A darkness passes through her eyes when she says that, and I can’t help but gently touch her hand. “I’m sorry you met such shitty people, June.”
“Point is, it took me almost eighteen years to see that there’s good in this world. To find decent people that actually care about me.” She takes my hand in hers and stares at me with an intensity that almost scares me, the reality of what this kid must have gone through to have a gaze so haunted for all of her nineteen years. “You’ve always had them in your life, Andrew, so much so that, to me, it seems you’ve started taking it for granted.”
“June—” I begin to protest, only to be cut off.
“I’m not saying you didn’t see terrible things. That you didn’t go through awful experiences. You were at war, so of course, you did.” She sits next to me and takes a deep breath. “I’m not trying to be cruel, but Claire and your mom, Gabe, even Phoebe—they care about you. They want to help you, and you won’t let them. I know how hard it is to open up and trust that people will still accept you and love you after they know the truth, but eventually, you’re going to have to. And frankly? They never gave you a reason to think they won’t.”
“That’s deep for a nineteen-year-old,” I observe.
“I’m nineteen going on ninety.” June shrugs with a wry smile. “So, what got you so gloomy?”
“I almost kissed Phoebe,” I explain, and June just blinks at me with a blank stare. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a bit of a mess.”
“I still fail to see what got you in a funk,” she answers with that same blank look.
“I can’t take care of her, Junie, not like she deserves. My gut is screaming at me that if I just go for it, jump head-first into the deep end, she’ll take the leap with me.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “But I can’t trust my gut instinct, not anymore, and Phoebe… I can’t lose her.”
“So, instead of taking a chance, you prefer to avoid it altogether?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“You sound like Phoebe,” I point out, running my palm up my face and over my hair.
“I take that as the highest of compliments,” June declares, standing and glaring at me. “You’ve been surrounded by people who love you your entire life. I know you took a blow, and it’s difficult, but start focusing on the former rather than the latter.”
“Thanks for the tea, Juniper.” I toast her with the mug before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome, Andrew,” she replies with a bright smile, turning on her heels and leaving me to stew on her advice until my phone rings.
“Hey, Phoebs,” I answer distractedly, still immersed in my thoughts.
“Hey, on my way to the town square,” she informs me.
“Okay. I’m in Gabe’s office. I’ll be on the bench outside.”
“Sounds good.”
I wait outside for no more than five minutes before she arrives, high-rise capri jeans and a red loose crop top paired with white graffiti sneakers and large sunglasses, her hair in a simple side-braid with strands hanging loose.
“Still a bit too city, but better,” I tease her, and Phoebe glares at me over the rims of her shades with a smirk.
“You small-town folk will just have to deal with my big city chic,” she retorts, turning her back on me and walking toward the market.
“I’m kidding, you look great,” I call after her, jogging to catch up.
“And you seem to have gotten over the little awkward moment earlier,” she observes.
“Yeah. June knocked some sense into me,” I admit.
“I like that girl.” Phoebe laughs. “You don’t look too battered, though.”
“Not everyone has two black belts and an instructor diploma in self-defense, Curls.” I give her a side glance, wondering if she still does martial arts.
“Four,” she corrects me, giving me my answer.
“How does that even happen?” I gape at her. “I know you were already training for them five years ago, but between law school and working your ass off in a giant law firm, when did you find the time?”
“I had plenty of anger to work through after you left. I burned a lot of hours on the mat.” She shrugs.
“Still.”
“I kept training in Goju Ryo, which I guess technically makes it only three since that’s also karate, though very different from Shotokan.” Phoebe ponders. “And I’ve also been training in Capoeira. Keeps me limber.”
“It’s been a while since I trained,” I confess, remembering the focus a good karate session can give you, and possibly trying to veer the conversation away from the thought of Phoebe and ways to examine her well-maintained flexibility.
“Is there a gym or a studio we can spar in?” Phoebe wonders, walking up to the first stall selling various baked goods.
“Hey, Dalia,” I greet the stall owner, a short and skinny woman in her forties. “I’m not sparring with you, I don’t have a death wish.”
“Hi Dalia, I’m Phoebe. What’s good?” Phoebe asks, ignoring my statement.
“You’re the city girl?” Phoebe nods. “Well, you’re not as haughty-toity as I imagined.”
“Uh, thanks?” Phoebe turns a bewildered stare to me, but I’m too busy suppressing my laughter, which only causes me to snort like a dork.
“Everything tastes good, New York. Just choose whatever tickles your fancy.” Dalia glares at Phoebe with challenge in her eyes. “I promise it’s better than anything you’ve had in your life.”
“I feel attacked,” Phoebe whispers, pouting a bit at my silent laughter.
“Give us half a dozen white-chocolate-peach macaroons and a box of those delicious lemon squares, Dalia darling.” I wink, and Dalia seems to physically melt a bit. Now it’s Phoebe’s turn to snort.
“Such a charmer.” She rolls her eyes once we’re away from Dalia’s stall.
“It worked on you,” I remind her with a grin.
“And, like the foot rub, the magic wore off.” She raises her eyebrows in a contest.
“I feel like you’re daring me to charm your pants off,” I scoff. “Pun unintended. I think.”
“I, on the other hand, still fluster you,” she declares. Grinning in triumph, Phoebe then walks over to Harry’s stall to inspect his selection of cheeses.
“It seems so,” I chuckle. Stepping close to her, so her back is almost touching my chest, I lean down to whisper in her ear, “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter Thirteen
Phoebe
“I’m in trouble,” I declare to my computer screen after the girls respond to my SOS text.
“Are you pregnant?” Trista squeals with alarm.
“What? No! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve even had sex?”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Zoe points out, and I flip her off. “What kind of trouble, then?”
“I may have inadvertently challenged Andy to seduce me,” I explain, glowering at my best friends when they burst into hysterical laughter. “It’s not funny!”