Page 79 of Five Stolen Rings
I wish I could do more. I feel so stupid picking up books from Mr. Mackie’s floor or shards of dishes from my kitchen counter when there are people across town whose entire lives have shattered.
I return to my own apartment after I finish helping Mr. Mackie. Part of me worries about being on the second floor after an earthquake, but I only have the capacity to be anxious about so many things; if my building collapses, I’m going to have to accept that it was my time to go. So I flop down on my secondhand couch and let my head rest back against the cushion.
I’ve been up since four this morning, and it feels like I’ve cried more in the last ten hours than in the last year of my life. I would love nothing better than to go to sleep. When my eyes flutter closed on their own, I let them; I’ve almost completely drifted off when my phone rings.
My hand thumps around blindly on the sofa next to me, searching for the phone; when I answer, my voice is groggy.
“Hello?” I say.
“Stella?”
My eyes flicker open as my brows furrow; it’s a man speaking, someone I don’t quite recognize.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Who is this?”
“Are you okay?” the man says instead, his voice tight,anxious. “The earthquake—you’re okay? You’re good? Are you hurt?”
My frown deepens. “I’m fine,” I say, and I hear a sigh of relief from the other end.
“Good,” the man’s voice says. “Stay safe, okay?” It’s not a request; it’s a demand. “Please.”
“Who is?—”
But the line goes dead, and when I check the number, it’s listed as blocked.
I don’t hear from the man again.
But I never stop wondering who he was.
STELLA
For someone who claims to be afraid of relationships, Jack sure has jumped on board fast.
“No,” he says when I pull my hand out of his. He reaches out and grabs me again, shivering against the snowy cold as we walk. “Come back.”
I rub my stomach, groaning. “I ate too much.” Then I add, “My parents’ house is just up there.” I point with our joined hands. “They’ll see us if we walk up holding hands. My mom is probably watching out the window as it is. Are you okay with that?”
I didn’t realize I was a hand-holder, but I totally am. Maybe it’s because Jack has nice hands, or maybe it’s because I’ve seen what they can do. They hold me close; they apply Band-Aids when I’m hurt; they twine into my hair when we kiss. Either way, his fingers laced with mine is a sensation I don’t think I’ll tire of any time soon.
“I’m okay with anyone seeing,” Jack says with an easyshrug. He hesitates and then goes on, “Did you miss the part about how much I like you? Or did I unknowingly give the impression that I wanted to keep this secret?”
I don’t let myself smile. “No,” I say. “I just wanted to make sure.”
He only nods like he understands, inhaling deeply and then letting his breath out as he looks at our clasped hands.
“I guess I can admit I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything.” He squeezes my hand and then glances back up at me. “Is thisokay?”
I stop, and he stops with me.
“What do you mean?” I say with a little frown.
“Imean…” he says, “I don’t know.” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and doesn’t look at me as he goes on. “Is it okay to have something I’ve always denied myself?”
The disbelieving snort that escapes me is far from ladylike. “I’m not athingyou’ve denied yourself,” I say. “I’m a person.”
“I know that,” he says, rolling his eyes—I can just see it in the yellow-orange light of the street lamp. “But I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve forced myself not to act on my feelings. All the way back in high school, I wasn’t allowing myself to say what I wanted to say or do what I wanted to do. It sort of feels like giving in now that I’m standing here holding your hand.”
“You’re not giving in,” I say as Billy Joel runs through my head—She never gives out, and she never gives in—she just changes her mind. “You’re changing your mind.”
