Page 18 of On the Way to You

He nodded, and though I hadn’t told him anything, he seemed to understand everything I didn’t want to say.

Emery ordered a Tom Collins at the bar, making sure he got me a water with it, before leading us right into the middle of the slot machines.

“Okay, pick your poison,” he said, eyeing the machines as we walked.

I laughed. “I don’t really gamble, either.”

“Not for you,” he said quickly. “For me. Pick a machine.”

I chewed my lip, nose scrunched as I surveyed the options. I spotted a vacant one a few rows away with a big screen above it, all with boxes wrapped like birthday presents. There were streamers and party poppers and cartoon people dancing all over the screen, and I pointed to it with a shrug.

“That one looks fun.”

He followed my finger until he found the machine I’d pointed out, then he nodded, guiding us toward it and pulling over a spare barstool so I could sit beside him. Emery slipped in a twenty-dollar bill and the machine sprang to life, a loud, goofy voice yelling out a welcome to us.

He pushed the button for max bet, eyes on the spinning lines of the screen. “You don’t get along with your parents,” he said, and the machine dinged with a prize half of what he’d bet. He hit the button again.

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “They’re not really parents, honestly. More like roommates.”

“Were they pissed that you left?”

A dry laugh left my lips. “They didn’t even notice.”

He looked at me for a long moment, but I kept my eyes on the screen, watching as he won three dollars thanks to a line of party streamers. He tapped the button again, watching the screen with me.

“What about you,” I asked. “Are you close with your parents?”

“No,” he answered easily. “Not because they’re bad people. They’re actually pretty perfect,” he admitted, like he hated that fact. “But I’m not really close with anyone.”

“By choice or circumstance?”

“Both.” The machine punctuated his sentence with a sad horn. He lost that bet. “I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with.”

“So, there’s no one you’re close with, then?”

“Not anymore.”

I waited for him to continue, to tell me whatnot anymoremeant, but he just sipped on his drink, finger tapping at the max bet button again.

“That mean there used to be someone you were close with?”

Emery paused, eyes flicking over to mine before adjusting back on the screen. “My Grams.”

I nodded, heart in my throat as the first page of his journal flashed in my memory, along with our conversation earlier in the car.

“What was she like?”

He smiled a little, even though the twenty he’d put in the machine was now down to six dollars and seventy-two cents. “She was quiet, and kind. She listened a lot, not just to people but to the world around her.” He looked at me then. “You remind me of her.”

“I do?”

Emery nodded. “This is it, last bet.” He jerked his head toward the machine. “I think you should take the last spin.”

He was changing the subject, and I let him, closing my eyes and sticking my tongue out as I popped the plastic button with a flat palm. “Big money, no whammies!” I yelled.

Emery bit back a smile, curious eyes watching me instead of the machine.

I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”