“Hugh? Who the hell is Hugh? I’ll kick his ass.”
The sound of Sutton’s laughter fills the car and casts a balmy salve over my heart.
“Not Hugh.You.” She emphasizes this remark by jabbing a finger into my biceps.
“Wait, what?”
Well, fuck all.I’m the biggest asshole in the history of all assholes.
Because for the second time in my life when it comes to Sutton, I fail to have any recollection of this kiss or when it even happened.
The delay in my response is obvious, and Sutton bites down on her bottom lip in a nervous gesture.
“You don’t remember it, do you?”
I could lie. Pretend that’s not the case, that I do remember kissing her silly because she’s so beautiful and wonderful, and the kiss meant everything to me.
But it’s not the truth.
“Button. . .”
She heaves a heavy sigh and then lets out a self-deprecating, half-hearted laugh.
“It’s just my luck. I thought that was the case, but I wasn’t one hundred percent certain. It happened the day of Mel’s funeral. My mom and I had stayed behind to help Granny clean up the kitchen after everyone left, and I went upstairs to say goodbye to you when I heard you making distressing noises. I knocked on Mel’s bedroom door, but you didn’t answer, so I walked in to see what was going on.”
My breath hitches at this memory, a dull ache throbbing in my chest that I rub my palm over in the hope it’ll go away.
“As I entered, I noticed you sitting on the floor in her closet. I sat down next to you, telling you over and over again it was okay. That Melodie was in a better place then.”
Vaguely I can picture it, the view from the floor of Mel’s closet, the bottle of Jim Beam in my hand, my knees drawn up to my chin, and Mel’s open diary laid out next to me.
The secrets it had told me about Mel’s life after I went away to school. Her loneliness and pain.
And the pain she survived but remained scarred with from my stepfather’s abusive hands.
It tore me open that day, and I bled out.
After that, I was just a shell of a man.
Realizing Sutton hasn’t finished telling her story, I break through the silence that crept in over us and say, “I know I was drunk out of my mind. Obliterated from both my loss and the booze.”
She nods, a bit of consolation and agreement. “I knew that. I smelled the whiskey and saw the half-empty bottle next to you. At that moment, I understood what you felt. What the devastating ripple effects of Mel’s death would have on us. And all I wanted to do was take away your pain and provide some level of comfort.”
A harsh thought races through my head, my heart pounding as fast as a speeding train. A lump of bile rises in the back of my throat, and I swallow it down like a bitter, acidic pill.
“Oh fuck, Button. Did I. . . I didn’t come on to you, did I?”
A look of shock and repugnance crosses her face and colors her eyes a deep, forest green.
“Because that would’ve been so terrible if you did, Miles?”
We near a gas station and I immediately whip the car into the parking lot, finding the closest spot to park and turn off the engine.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I maneuver to face her, reaching to cup her face, turning her to face me, so there is no confusion what I mean.
“Sutton, nothing about being with you would ever be terrible. But you were seventeen—"
“Almost eighteen,” she interjects with such force that I have to hide my smile for fear she might slap it right off my face.
