nights, my phone in my hand, waiting for the text to come. And on the nights it does, I make the fifteen-minute walk in the dark to the waterfall, where I find him waiting for me.

  The first night I snuck out to meet him there, he’d leaned down to kiss me and it felt as though my legs might drop out from underneath me. But each time we get together, I feel more and more comfortable wrapped up in his arms. And the fact we’re keeping this a secret from everyone makes it all the more exciting. And on the weekends, when I go to the Parkers’ to join in on the robotics builds, the best part of the day is when we find a stolen moment together to share a kiss.

  So, the thought of Christmas break being just around the corner and having to leave him behind and not see him for over two weeks feels like torture. I may as well be stabbed in the heart right now.

  My mom knows that I find Hutch cute, I’ve told her, of course, and she teases me about it when I go to his. But if she knew the truth about the make out sessions, I know she’d put a stop to me going over there.

  My mom still thinks of me as a child. She even calls me ‘baby’ for God’s sake.

  I love my mom and I know she’s trying really hard to make our home better, but it’s a complete mess. And I’m so much happier when I’m at the Parkers’ house. I think Cameron is, too.

  Last Saturday, after our latest robotics build with his dad, Hutch had waited until we were alone and pulled me by the hand behind the door. His face was just inches from mine. “Will you stay for dinner tonight?”

  I felt his fingers lace with mine and I smiled. “I’d love to.”

  So, with Hutch’s mom’s blessing (and a text reply from my own mom saying it was okay) both Cameron and I had joined the Parkers for dinner that evening. Cameron and Leo sat next to each other, pretending their slices of garlic bread were airplanes crashing into the broccoli rainforest while Felicity and Quinten had conversed with me and Hutch as though we were their equals.

  We discussed history and what places in time we’d love to have seen, and Quinten had even proposed a question to everyone at the table: if you could meet anyone in the world, dead or alive, who would you choose? Felicity had said Marilyn Monroe, which I thought was funny because she kind of looks a little bit like her but with long hair, and Quinten chose some physicist that I’d never heard of. Then Hutch chose Abraham Lincoln, and I chose Ada Lovelace—which Quinten and Hutch both said was a great answer—although if I had been honest, I probably would have said Taylor Swift but I thought they’d be less impressed by that.

  After, we’d all had dessert (home-made apple pie with whipped cream) and the whole evening was just so great that when it was time for me and Cameron to leave, going back to my mom’s small, messy house and dealing with her annoying questions (what did the Parkers make for dinner? Did Cameron remember his table manners? Did you both say thank you to Felicity and Quinten before you left?) was the last thing I wanted to do.

  The only consolation was that before I left their house that evening, we’d quietly made a plan to meet again later, since it’s the last chance we’ll have before I leave for Arizona in few days. We’re going to meet at Lonerock Falls again, our usual spot, at midnight. Mom always falls asleep at about ten, and Cameron—who spends his whole day bouncing around the place like a kangaroo on a pogo stick—is dead to the world from eight o’clock onwards every night. So, I have no worries of either of them catching me sneaking out.

  When I step out of the house, I pull my coat firmly around myself and watch my breath steam out into the cold December air. Walking by each house, I take in the twinkling Christmas lights and lawn decorations, which make the whole street feel festive and alive.

  My mom hasn’t put up any decorations this year. She says there’s no point because it’ll just be her alone there until we get back from Dad’s house after New Year. I don’t know if she realizes how much of a guilt trip she’s laying on me and Cameron when she says things like that. It’s not like we choose to go to Dad’s house for summers and Christmases. That’s what they agreed, without ever asking me or Cameron what we wanted. Although, if they had, we would both have just chosen to stay with our dad all the time. And I can’t even imagine the guilt trip my mom would lay on us then.

  Spending so much time at the Parkers’ recently has given me a glimpse into the type of life that I never had the chance to get. The big house, the attentive parents, the dinners around the table together. I mean, we get some of that at my dad’s, and Caitlyn is great and all, but I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have both of your parents together. It felt safe, I remember that. But then, Mom and Dad fought so much that as time went on, that feeling of safety grew less and less stable, until one day everything just crumbled and fell apart. Now me and Cameron go where we’re told to, when we’re told to. And if that means Mom spends Christmas alone, that’s not our fault.

  Hutch doesn’t have to deal with flights back and forth between his parents’ homes, or his parents asking thinly veiled questions about the other one, wanting to know what they’re doing and who they’re seeing without actually having to come out and ask it.

  As I climb down the embankment and hear the falls rushing close by, I look around in the dim light that comes more from the streetlights on the road above than the nearly full moon in the sky, and I see that he’s not here yet.

  I walk over to the bench to wait for him. I pull out my phone to see if I missed a text, but there’s nothing. It’s quiet on the road above, there’s barely any cars out at this time of night, and it’s so cold that after a few minutes I begin losing the feeling in my fingers. I’m wondering where the hell he is when I hear a twig snap behind me and then a pair of arms creep around my shoulders. I jump in fright but laugh when I turn around to see him smiling at me.

  “Hey,” he says and kisses me softly on the lips.

  After a moment I pull away. “You kept me waiting.”

  “Sorry, I had to make sure everyone was definitely asleep.”

  “I guess I forgive you,” I tease and then laugh as he grabs me and pulls me up into the air, spinning me around before lowering me back down and kissing me again.

  This is where I’m happiest now. Right here, in the moonlight, with the water roaring nearby. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.

  “I don’t want to go to my dad’s house. I don’t want to leave you. You’re so lucky you don’t have to deal with any of this. Your family is perfect,” I say.

  I get a side eye for this. “Trust me, our family isn’t as perfect as we might seem.”

  Maybe he’s telling the truth. But whenever I look at Hutch, I see a guy who has two perfect parents, the perfect home and seemingly no roadblocks in his way of living an incredible, balanced life. My life is a mess in comparison.

  “I’m going to miss you.” He rests his forehead on mine before pulling me closer, holding me tightly.

  We stand there for a while, embracing the short amount of time we get to spend alone together, and soon it’s time to leave again.

  By the time I reach my house, it’s after one in the morning. I slot the key in quietly and close the door behind me before taking my shoes and coat off and putting them back in their places. I’m two steps up the stairs when I hear her voice.

  “Mory, in here please.”

  I curse under my breath and slowly walk into the living room where I find my mom sitting in the low light of a lamp, a book open on her lap. She puts it down next to her and sighs. “Where were you?”

  There’s no point in me making up some kind of over the top ridiculous lie, like I was sleepwalking or that I thought I’d heard a burglar outside, she’d just see right through it.

  “With Hutch.” I sigh.

  She rolls her eyes. “Well, I figured out that much myself. Where?”

  “We just met up nearby,” I say, not wanting to out our special spot.

  “Mory, I know he’s only a couple of years older than you, but technically he’s an adult and if you two are⁠—”

  “We’re not having sex, Mom,” I say. “Hutch is sweet and respectful and you have nothing to worry about.”

  “So why the sneaking around?” she asks.

  I try to find the right answer to this. “It’s… I don’t know. There’s always other people around when we’re at his house. We just want a little time where it’s just the two of us, you know?”

  Mom nods in understanding. “Okay. I get it. You know it’s not that long ago that I was a teenager.”

  I have to look down at my feet to stop myself from rolling my eyes. The amount of times Mom has reminded me that she and Dad were high school sweethearts and that she was only twenty-two when they had me, and that she’s a ‘young mom’ is embarrassing. It’s as though she thinks it makes her cooler or more relatable in my eyes, but if there’s a difference between her and the older moms around the place, I don’t see it.

  “I’m sorry for sneaking out. It’s just this was my last chance to see him and I’m going to really miss him when I go to Dad’s next week,” I say honestly.

  Mom gets up from the couch and hugs me tight, then kisses my hair.

  “That’s really sweet. I know Hutch is a nice guy, and I trust that you have good judgment. But with the age gap, it’s important that you wait at least a few months, until you’re seventeen, before you and he consider taking your relationship any further, okay?” Her voice is kind but there’s no hiding the underlying sternness to it.

  “Just like you and Dad did, right?” I can’t resist.

  Mom looks down at her bare wrist, eyes wide. “Gosh, it’s late. We should really be getting to bed.”

  15

  RUBY

  And just like that, Mory and Cameron are gone again.

  I dropped them off at the airport this morning and clung on to them until they pried themselves away from my grip. Their father will get to enjoy the holiday season with them and I’ll be wishing them a happy Christmas over the phone again. The same for New Year.

  When I arrived back from the airport alone and listened to the deafening silence that filled the house and looked around at the clutter of unfinished odd jobs and works in progress around me, I knew I had two choices: spend the holiday period wallowing in my own self-pity, or roll my sleeves up and throw myself into getting this house renovated.

  I half-heartedly chose the latter and now, as I’m hauling a box of broken old tiles outside to the trash, I glimpse Bernice Fisher at her window, watching me. She sees me look at her and turns away, closing the curtains. That woman must have absolutely no life of her own, because she seems to spend her time waiting at her window for something—anything—that she can log a complaint with someone about. I don’t know what capacity Bernice knows Justin Thomas in, but her warning to me a couple weeks back that ‘he did it’ could have been referencing anything from cutting in line at the grocery store to single-handedly pulling off the Kennedy assassination. Luckily, her dislike of Justin seems to be as unfounded as her dislike of, well, everyone else.

  Justin has been a saving grace for me, coming over and helping me install the new countertops in the kitchen and then again to help with tiling the backsplash. Xavier comes along with him to play with Cameron, and Justin always brings ice cream for the two boys and some kind of DIY related gift for me. After the toolkit, it was a stud finder and then a set of wrenches, each time wrapped up with a red ribbon. I’d have to be blind not to notice his flirting, the man doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body. I was wondering how long it would take him to actually make a move when I finally got a text from him yesterday:

  You, me, that kitchen sink waiting to be installed and a bottle of wine tomorrow night. I’ll be over at seven.

  I didn’t have much choice but to agree. I’ve been putting off installing the new sink I bought for the kitchen and the offer was very much appreciated… and the fact that I’ve since meticulously shaved, exfoliated, blow dried my hair and bought myself a brand-new set of lace underwear is purely coincidental.

  Since my split with Aaron, I’ve only been on one date. It was a blind date—set up by a mutual friend—and it was going great until midway through our meal when he got a text from his ex-wife asking him to come over to help fix her laptop. He literally got up mid plate of spaghetti, threw three twenties on the table, apologized, and left. That kind of put me off the whole dating thing for a while. And since I haven’t really been putting myself out there at all, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any prospective suitors. So, the fact that there’s now an attractive man who not only knows how to take the lead but has taken it upon himself to help fix up my house is a new development in my life you won’t find me pushing back against. And I guess there’s no ex-wife to compete with here, because she’s dead.