Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

NOVA

Ben. Ben and his misgivings were entirely correct, and I was wrong. Just like the picture at the front of the instruction pamphlet said—and the picture on the side of the enormous box, and my quiet instincts—this bunk bed was a two-person job. I’d figured out how to get all the many pieces into Ben and Alice’s room by opening the box where it was, leaning it against my door, and carrying in the planks of wood one at a time.

Stubborn? Me? No, the word was resourceful .

Now I realized why all the pictures showed two people lifting things. To lift one bed frame onto the other and screw them into place, you needed a second person. I’d bought a very inexpensive bed, which meant it didn’t come apart and form two different beds, but I hadn’t thought it would matter. This way they’d have more floor space to play. It also meant asking someone to help lift and hold it in place while I screwed it together. My kids were too small, and I wasn’t about to ask Gigi.

Which left me with a glaring, obvious answer I didn’t want to use. Mostly because I’d already used him multiple times.

There was also Chad, I supposed, but it felt a little weird and personal asking him to come help me. We hadn’t reached that level of friendship. If I was being entirely honest, I didn’t want to reach it with him either. Dusty, on the other hand, had already been in every room in my tiny home. He was intimately familiar with my failings as a mother, and he liked helping others.

I mean, the man was a firefighter.

My kids had gotten bored with this project and were snuggled on my bed watching Despicable Me on my laptop. I slunk down to the floor and pulled out my phone to send Dusty a message. Instead of doing that, I opened Instagram for the fortieth time since this afternoon and navigated to Carter’s page, finding his stories. He hadn’t updated them, and the picture of him and the redhead had one hour left before it would expire.

I wasn’t ready to move on yet. I toggled over to Safari and asked Google if Carter would know if I screenshot his story. I’d never felt my thirty-one years more than I did in that moment. A few years ago, that was the type of thing I’d know offhand. Thankfully, I got the answer I was hoping for. I went back to Instagram and captured the image to live in my phone forever. Or at least for as long as it took to come to terms with this change in my life.

Would my kids have to be around this woman if they went to stay with Carter for any length of time over the summer? What kind of person was she? Did my friends—Trish, at least—know she’d moved in with Carter because of Instagram or from seeing them together around the city? Did he take her out every night? Did he make time for this woman the way he couldn’t make time to call his own children consistently?

My eyes went hot when tears spilled over the edges, but I’d cried enough tonight for him. I dashed them away angrily and groaned. Sucking in a cool, long breath, I let it out and focused on exhaling, closing my eyes and commanding myself to put it aside for now. It could be managed later .

Right now, I needed to get this bed put together so my kids would have somewhere to sleep that wasn’t littered with screws and spare pieces of wood and those weird round things cheap furniture came with. I typed out a message to Dusty, but my finger hovered over the send button. Once I did this, there would be no going back. Defeat edged into my body. I wanted to be enough for my kids on my own. I couldn’t finish the bed alone, though, so I swallowed my pride, shoved away my failure with tired arms, and sent the text.

Nova

Hey there, Rival

Dusty

Why do I have a feeling you’re about to ask me for something? I don’t know how to say this, but you can’t have my cat

I laughed despite myself and wiped my eyes again.

Nova

Your instincts aren’t too off, but I’m not a cat person

Dusty

Wow. How disappointing. I was hoping we could be friends

Nova

It’s been a good run

Dusty

Nice to know you

I took a steadying breath.

Nova

Are you busy?

Dusty

Just about to leave Beeler. What’s up? Want me to show you what lasagna’s really supposed to taste like?

Nova

I thought you said mine was the best you’d ever had

Dusty

It was. I was just trying to get you to make it again

I laughed again, the sound watery. It was a good thing he wasn’t here to witness the mess on my face.

My phone started buzzing and I stared at it, sucking in a slightly panicked breath between my teeth. Dusty was calling. I cleared my throat and hummed a little to make sure it sounded mostly normal, then swiped to answer. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, sounding a little distanced from the phone. “I’m driving now, so I thought this was safer. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. I have this bunk bed to put together, but I’ve reached a point where I need a second person to hold things in place and I…” Drawing in a shaky breath, I fought the emotion clouding my throat. “I was hoping you had five minutes to come hold it for me.” My voice went too high while I was trying to cover my sudden bout of fresh tears. This was stupid. I shouldn’t be crying over this, and I really hoped he couldn’t tell.

He was silent for a moment. “What’s going on, Nova?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

Great, so he could totally tell.

“It’s really just this stupid bed. It doesn’t have to be done right now. But sometime when you have a minute?—”

“Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“I thought you just left Beeler,” I said, remembering it had taken more than twenty minutes to get there last time .

“I’ll be there soon. Did you guys eat dinner?”

I glanced at the time. It was almost seven, and I hadn’t even thought of what to make. It was looking like a Kraft night. “Not yet.”

“Don’t cook. I have dinner with me, and it’s more than enough for all of us. Will your kids eat tacos?”

“They love tacos.” My emotions were rising again, but this time I knew why. On top of everything else, I didn’t have to cook.

“Okay. See you soon.” He seemed to hesitate.

I didn’t say anything. Honestly, I would have been fine sitting against my kids’ wall, listening to him on the phone all night just to not feel so alone. Wow, could I be more depressing? Pathetic, Nova.

“Nova?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

My heart flew to my throat. “Actually, you’re the one who called.”

Dusty laughed, a deep, hearty sound. “Okay, fine. I’m glad you texted me. I meant it when I told you I’m happy to help.”

“I know.” Truly, I did. It was abundantly clear. He was the man I called because I knew he would be authentically happy to come over and help me get this done—no strings, no expectations, no assertions of his manliness. I really wanted to be independent and handle things on my own. It was important to feel like I could after being codependent to some degree for ten years. With Dusty, it didn’t feel like codependency. It didn’t feel like each of us doing what we had to in order to survive. It felt like true charity, giving of oneself with sincerity and genuine kindness. There were no ulterior motives here.

At least I didn’t think there were.

“Thanks,” I finally said when the silence had stretched too long. The poor guy was probably waiting for me to break down, but somehow talking to him had a calming effect on me. “I’ll see you soon.”

We hung up, and I went into the bathroom to splash cool water on my face. Twenty minutes later, Dusty showed up on my porch. He wore a long-sleeve black shirt with Arcadia Energy written down the side of his arm that he must have gotten from Tucker. His muscles strained under the sleeves, his honey eyes shining against my porchlight and a shadow of beard growth on his jaw.

I didn’t think anyone had ever looked so good. “Hi,” I said softly.

He gave me a smile that wasn’t overly large, but felt like it was just for me, then lifted a big dish of meat and a bag of corn tortillas and fixings. “Hi. Why don’t we eat first and worry about the bed after?”

I released a sigh. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Dusty preheated my oven, ostensibly to warm the meat, and got to work setting everything up.

“Do you always carry around emergency tacos?”

He laughed, which felt like a win. “I tried to take them to my grandpa tonight, but he was asleep when I got there and the facility won’t keep the food on hand for tomorrow.”

“Won’t he be disappointed?”

“Nah, he won’t even know. He forgets most things from day to day.” Dusty shrugged, but I sensed it mattered to him more than he made it sound.

He’d told me his parents weren’t in the picture and his grandpa had raised him. If the man who’d raised me was suffering from dementia in this way, I don’t know how I’d cope. It would feel so lonely . Did he have anyone else? Anyone at all?

Dusty set out dinner while I retrieved plates and silverware. We worked around each other effortlessly. I filled glasses with ice water and Dusty searched my fridge .

“Salsa?” he asked, looking through the few condiments I had in the door.

“In the pantry. We haven’t opened it yet.”

He found the jar and popped the lid effortlessly before putting it on the table. My eyes rose to his arms. If I asked, I bet he’d open the strawberry jam for me. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I’d bought a squeeze canister of grape jam—my kids’ second favorite flavor—and was determined to open the strawberry jar on my own. Once I’d built up more strength, maybe? In all honesty, I had only tried one other time after that first day of school, and it still didn’t budge. I was half-convinced someone at the market had superglued the thing shut as an old April Fool’s joke and forgot about it.

“Ready,” Dusty said, pulling the meat from the oven. The aroma filled my small kitchen like a warm, billowing cloud of cumin and garlic.

Ben popped around the corner. “What’s that smell?”

“Tacos,” I told him. “Courtesy of Coach Hayes.”

His eyes brightened when he noticed Dusty near the table. It did a weird, dangerous thing to my stomach.

“Will you get your sister, please?” I asked.

Ben ran into my room, calling for Alice as he went. I watched him hurry to the table and eagerly sit in the chair closest to where Dusty hovered. Alice rolled into the room in a long series of somersaults before climbing onto her seat across from Ben, her pink monkey on her lap.

Dusty said nothing, like it was totally normal to roll into the dining room, but I caught the glint of amusement in his eyes while he stood beside his chair. I fetched sour cream and a spoon before sitting, and he waited until I was in my chair before lowering himself into his. Sometimes the country boy manners were a bit much, but other times they were just sweet. Right now, while the reality that Carter had fully and completely moved on hovered in the back of my mind, I was leaning toward the sweetness.

Was it unhealthy to appreciate Dusty right now? I didn’t have to marry the guy to like how he treated me or my children. Maybe I was leaning a little too easily into enjoying the way he seemed interested while Alice quietly told him the history of her pink monkey—how she’d gotten it on a trip to the zoo. I was tired of resisting, of being strong for three people instead of just one, and I let my walls down the littlest bit. Only for this dinner, I would let myself enjoy a moment where my kids felt heard by an adult who wasn’t me, where I didn’t have to cook after working all day and mom-ing all afternoon, and where the man at the other end of the table wasn’t leaving me alone so he could move in with his new upgraded girlfriend.

Okay, I clearly wasn’t over it. Carter’s life change still bothered me. The weirdness of it more than anything else. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t shake it—he wasn’t the type of guy to jump into a commitment in general. He’d asked for the divorce and left me over a year ago, and if Trish could be believed, he’d been dating around. Then bam , full on live-in girlfriend.

That was probably what bugged me about the situation. Not how quickly he’d moved on from me, but how fast he’d committed to this girl when they couldn’t have been serious for very long. It was out of character.

I needed to stop thinking about Carter, so I bit into my taco and moaned with appreciation. “Okay, you win. Your tacos trump my lasagna.”

Dusty shoved the last bite of a taco in his mouth, shaking his head. “You can’t compare Italian to Mexican. That’s unfair to both parties. They’re different.”

“I stand by what I said.”

“Let’s take it to a vote.” Dusty looked Ben and Alice in the eye one at a time. “The kids can decide. What did you like better? Your mom’s amazing, mouth-watering, rich lasagna or these frumpy tacos?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Raise your hand for lasagna,” he said, shooting his arm in the air. Alice giggled, raising her hand. “Now tacos.”

Ben put both arms in the air, wiggling them around, and I joined him.

“Shoot, it’s a tie.” I scratched an itch on my arm, then reached for another taco.

Dusty looked at me with a smile that melted my insides just a bit. “Guess we’ll need a rematch.”