He shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t tell me how sorry you are. I hate that.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, I hope you know it’s not your fault. Because it’s not. It was an accident. It just happened. It’s not like you did it on purpose, right?”
“Fuck no.” He scoffs. “I loved that game more than anything in my life. I would have done whatever it took to keep it, and I did. I had surgeries and did physical therapy and trials for new drugs and everything else, but ...” He sinks back in his chair. “Nothing. None of it helped like I needed it to, so I could keep playing. I still had—havethe pain. It won’t go away, no matter how hard I try.”
The last words are so soft, so sad.
That same urge I had before to hug him hits me, but this time I resist. The last thing I want to do is touch him after what happened in here the other day.
My eyes fall to the spot where it happened, where I was practically mauling him on the corner of his desk. Where I had my hands on him, and my lips were pressed to his.
I peel my gaze away and am surprised to find Ezra watching me intently.
“Look, Summer, about the other day. I—”
“No, please. Let’s not talk about it, okay? Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. I think that’s best, don’t you?”
He stares at me, his mouth open, and I get the strangest feeling he wants to argue. He doesn’t. He snaps his lips shut, then nods.
And that’s it.
We go back to work. I make the executive decision to add brussels sprouts to the menu and tack on more items—three different kinds of fries, a variety of grilled sandwiches, and a few appetizers. It’s too crowded for such a small venue, especially since I’m nowhere near done with it, but we’ll pare it down later.
It’s four o’clock before I know it, and my shift has come to an end.
Part of me wants to stay, just to be near him, but I don’t. I think Ineedthis break.
“I’m heading out,” I announce, gathering my things.
He doesn’t say anything, and for the first time, I’m grateful for it.
I’m just stepping over the threshold when he speaks.
“Hey, Summer?”
I turn to him. His head is still bent, his pen moving across the page. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Just so we’re clear.”
I don’t say anything because what can I say? That I don’t want to forget it either? I don’t. Not really. How could I want to forget it when I liked it so much?
So I take a page from his book, and I say nothing.
I just walk away, and I’m left with more questions than ever before.
“Summer! Over here!”
Odette waves at me from across Dickie’s Gourmet Burgers, a cute little place that has the best burgers around, and I grin in her direction.
I was surprised when she called me yesterday, asking if I wanted to get lunch, but grateful, because I could really use someone to talk to who doesn’t work at the cidery and isn’t my father.
I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Just so we’re clear.
Ezra’s words from two days ago haven’t left my mind, no matter how many times I’ve pushed them away, and trust me, I’ve tried. Over and over, but they won’t budge.
What did he even mean? He was clearly horrified by what happened, so it couldn’t possibly mean he wanted that kiss.
His “just so we’re clear” was anything but clear.
