“Doesn’t it though? She left. My dad spent the rest of his life waiting for her to change her mind. And I...” I stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence.
“And you what?”
“And I’ve spent my whole life trying to be useful enough that people won’t leave me again.” The words came out raw, honest. In fact, it was an epiphany I’d never had before. A part of myself that I’d never really wanted to look at. “The brothers, the garage, this whole town. I made myself indispensable so that I’d always have a place. So that I’d never be the one left behind again.”
My chest ached with the realisation that this was why I’d turned my life into what it was.
Leigh’s eyes were shining. “Is that what you think? That they only keep you around because you’re useful?”
“Sometimes.”
“Dex.” She cupped my face in her hands. “They love you because you’re you. Not because of what you can do for them. Just like I…” She stopped, caught herself. “I wish you could see yourself the way that everyone else does.”
“Just like you what?” I asked, my mind fixing on those three small words and the implication behind them.
She looked away. “Nothing. Just... you need to know you’re more than what you can provide. You’re worth loving just for being yourself.”
I wanted to ask what she’d almost said. Wanted to push. But the moment felt fragile, like if I pressed too hard it might shatter.
“I do the same thing,” she said quietly. “Stay on the outside. Keep myself from getting too close. Because if I’m always the one on the periphery, it doesn’t hurt as much when people move on.”
“Is that what you’re doing with us? Keeping yourself on the periphery?”
“I was trying to. But it’s not working.” She looked back at me, and her eyes were full of something that made my chest ache. “I’m already in too deep, Dex. And that terrifies me.”
“Me too.” I pulled her closer. “But maybe we can be terrified together.”
“That’s not how fear works.”
“Sure it is. Everything’s less scary when you’re not facing it alone.”
She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Terrified together.”
“And hey,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “At least we have until August to figure this out.”
Something flickered across her face. Pain, maybe, or resignation. “August. Right.”
“Leigh…”
“I don’t want to think about August right now.” She kissed me, soft at first then deeper. “Can we just have today? Please? And then maybe all the days in between?”
She was so cute. I couldn’t help but grin against her lips before I kissed her again.
I knew we were avoiding the conversation. Knew that August was coming whether we wanted to think about it or not.
But when she was kissing me like that, her hands in my hair, her body pressed against mine, I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything except this moment.
“Yeah,” I murmured against her lips. “We can have every single day you want to have.”
We ended up in my bedroom. Not rushed, not desperate, but slow and deliberate. Taking our time to learn each other. To memorize the sounds she made, the places that made her gasp, the way she said my name when I touched her just right.
Afterward, she lay curled against my side, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, painting everything in gold, and I felt more content than I had in years.
More content than I maybe ever had.
“This is nice,” she murmured, half-asleep.
“Yeah?”
