“I’m not so sure. Like I said, me and your G’ma worried about you and Amber and how your parents leavin’ you both behind would affect you.”
Surprised at the pain flooding through him at the mention of their abandonment, he got up from the sofa. “Why are you bringin’ that up again? I don’t have any recollection of them. I was too young.”
“But you knew they were gone and not comin’ back.”
He swallowed, unable to look at Senior.
“And those girls you dated. Did you ever think maybe you knew ahead of time things wouldn’t work out?”
He spun around. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Ask the wrong woman out, you get the rejection over with right quick. Then it don’t hurt so bad.” He got up and left, leaving Rusty to ponder his words until it was time to pick up Harper.
Did he date the wrong girls on purpose? Senior liked to watch this psychology guy’s show in the afternoons, even though Rusty thought the doc was a quack, and this sounded like some kind of mumbo jumbo that doctor would say.
Then he thought about Sabrina, the girl he’d asked out in high school. She’d mentioned more than once that she’d had a crush on the tuba player in the Maple Falls band. And the woman with the boyfriend. Hadn’t she told him from the start that they didn’t have to go through with the date if he didn’t want to?
Rusty fast-forwarded to the other doomed date he’d been on, and it was the same thing. The girl was unavailable. Yethe’d still gone out with her. He’d asked them all out. And when they rejected him, it hurt for a bit. But that was his ego talking. Not his heart.
Standing in front of him now, Harper’s cheeks flushed, and she stared down at her bunny slippers. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she drew in a deep breath and said, “Can we wait on supper for a few minutes? I need to talk to you.”
He tried not to let his mind go to Rejection City again, although it was hard not to. He nodded and followed her into the living room. They sat down; she perched at the edge of the chair. She tugged on the hem of her sweater. “I owe you an apology, Rusty.”
Here we go.He stayed in place, though, and let her speak.
“I’ve made so many mistakes I don’t know where to start.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“The auction, for one. I shouldn’t have pressured you to go. I was sure that you would have a good time, though, once you were there. And you might have if it weren’t for me.” She was stretching out the band of the sweater but didn’t seem to notice. “You might have found... someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“Someone to date. But I ruined it by letting Brielle get to me.”
He listened as she explained how Brielle had sabotaged her business. “When she started bidding for you, I couldn’t let her win.”
“Because she’s done you wrong,” he said, hope slipping fast away.
“No. Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you two together.”
He shook his head. “That would never happen. She ain’t my type.”
“Who is your type?”
Rusty ran his suddenly damp palms over his brown trousers. Without realizing it, she had opened the door. But could he walk through it? Could he stand the agony if she didn’t feel the same way? If she told him she wanted to be friends, it would rip his heart out.
But if he didn’t say anything, he would be okay. They would enjoy the evening—as friends—and then it would be over.
He wouldn’t have to risk anything.
“Rusty?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
He gazed at her, taking in her makeup-free face, the strands of hair falling out of her bun, even the small food stain on the front of her sweater that he was positive she hadn’t noticed yet.
She’s worth it.
“You, Harper,” he said, barely able to breathe.
