Page 59 of The Romance Line
“Economic forces played a role in the progress of navigation, and in this lesson we’ll explore?—”
Fuck.
I hit end faster than I bat a puck out of the crease. I don’t want Everly to hear what I was listening to on the drive over to the restaurant earlier. It’s too personal.
She turns to me for the first time since she got in the car, tilting her head. “What’s that?” It’s asked with amusement.
“Just a class,” I mutter as the light ahead turns red. Great. My wish is finally granted when I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want her to know this about me.
“The class you’ve been taking?” she prompts. “You mentioned it in the weight room.”
Shit. I did. “Yeah. That’s the one.” Maybe the less I say, the more she’ll get the message.
Her mouth softens. “What’s it on? I was curious.”
“It’s on navigational tools,” I say.
And she’s not getting the message at all. She’s too interested in this detail about me since she asks, “Are you into cartography or something?”
I snap my gaze to her, my jaw ticking. “Are you going to use this somehow? In this image makeover?”
“No,” she says, almost offended. I expected her to sound annoyed, but she sounds…disappointed actually. “I was curious. About you, Max. I didn’t ask for any other reason.”
Shit. I swallow uncomfortably. But the whole topicisuncomfortable. “Sorry. I thought…”
I don’t finish since she knows what I thought—that I didn’t trust her with this information.
“Yeah. I know what you thought,” she says sadly, then turns her head subtly toward the window. Like she’s giving me space as she gazes into the inky night sky.
Do I want space? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. No, that’s not true. I know what I want—her. But I know, too, it’s a bad idea to do a damn thing about that wish.
At least I can give her the truth though. I blow out a breath as I grip the wheel and I glance at the woman beside me, her face aglow with the lights of the city after dark.
“It’s an online class offered by a local university. I listen to it. Been taking this one since the start of the season. It’s selfish really. Why I take it,” I say.
“Why do you take it then?”
I picture my grandfather, the last few years of his life, but especially the last few months. How he wasn’t himself any more. He was a man without history, without a family, without memories. He was a shell of who he’d been. “My grandfather had dementia. It led to his death a year ago,” I say, and the light changes mercifully. Good. It’s easier to share this awful story when I don’t have to look at her. “I spent time with him whenever I could get to Seattle. Sometimes I took him to his appointments. One time, he was in pretty bad shape when I took him to his neurologist. And when he was with the nurse doing labs, I got a chance to be alone with the doctor. And I jumped on it,” I say, and I’m not entirely proud of this moment, but at the time, I was roiled with fear. I’d seen the future, and it was awful. I felt like Ihadto make it about me. “I selfishly asked if there was anything I could do to prevent dementia.”
“That’s not selfish,” she says, her voice strong and passionate. “That’s smart.”
“I don’t know. It was kind of a dick move. It washisappointment. Not mine.”
“But that’s proactive. That’s wise to ask a doctor. It’s wise to think about itnow,” she says, and maybe she’s right. But what’s done is done.
“Anyway, he told me there are no guarantees. There’s no cure. But if he could offer me any advice for brain health it’s that the three keys are ‘exercise, socialize, and memorize,’” I say as I cruise along the street, climbing a slight hill. “Of course, that’s just hopeful advice, he’d said. There’s no medical proof that anything can prevent memory loss, but those things could possibly help. I figured I’ve already got the exercise part aced, so it can’thurt to keep working on my brain,” I admit, telling her something I don’t really reveal to anyone.
“I’m sorry about the loss. And what he went through. And you,” she says with sympathy. “That must have been so hard for everyone.”
Apparently now that I’ve started sharing I can’t stop. A valve has loosened in me, so I add, “And maybe this makes me a selfish dick too, but what happened to him? It’s my greatest fear,” I admit. Maybe even more so than trusting someone else. The only person I know for certain I can trust is me. But what if I lose myself someday? The thought makes me shudder. “I hope I can have a different fate. A different future. So that’s why I try to do those things.”
“Socialize?” she asks with a quirk in her lips, playfully busting me. “Youlike to socialize?”
“With friends,” I say sternly. “Don’t get any ideas about me being a social butterfly.”
She holds up her hands. “I would never. The memorize part though. Does that mean you do the class, memorize the info, and then take tests?”
“Yep,” I say with a laugh. “I take a quiz every week. Like I’m in school again.”