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I drew in a deep breath. Okay. So he knew.

I watched him walk out of the store.

When I came out half an hour later holding his prescription, I’d mostly come to terms with the conversation I expected we were about to have. And I’d decided on one thing.

I was going to answer any questions he asked me. I wouldn’t sugarcoat it and I wouldn’t lie. I would own it and I would admit it. I owed him at least that.

His truck was parked next to my car and he was sitting at a picnic table under a blossoming crab apple tree.

I crossed the parking lot and made my way onto the grass and had a seat next to him on the bench. Then we just sat there, saying nothing.

There was a busy street in front of the store. We studied the cars coming and going. Watched people line up in the drive-through at the coffee shop in the center across the way.

“I knew it was you who cleared the snow off her car,” he said.

I turned to him. “What?”

“I knew,” he said, looking at me. “Worst thing of all, I knew if I didn’t do it, you would. I let you do it. It could have been me, but I didn’t show up for her. I didn’t do the work.” He looked away from me back at the highway. “I know you guys are together—you don’t have to tell me.” He put up a hand. “I’ve known you my whole life. I know you even when you’re not talking to me.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not even mad. I always knew you were better for her,” he said. “I didn’t do shit to change it. I could have, but I didn’t.” He laughed a little. “Hell, I think I even pushed you together. Made you fill in for me when I dropped the ball. I made you sing karaoke with her. I couldn’t even do that.”

He went silent again.

“I only want her to be happy,” he said quietly. “I love her enough to want that for her. And I know for her, that’s you. It’s always been you. I don’t blame you for falling in love with her. I don’t blame her for falling for you either. I love you both, so I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Neither of us wanted to hurt you.”

He smiled weakly and looked down at the grass. “I miss her. And it sucks. I’m not gonna lie to you and tell you I haven’t had some pretty fucked-up days the last couple of months. But I have been sober for them.” He laughed dryly. “That’s the hard part. The shit they don’t tell you, having to deal with it without the thing that helps you deal with it.” He let out a long, slow breath. “It’s like I panicked, you know? I wanted so much for us to work, I hit all the buttons—including the self-destruct one. I did it to myself. My therapist says—”

“You have a therapist?”

“Yup. She’s good. I like her. You were right about that. I did need it. She says I’m dealing with feelings of inadequacy,” he said, changing his tone to sound like hers. “Unresolved grief from senior year. She’s probably right. I never did figure my shit out after the injury.” He pulled a leaf off the tree and rolled it absently between his fingers. “Was just sort of hoping it would work itself out without me. It didn’t.”

We stared out at the cars.

“So how is she?” he asked, not looking at me.

I shrugged. “She’s good. Her business is doing great.”

He smiled. A genuine smile.

“Good. I always knew she’d do something big. She’s smart like you.”

“I heard you’re not talking to your mom,” I said, changing the subject.

He huffed a laugh. “Or my sister. Tony keeps trying to convince me to have dinner at the house and I’m like, nah. I really didn’t know they were acting like that.”

“I know.”

“My mom’s a trip sometimes. I don’t get her. And I have no fuckin’ idea what Janessa’s problem is.” He tossed the leaf onto the grass.

“She’s always kind of been like that,” I said.

“Ha. No kidding.”

“How is it working for Tony again?” I asked, looking at him.