Page 32 of The Arrangement

Yeah, that shit only happened in the books I read. The truth was, when I fell for someone, I fell fast and I fellhard. And Marc? He’d been walking around with my number for years. It had been a lowkey crush at first. I was past pretending that now. I was completely gone for the ridiculously adorable florist, with his pretty eyes, quick wit, and bright smile. God help me, he might be the one who finally broke me for good.

“You know we don’thaveto go shopping today?” Marc said, glancing at me with concern from the driver’s seat.

“What makes you think I don’t want to go?” I responded, working harder to get my pity party under control.

He frowned, clearly not buying it. “Because you look like you’re being subjected to dental surgery.”

I barked a laugh. “Why isthatthe first thing that comes to mind?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking thoughtful. “You know, I don’t know. Is it the food? I know we haven’t made it to McSharry’s, but Iswearwe will.”

I reached across the console to squeeze his leg. “I know. It’s not the food. Was just thinking about the future,” I admitted cautiously, then removed my hand.

“Yeah? Anything in particular?”

“I got another email from my CO.” I looked down at my lap and picked at my cuticles. Admitting that was like walking into a minefield blindfolded to hit a piñata. My CO was understandablygetting impatient. I'd never taken this long to turn in my reenlistment paperwork.

“Your CO? What for?” The light we’d stopped at changed from red to green, and we went a few car lengths before he did a double-take. “Holy shit! Are you due to re-up?”

I nodded, unable to bring myself to say it out loud, not trusting what might come out of my mouth. At this point, it’d be a coin toss between begging him to let me stay and blurting that I’d already gone and fallen for him. Wow, could I be any more pathetic? And now the crease between his eyebrows was back.

“Look, I know I’ve made my position on the Army pretty clear, but I hope you know you could still talk to me. If you wanted an unbiased sounding board, I wouldn’t try to sway you one way or the other.”

Except I did want a biased sounding board, and that was the problem. “Thanks, Marc. That… I appreciate the offer.”

He frowned as he turned into the impeccable Brennity Retirement Community. Before I knew it, we’d pulled into a parking spot, he’d slammed on the brakes, and shifted the car into park. He was staring out the front window and breathing heavily when he finally said, “You appreciate it, but you won’t take me up on it.” He paused a beat and turned to look at me with anger burning in his eyes. “Do I have that right?” He gripped the steering wheel so hard that for a second I thought he might try to rip it off. “Is it because you don’t trust me not to be biased, or that you think I can’t handle it?”

I gaped at him. What the hell was going on? “Neither.”

He scoffed and muttered, “Un-fucking-real.” Then he pushed open the door and grabbed the bags of food from the back. “I’m taking these to Aunt Petunia. I’m sure you can find your way.” He slammed the back door and was gone before I could even think to un-click my seatbelt.

In my haste to get out of the car, I got tangled in the belt when it wouldn’t retract fast enough, which caused me to trip over the curb while trying to regain my balance. “Goddamn it.” I glanced up at a shocked gasp to see a young mom with her toddler and elderly father, and winced. “Sorry, ma’am, sir.” They still didn’t look too happy, but at least they didn’t dress me down.

I nearly forgot to sign in with the concierge at the front and had to keep leaning back to monitor Marc through the glass doors. Damn, he wasn’t even running, and he’d covered some major ground. How on earth was I going to catch up with him?

“Sir.”

I looked back at the concierge, with his raised eyebrows, and down at where I’d signed in… or tried to. With a groan, I stopped trying to watch Marc and focused on signing in properly. By the time I finally got outside, he’d doubled the distance. Thank fuck for my long ass legs was all I had to say.

I ate up ground as fast as I could without breaking into a sprint, beaming a smile at anyone who looked at me. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t caught up to Marc before he got to his Aunt Petunia’s cottage. Nor did I catch what the older woman in the hot pink tracksuit outside her door said to him. However, I did catch his response and her shocked expression before he let himself into his aunt’s place.

“Nobody gives a shit, Barbra Jean.”

By the time I made it to the door, Barbra Jean was stomping off in a huff, Aunt Petunia was waiting in the doorway, and Marc was heading out the back of the cottage. Either Aunt Petunia was a mind reader, or my distress was written plain as day on my face. Honestly, I wouldn’t rule out either.

“Hey there, honey. Why don’t you come on in and fix yourself a nice tall glass of iced tea?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied by rote, stepping up to kiss the side of her thin cheek before moving inside. I couldn’t saywhyI did it.I’d certainly never done anything like that withmyfamily. Only that it felt right.

She followed my gaze to where I could see Marc pacing and talking on his phone through the sliding door. “Try not to let it get to you, honey.” She patted my arm and led me to the modest table that already held the bags of food along with glasses filled with ice, a pitcher of tea, plates, and utensils. “Sometimes he’s like a Mimosa pudica–a humble plant,” she elaborated. “One touch and he curls up. It can take a while to get him to unfurl again, but he eventually does.”

Okay, yeah, I’d seen that, but this… wasn’t that. I poured myself some tea, but couldn’t bring myself to drink it. “I don’t know what I did.” That was maybe not the whole truth. I had an inkling.

“Oh, honey. JD,” she said, placing a wrinkled hand still filled with strength on my arm, “odds are you did nothing at all. Yes, sometimes he’s like a humble plant, then he has his moments where he gets a bee in his bonnet and there’s nothing for it but to let it work itself out. When he gets like this, typically only his sister can talk him down. At least he’s gotten better at recognizing when it’s happening and distancing himself instead of digging deeper and letting it consume him.”

“Shit. That sounds… awful. I don’t know how to ask this without sounding crass or indelicate, but has he considered medication? That’s got to be better than dealing with that.”

She nodded sagely and began fixing all three plates. “He has, and we’ve encouraged him. Not his father, mind you, but the rest of us. But he’s convinced himself that if he takes medication, then it means he’s,” she paused and shrugged her shoulders as if she still couldn’t understand, “broken. Or worse, that it will ‌change who he is.” I was trying to process that bomb when she shot me an all too familiar look.