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I’m shocked to see color creeping over Corey’s face. I don’t remember ever seeing him look embarrassed by anything, but I’m even more shocked to hear him speak so horribly about himself.
Instinct has me reaching out and grabbing his hand. “You were not a blight, Corey.” I squeeze his fingers until he looks up at me. When he does, I add, “You were smart. And talented. Rose Hill still brags about you going to the Majors on the town’s website.”
“That’s just because old Morty doesn’t know how to update the page.”
I squeeze his fingers again. “Be serious.”
The half-hearted smile falls from Corey’s face.
I continue, “You’ve always been hard on yourself. Harder than anyone else could ever be. You weren’t your dad, Corey. Youaren’tyour dad. And if that’s the reason you ran away from me all those years ago, then my heart breaks for an entirely different reason now.”
I’d thought Corey didn’t want me. I thought he realized he’d made a mistake kissing me, and that he didn’t know how to let me down gently. I thought he ran away to avoid confronting his mistake. But to know the reason he stayed away was because he didn’t think he was good enough kills me. Not just because of the wasted years we both lived, but because nothing could be further from the truth.
Corey Johnson was one of the kindest boys I’d ever met. And if his work with Soup Soul is any indication, he’s grown into one of the kindest men I’ll ever meet.
I blink, and a tear leaks out of the corner of my eye. How does he not know how amazing he is?
Corey rears back, stricken. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“You didn’t. I mean…” I pause and take a deep breath, steadying my emotions. “It’s not your fault. I’m just sad to hear you think so poorly of yourself.”Especially when I used to think you hung the moon.
His thumb caresses my knuckles, soothingly. “I see you still have a big heart.”
I stare at our hands, enjoying the feel of his calloused fingers pressed against my skin. “I guess so.”
“Is there still room for me in it?”
I look up, and I’m ensnared by the sincerity in his expression. I can see he’s nervous by the way he bites the inside of his left cheek and how he holds his breath as he waits for my answer.
“That’s a bold question,” I whisper.
He nods slowly. “Yeah, well… I’ve spent ten years regretting of how things ended between us, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”
Me either.
But there are still some things I need to know.
“So, to be clear, you don’t regret kissing me on prom?”
“No.”
“You just regret running away after it happened?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed away because you thought you weren’t good enough for me?”
He swallows the lump in his throat. “Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now, what?”
“Do you think you’re good enough for me yet?” I brace myself for this conversation to go south—it feels too good to be true.
“No, but I’m determined to try to be.” He maneuvers our hands and laces our fingers together.
Once again, my stomach flutters. “What, exactly, are you saying, Corey?” I can’t leave room for doubt, and I don’t want to read into any implications. I won’t allow this conversation to end without being explicitly clear about what one, or both, of us wants to happen at this point.
