Jake grunted.
“Get away from her. Now.”
“The hell, Trent?” Ash said. “We were just talking.”
“Now, Jake.” Trent hammered his cane. “Don’t make me take your iPod away.”
Jake dropped his shoulders in boyish frustration. Guided by his bat, he approached Trent. But instead of taking Trent’s outstretched hand, he rushed into the kitchen.
“Champ, wait!” Trent said. Before he could turn around, the kid disappeared into the den and slammed the door. Trent tried the knob and found it locked. Fuming, he turned to Ash. “The hell you think you’re doing?”
“I think I’m…watching whatever I just watched.”
Trent glared back. “Oh, you think you’re funny?”
“The kid did nothing wrong.”
“He talked to you.”
“So?”
“He doesn’t talk to me. Not anymore.”
“Seriously?” She eyed Trent. When he didn’t answer, she set her six-packs on the table. Using her elbow to steady a bottle, she twisted the cap off. She gulped away, the beer hitting her throat like heaven. “Want a drink?”
“I want you gone.”
“Makes two of us,” she said. “You want the leg or not?”
“It really doesn’t matter.”
“So you’re content to limp around?”
“You should’ve asked me that ten years ago before you got wasted and crashed the van.”
The comment stung like a scorpion’s tail. The fact that she was drinking right now only made her feel guiltier.
“Honestly, Ash, I don’t give a shit anymore.” His face turned redder by the word. “Limp, no limp, who cares?”
“It’d be easier to help your kid with two good legs.”
“Even easier if Snare could trade him some eyes.”
“I’m working on it, okay?”
“Not hard enough.” He tapped his cane impatiently. “You know what? Count me out.”
“Fine. Another guy in town needs a leg anyway.” She waited for him to take the bait, but he went to the counter, grabbed a fresh onion, and slammed it on a cutting board. Sighing, she followed him. “Trent, I want the leg to be yours.”
“Course you do.” He cut the onion down the middle. “If I get it, you don’t have to feel bad anymore.”
“So you’re refusing the leg to spite me?”
“I’m refusing because I have responsibilities.” He kept slicing. Her eyes prickled. The way he dragged the blade made her wonder if he pictured her throat beneath it. “Y’see, Ash, parents have to give a shit about someone other than themselves. Maybe that’s a mindblow for you, so give it a minute to sink in.”
“Real funny.”
“It’s the truth. Now, say I take Snare’s deal, get a new leg, and dance for joy. Woo-fucking-hoo.” He bobbled his head in mock celebration. “But later when I try leaving town, my leg starts buzzing. Then what? Then I’m stuck here for life. Just like Dad.”
“Snare’s letting us leave.”
“What if Snare’s lying?”
“Snare isn’t lying.” She knew what she’d heard at the creek—a desperate soul yearning for freedom. “Call it gut instinct.”
“I’d sooner call it horseshit.”
“Then why insist on your kid trading his eyes?”
“First of all, my ‘kid’ has a name.” He pushed the blade down, dicing the onion. Her eyes stung. “Second, if Jake and me both get stuck in Hollow Hills, I can live with that. But if it’s just me, that fucks up everything. We already have a special school lined up for him in Jersey. He starts soon, and I gotta be there for him.”
“You will.” She understood his logic. She really did. But at the same time, she thought he was an idiot for ignoring this opportunity. “Trent, don’t blow this.”
Sighing, he swept the diced onions onto a plate. He set the knife down and pressed both palms on the counter, steadying himself. For the longest time he stared down at his leg.
“Trent—”
“Stop pretending you give a shit, all right?”
“What, you think I don’t? You think I just moved on and forgot you?” Her eyes burned. It had nothing to do with the onions. “Trent, it eats through me like acid. Every day. Every night. I feel it in my head, my heart, my stomach—”
“I know.”
“You’re not letting me finish.”
“Don’t need to,” he said. “I know the feeling. Maybe not for as long as you have, but…however shitty you feel, multiply it by the largest number you can think of. That’s how bad I feel about what I did to Jake.”
“What…what happened?”
Trent took a deep breath. Exhaled. Ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “This past summer I took Jake to a cabin I rented in north Jersey. There was a lake, so I borrowed some fishing rods and planned a father-son weekend. While we were casting lines off a rocky peninsula, this old man in a Mets cap yelled over. Jake and me were wearing Phillies gear, so I figured the guy was a ball-buster. Turned out he was a doctor. A neurologist.
“He asked about my leg, what was damaged, what treatments I’d received, everything. Then he mentioned this experimental program and asked if I’d like to be a candidate.
“I couldn’t wait to sign up. The doc invited me out to New York for eligibility tests, but I couldn’t wait that long. I didn’t want to spend two weeks getting my hopes up only to find out my nerves were too fried to qualify. So the doc invited Jake and me back to his cabin. Next thing I knew, I was Skyping this guy in a white coat while Dr. Mets Fan applied pressure to a thousand different spots on my leg.
“After about fifteen minutes, Jake got bored and asked if he could go swimming. I told him no, but he kept complaining. Between the tests and Jake’s moaning, I was getting super anxious. Then the doc tucked two fingers behind my calf and frowned. I could tell by the look in his eyes that my chances were shot. Right then Jake announced he was gonna dive into the lake and catch fish with his bare hands. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
“He was out the door before it dawned on me. I knew there was only one spot where Jake could dive from—that rocky peninsula, the one we were fishing off. I also knew if he dove off the edge, there’d be more rocks waiting beneath the water.
“Without thinking twice, I rushed out of the cabin. Didn’t even grab my cane. I flat-out ran on my bum leg until it gave out. Then I panic-crawled like a wounded animal. Somehow I reached the lake. It was shining in the sunlight. It looked fucking beautiful, like something that could never hurt my son.
“I still remember it, Ash. Frame by frame like a bad movie I’ve seen a million times. Jake was there, shirtless and shoeless, bending his knees at the edge of the rock, bouncing in place. Then he jumped straight up. At some point his body tipped forward like a dolphin and he dove face-first through the surface. Head, shoulders, waist—all of it went through cleanly. I thought he was okay.
“Then everything jolted.
“His feet flinched. It was as though time had stopped.