“I want it. I want it with you, Peaches.” He unplugs the electric guitar and puts it in its case.
“Flynn, can I talk to you for a minute?” Cadence asks.
I turn to walk back to the table, but Flynn snags my wrist to stop me.
“Sorry, Nadia and I have to run to another thing. We’ll catch you later.” He looks at me. “Will you grab our jackets? I’ll get the amp.” He makes it sound like we’re in a big rush.
“It’s pretty important. Can I call you? I don’t think I ever got your number.”
What the f? Now that Flynn’s sanctioned my jealousy, I’m fully annoyed.
I grab Flynn’s phone from the table, along with both our jackets, and leave money to pay my bill.
As I do, Flynn continues to shut Cadence down. “Hey, maybe you can talk to Lake about it, yeah? I’m with Nadia now.”
Oof. That comment landed hard. In fact, Cadence’s face turns red, and the look she sends me is full of venom.
Flynn turns his attention on me and holds out his arm. He has his amp and guitar in hand, and he tucks me against his free side. “Bye, Dad, bye guys,” he calls over his shoulder as we strut out.
“Whew,” he says when we get outside. “That was a close one.”
I laugh. “You created that monster, you know.”
“Totally. My bad. But I haven’t been with anyone since you. You know that, right?”
I nod, happiness sprinkling down on me like gold and pink shimmery fairy dust. “I haven’t, either,” I say even though that’s beyond obvious, and we both laugh.
“Come on.” Flynn hustles me toward the van. “I think we need another sex re-education session, don’t you?”
“Oh definitely.” My internal muscles contract and release at the mere mention of it. “I plan on rewarding you for that song.”
Flynn’s boyish grin is pure joy.
So bright and buoyant that it lifts me from my feet, and I float all the way to the van.
Nadia
On Thursday, I’m still at Flynn’s house. I’ve slept there four out of seven nights this week, and it’s starting to feel more like home than the Kremlin.
We’re about to head over to the Kremlin for rehearsal when Flynn gets a call from his mom.
“Hey mom. What?”
I immediately see by the tension in his face that something’s wrong.
The boyish expression he usually wears is replaced by a more haunted quality. “No, of course. Where are you? Send me the pin. Okay, I’ll be right there, Mom.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“My mom has been in a car accident.” A deep line etches his brow as he throws on his leather jacket and grabs his keys.
I scramble to do the same.
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know. She said she’s uninjured, but she was also bawling, so I couldn’t tell. I think she’s just upset.” He stares at his phone when her text comes in and opens the map.
“She’s not that far. Do you mind coming along?”
“Of course not. Are you kidding? Flynn, it’s your mom.”
When we get in the van, he calls Story. “Hey, Mom got in a car accident. I’m going over there.”
I hear the alarmed tones of Story’s voice from the other end, and he tells her the same thing he told me about her being uninjured by upset.
“I’ll keep you posted,” he promises and hangs up.
A heaviness descends in the van. “Are you worried?” I ask.
“A little. But I think she’s probably all right.”
I chew on that. It’s almost like Flynn’s getting ready to match his mother’s emotional level. Is this his gift for dealing with distraught women?
When we get to the site of the accident, it becomes evident that it was just a fender-bender. A cop is there taking down the info from the other party.
Flynn wraps his mother up in a silent hug, and then they just stand there together, enmeshed.
Something twists in my belly, but I’m not quite sure what it’s about. Something bothers me about this scene. It’s a little too familiar.
He’s a caretaker–that’s what Cadence had said about him.
Once more, I’m wondering if taking care of me was just something he’s good at, not necessarily something that’s good for him.
Maybe I’m dragging him down the way his mom is. Making him lower his energy level, dim his brightness, mute his joy for the sake of matching someone he cares about.
I absolutely hate the idea.
In fact, it destroys me.
I back up until my butt hits the parked van and blink back tears in my eyes. Of course, that’s when his mom spots me.
“Flynn! You brought a friend.”
Flynn releases her, and she hurries over to me to pick up and squeeze my gloved hand. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she’s as warm as the sun. “Hi honey. I’m Monica, Flynn’s mom.”
“I’m Nadia.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sweetie. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt if you two were doing something. I just didn’t want to be here alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Flynn reassures her. And she’s definitely not. She has Flynn. Ready and willing to walk 500 miles for her.
Because that’s who he is. And that’s amazing.
But I don’t want to be her for him.
And I fear I am.
Flynn
Nadia is quiet on the drive to the Kremlin, but I can’t seem to ferret out why.
We waited forty minutes with my mom until the cop finished writing her the ticket, and her car got towed, and then we dropped her at home.
“Everything okay?” I ask for the third time.
Nadia sends me a weak smile. “Yes. Your mom is sweet, and you’re a good son. I can see why you and Story are such kind people.”
Huh. That doesn’t explain her reticence.
“But?” I prompt.