“I have a good friend with an RV,” Pete said. “She’s not pretty, but it sure is nice to have a place to crash on the mountain.”
Cassidy gave him a look that said don’t encourage him.
Pete’s look said what’s the harm?
“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Reeve replied, nodding.
She sensed a zippy, restrained kind of energy radiating from Reeve and wondered about its origin. Pot made him mellow, so it wasn’t that. Had he picked up a new habit in prison? Then, remembering her stepsister begging her to look after him, she tried to be more supportive.
“Aaron’s RV is called Ginny,” Cassidy said, sipping her coffee. “Does your ride have a name yet?”
“Not just yet,” he answered, finishing off his eggs. “I’m waiting for inspiration, you know?” He pushed his plate forward. “You got more coffee?” he asked.
The carafe sat within reach on the counter behind them. There was a slight pause as Pete realized that Reeve expected to be served. “Sure,” Pete said a split second before Cassidy told him to get his own coffee. Pete poured another full cup into Reeve’s mug.
“Eugene seems like a nice town,” Reeve said.
Cassidy understood where this was going now. “We’ve only been here a few weeks, really.” She thought of the boxes still waiting to be unpacked in the garage.
“I hear you’re heading to Costa Rica,” Reeve said.
“Where did you—” she started before realizing that of course Rebecca had told him. “Yes,” she said.
“I’ve always wanted to check that place out,” he said.
“You should,” Cassidy replied. During her sophomore year of college she had completed a semester there and shortly after had added a Spanish minor to her degree. Going to Arenal for her job was like a dream come true.
“And you’re going to San Francisco,” Reeve said to Pete.
Cassidy’s stomach sank.
“I got this idea,” Reeve said, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Why don’t I take care of the place while you’re gone?”
“We have a house sitter,” Cassidy blurted, ignoring the look she felt coming from Pete. She had to put a stop to this, even if it meant lying.
Reeve’s eyes twitched. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said, looking away. “I was just thinking, you know, if you needed help or anything.”
“We’re good,” Cassidy said, her voice sounding high.
“But if you need a place to stay for a couple—” Pete said, then stopped because of the hard squeeze she gave his leg under the table.
“That’d be great!” Reeve said. “I just need to make a few tweaks on the van, you know. I gotta get ready for Burning Man.”
“When’s that?” Cassidy asked, her teeth clenched.
“August twenty-seventh.”
“Okay!” Cassidy said, standing up. She couldn’t sit any longer, and cleared her plate and mug, then came back for Pete’s. He gave her a cowed look. She tried to communicate that he had fucked up royally.
“That was great, thanks,” Reeve said, standing up and stretching his arms wide. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He headed for the door. “Oh, would you mind switching spots in the driveway? I need access to power.”
Pete’s look froze. “Uh, sure, let me just grab my keys.”
After Pete had moved both of their cars to the street—his was now parked several blocks away—Reeve started up his van. A horrible screech filled the air and a thread of white smoke drifted out of the tailpipe.
“C’mon, CeeCee,” Pete said as they watched him ease out of his parking spot. “He needs some support. We’re both leaving in three days. He’ll split then, too.”
Cassidy frowned. “You don’t know him,” she answered.
“Let’s give him a chance,” he said as Reeve pulled into their driveway, grinning.
Cassidy remembered when they all used to go to the beach together as kids: herself, Quinn, Reeve, Rebecca, her dad, and Pamela. Her dad boogie boarded with them, laughing in the waves, shaking his head like a dog after each wipeout. Reeve always wanted to go out farther and farther, but her father said no, that it was too dangerous. One time, he went anyway and the lifeguards had to pull him out of a rip current that was sweeping him out to sea.
“Okay,” she said softly. “But he can’t be alone in the house, okay?” she said, meeting his eyes.
“That’s gonna be awkward,” Pete replied.
“I don’t care,” Cassidy said.
Pete sighed. “Okay, we’ll make it work.”
Reeve slid open the side door of his van to reveal two rows of vinyl seats and bare flooring. He removed a cardboard box with several tools inside and an orange extension cord. “You don’t happen to have a drill, do you?” he asked.
Reeve spent the entire morning hammering and drilling. Cassidy took a shower and dug up her internal frame backpack and carry-on from the jumble of items in their unorganized garage in an attempt to begin preparing for Costa Rica. From the windows through the garage door, she could see Reeve. He was standing on the opposite side of the van, out of view of the house, puffing on something. Cassidy groaned.
After kissing Pete goodbye, Cassidy left him pecking away at his laptop and rode her bike to the University. After a pre-Arenal conference call with her team, she holed up in her tiny office to edit a new paper she was submitting, regarding her Etna work. The day melted away. When she finally realized it was after five o’clock, she closed her laptop and stretched her fingers, anticipating a nice evening kicking back with Pete. Then she remembered that Reeve would be there. Overcome with dread, she pedaled home.
Reeve lounged on a rusty lawn chair in their backyard, chatting on a cell phone.
“How’d it go?” Cassidy asked, eyeing Reeve warily.
“Fine,” Pete replied. She had a feeling he hadn’t moved from his spot at the table for most of the day, except to change his clothes. The day, which had started out cool had quickly warmed, and her office had been like a
