Dean’s gaze lifts to mine. “She also didn’t tell me you were in town.”
“I just got in yesterday. She didn’t know I was coming.”
“You probably should’ve told her,” he says, stepping into the house as if he owns the place. He doesn’t. I do. Well, half of it, anyway. “That girl hates surprises.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I scoff, closing the door behind him.
He moves through the entryway and toward the kitchen. “Yes, she does.”
“Maybe you just sucked at giving them to her.”
Over his shoulder, he says, “You’re still competitive, huh?”
“And you’re still a little bitch.”
He draws out a sigh. “And you’re still as immature as you were five years ago.”
I roll my eyes, following him through the kitchen and out the back door. His arrival had woken me, so I have no idea what time it is, but the sun’s already beating down. We walk side by side, our steps rushed as if it makes a fucking difference who gets to the pool house first. I wait until we’re poolside to ask, “Do you have the time?”
Fucker checks his watch. “Just after nine.”
“Cool.” I match him step for step. “Do you know what the weather’s like today?”
His steps falter as he side-eyes me. “I don’t know, bro. Let me check.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. As soon as it’s within reaching distance, I snatch it out of his hand and push him into the pool. I am, after all, immature.
I watch him come to the surface, his stupid tie caught around his neck. “What the fuck?!”
The pool house door slides open, and Jamie appears in a thin tank and sleep shorts, squinting against the harsh sunlight. She notices me first and then Dean in the pool. “Jesus, Holden!”
“What?” I shrug.
Dean swims to the edge, holds on to it. “I’m meeting a possible buyer here in ten minutes, you dick!”
Jamie’s at my side now, though I’m sure I could’ve felt her glare from a mile away. “What is wrong with you?” she hisses. To Dean, she asks, “Do you need me to go to your apartment and get a change of clothes?”
Dean pushes up and out of the water. When he’s on his feet again, he takes his phone from me, saying, “I have a change of clothes in the car.” He turns, heading for the side gate.
I face Jamie, smile. “Good morn—”
The last thing I see is her eyes as wide as saucers. Right before I’m submerged in the water. I really should’ve seen it coming, but witnessing Jamie in all her morning glory sent my mind into a fog. A tailspin. When I resurface, they’re both watching me, Jamie shaking her head while Dean crosses his arms, his shit-eating grin as blindingly bright as the sun. “Fuck you!” I spit, wading in the pool.
Dean’s smile falls, his eyes narrowing. “Eat shit!”
“Blow me!”
He quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his lips ticking. “Like a whistle?”
My lips part, but any retort I had dies on my tongue. Dean’s face turns red from the effort of holding back, and I break first. The laughter that comes from me is so natural and unrestrained, and I don’t even care that the one I’m sharing it with is Dean.
“What?” Jamie asks, looking between us.
Dean shakes his head as he settles his guffaw, telling me, “You tell her.”
“Fuck no. You tell her.”
“What’s so funny?” Jamie whines.
I say, “Dean’s first blowie—”
“Bullshit,” Dean cuts in. “It was your first—”
“No way! You told me—”
“No, it was you! Freshman year, that girl—”
“Enough!” Jamie shouts, and Dean and I hold back a chuckle like the childish dickheads we are. “Both you idiots get dressed. Now!”
Jamie and I go for a walk because she’s banished me from the house while Dean shows it to a client. She says she doesn’t trust me not to get in the way, and maybe that should bother me, but hey… I get more one-on-one time with Jamie.
“You guys are such idiots,” she murmurs, walking beside me.
I shove my hands in my pockets, keep my head down. “You said I should make up with him, so…”
“By throwing him in the pool?”
I chuckle. I can’t help it.
Jamie sighs. After a few minutes of walking in silence, she says, “This is the third time these buyers are looking at the house. The wife is, like, seven months pregnant, so she wants to jump right in. Dean says that they’re really close to making an offer.”
She turns onto a street, and I follow after her. I have no idea where we’re going, and I don’t really care. “What happens after that?”
“I guess we either accept or decline and go from there. Dean says he won’t bring anything to us that’s not even worth looking at, so the fact that he’s mentioned it at all has to mean something, right?” She glances up at me, and I shrug.
The truth is, I’ve had zero input on anything Esme house-related, which is a dick move on my part. “I should’ve been more involved.”
Jamie doesn’t respond. Instead, she leads me through a small alleyway between two houses and takes a left until we get to an empty lot on a slight incline. She walks to the highest point and sits down, facing the houses opposite.
I sit down beside her and wait for her to speak first. It doesn’t take long. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with the money?” she asks, half facing me.
“Pay off my student loans.”
She exaggerates a pout. “Do you regret going to college and not just working with your dad?”
“I try not to think about it,” I groan. Besides everything Jamie related, it’s the only thing in my life I might possibly regret. “What about you?”
“When I got back last week, I went to the bank,” she answers quickly, as if she’s been waiting to tell me. “I went to see if it was at all possible to buy you out—”
“You want Esme’s house?” I cut in. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve given it to you. You can still have it.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I just thought it would be easier if…” she trails off.
My heart sinks, anchored by the weight of disappointment. “If we never had to deal with each other again?”
Jamie shrugs, and I look away because it hurts too much. “I don’t want Esme’s house,” she states. “When she and Wesley bought it, they expected to fill it with a big family. I don’t have that, and I don’t think I ever will.”
“You might,” I assure, but what I want to say is we might. One day.
I don’t know if she even heard me because she says, “It’s too big. Too much maintenance. And I don’t need a pool house or even a pool.” She points across the street, and it’s only now I notice the little clapboard cottage with a For Sale sign out front. It’s half the size of Esme’s, and it reminds me of the house Mom and I had when we lived here.
“You want to buy that?” I ask. “So… what about the RV?” It’s still at the body shop near my house, a whole state away, getting repaired.