Work went by fast. It was nearly a week before Halloween, and the leaves had hit their peak in Western North Carolina. Tourists were in town by the droves, and Magnolia was packed as a result. I ended up staying late to help Sasha and Kayla close up.
The first thing I did when the door was locked and the lights were off was check my phone. Still nothing from Bonnie.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Then I checked the time. 12:38 a.m.
It was late, but I could go over to her house. I knew her well enough to know that she’d probably be awake.
Mind made up, I slid my phone in my pocket and took the stairs up to my apartment two at a time. I’d change clothes and drive over, see if we could talk things out. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with me, I didn’t want it to end like this. I cared about her, probably more than was wise, and I couldn’t stand the thought of those being the final words between us. That the lastthing I ever did where Bonnie was concerned was to make her cry.
I was halfway up the flight of stairs before I registered the figure sitting at the top. My steps slowed, and my heart picked up at the sight of her blond head bent over a book on her lap. Regret settled in my middle alongside stark relief. She’d come. Bonnie hadn’t written me off just yet.
She wore black sweatpants and an ancient college sweatshirt, fuzzy clogs on her feet. Her hair was pulled into a tiny knot on the top of her head.
At my shuffling steps, Bonnie lifted her head and met my gaze. Without looking away, she tucked a bookmark between the pages of her book and set it behind her on the landing.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I echoed, feeling shamefaced and heartsick all over again.
“I was already in panda mode when I decided to come over, and I didn’t want to change,” she explained, like that made any sense.
I closed the distance between us and sat next to her on the top step. “What is panda mode?”
“It’s when I wear my most comfortable clothing and let myself relax. Usually, there are snacks involved, and I don’t answer the phone. Laziness personified. A personal recharge. Unfortunately, you get the basic factory settings at the moment. No makeup or hair products. Just me. Although halfway over, I realized I probably should have put on a bra. Alas.”
“Alas,” I agreed, fighting a smile. “I’m glad you came. You didn’t need to sit here all night, though.”
Bonnie smiled down at her lap. “Don’t worry. Bookworms generally don’t mind an extended wait. It’s where we do some of our best work.”
Silence descended like a blanket over us. Despite an entire day spent thinking about what I wanted to say to Bonnie, I wasn’t sure where to start. Sometimes you just had to start talking and let your brain catch up with your heart.
After a shaky breath, I admitted, “I’m really fucking sorry, Bonnie. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you yesterday about the bar. It was stupid and immature. I’m sorry I hurt you to protect myself. It wasn’t fair, and I regret it. And you asked for secrecy, and I agreed to it. I shouldn’t have tried to punish you for it.”
Bonnie nodded when I finished speaking. “I’m sorry too. And before you tell me to stop apologizing, I just want to say something here.” She turned a little so she could face me. “Jack, I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. I’m not embarrassed or anything like that. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like secrecy was more important to me than you are. There is a part of me—and you were right about this—that cares too much about what other people think. I didn’t want nosy neighbors gossiping about me behind my back.”
“You don’t owe me anyth?—”
“I do,” she interrupted. “I do owe you an explanation. In the beginning, I just wanted—I wanted something for myself. Every interaction with you felt electric, a little buzz beneath my skin. Even when you irritated me or made fun of my muffins.” She smiled at the memory of us bickering on the third-base line like it was something fond, and that made me ache even more. “I liked it. And I wanted to be selfish for once in my life. I wanted something that was just for me. I know how this town can be—judgmental and meddlesome—and I didn’t want to scare you off.”
Bonnie looked away following the admission, so I reached for her hand and squeezed, desperate for her to keep talking, suddenly grateful I’d been so wrong in my assumptions.
“I like you, Jack,” she confessed, attention on our fingers braided together. “And I wasn’t ready to let go of that control. It made me feel powerful, or at least like I heldsomepower in the situation. Mostly because I was waiting for you to realize that I’m not worth the effort. I thought if I kept things easy breezy, in a way you were used to—casual, no commitment—that you might want to stick around.”
I frowned, baffled that she possibly believed that to be true. “Bonnie.”
Her smile was self-deprecating, but she finally met my gaze. “It’s just hard for me to understand why someone like you wants anything to do with someone like me—someone boring and safe and a little broken.”
“You’re not broken,” I insisted.
“Dented, then,” she corrected with a humorless laugh. “On the clearance rack at the very least.”
Her honesty and vulnerability made me want to wrap her in my arms and tell her about the womanIsaw when I looked at her. The one with patience and love and understanding for everyone but herself. But I knew Bonnie wasn’t in a place to have one more person discount her feelings. Men weren’t put on this earth to prove women wrong. But I thought people forgot that, using their volume to drown each other out, when really all they needed to do was listen.
“I don’t think you see yourself very clearly, Clyde,” I said gently. “And I know you don’t see me accurately.”
But she shook her head. “I just keep waiting for you to remember that you’re the coolest guy in school and I’m the mousey sophomore watching you from the window.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then,” I told her. I was sure I’d looked better from a distance. If she’d been close enough to be on my radar, I probably would have hurt her. I’d been young and stupid, on a path toward destruction, bound and determined. I would have taken her with me. “And we’re not those people anymore, either one of us.”
