Take a Chance on Me(75)

She picked at a pepperoni on her plate. “So there’s no chance of you staying in Deep Haven?”

“I won’t have a choice in a couple weeks.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“We need to get real about this, Claire. I need community service hours in the worst way. And they just aren’t available here. And after today . . . there’s no clemency for me. I kept thinking that if I just worked hard enough, someday the town—Darek—might forgive me. Or at least stop hating me.”

“No one hates you, Jens. They’re just grieving.”

He looked at her, something so raw in his eyes that she pushed her plate aside, leaned closer to him.

“I don’t hate you.”

He swallowed. “Thank you, Claire. You have no idea . . .” He looked away. “I’ve missed your friendship, you know. The way we used to hang out. You always took me seriously. Seemed to see the real me.”

She touched his hand, unable to stop herself.

He looked down at it. Back to her.

“I still see you, Jens,” she said softly.





I still see you.

Jensen couldn’t escape the way Claire looked at him, the tone of her words; he wanted to drink it all in, let it nourish him. But . . . no, she didn’t really see him. How could she?

Maybe Gibs had been right. He wasn’t guilty of the crime Deep Haven accused him of, but he had darkness in him. He had certainly wanted to turn on Darek today and hurt him.

Really hurt him.

And that scared him. It should scare her, too, if she only knew.

There was more—things inside him that he feared acknowledging. Like the fact that, deep down, he’d been glad that Felicity and Darek weren’t happy. That she’d turned to Jensen for an ear, a friend.

But no, he hadn’t gone as far as to betray Darek physically. To tempt Felicity to destroy her vows. Claire’s apology, her admission, had nearly leveled him, but he could see how she might think . . .

He withdrew his hand from her touch. Got up and walked to the deck railing again. Spied a light glowing from Evergreen Resort, cutting through the twilight.

“What’s the matter, Jens?” Claire followed him to the railing, and he hated how much he needed her there, beside him.

“I . . . I’m not the man you see.”

She said nothing.

“I keep thinking that if I just keep doing the right thing, keep smiling, keep working out my sentence, I’ll break free of all this anger—this hurt—inside.”

“My grandfather says when we try to work out our own redemption, that’s when we find ourselves far from God. Christianity is the only religion that says our works actually do nothing to save us. It’s only our acceptance of grace that makes us whole. We have to draw near to God and let Him do the redeeming.”

Grace. He wasn’t exactly sure what that looked like. As for wholeness . . . he would settle for peace. The kind that allowed him to sleep through the night and look at himself in the mirror in the morning.

“I don’t think there’s any grace for me.” He took a breath. Might as well tell her the truth. “I’m so angry all the time, Claire. And not just at Darek or Deep Haven, but myself. I can’t figure out how to live with what happened. And I feel worse with every hour of service I put in. Like that will bring Felicity back. It’s such a farce. Then I start arguing with myself that it wasn’t my fault, and then . . . then the anger sets in. It’s a cycle I can’t break.”

She stared into the darkness. “You start to see the things you should have done. The ways you should have been more careful. Locked the door. Screamed.”

“Not checked the radio, or maybe gone slower around that turn.”

“Keep reliving the moment when you turned around, and they were right there.”

“When you heard her scream, the sickening thud.”

“When the world started to move in slow motion.”

“And stopped.”

She closed her eyes. “And stopped.”

God isn’t kind. He heard her words, a soft echo inside. Felt them, like a dagger in his soul. No wonder he was angry all the time.

At the touch of Claire’s hand on his, he opened his palm. Folded her fingers into his.

I love you, Claire.

The thought stilled him, froze his breath in his chest.

But with her standing there, the wind stirring up the dark hair around her face, the past seemed so close, so . . . redeemable.

“Thank you for being my friend today.” Oh, how lame. But what else was he supposed to say? I’ve been in love with you since you moved to Deep Haven but I was too scared to tell you? Instead, I dated—even fell in love with—your best friend?