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“Mature response, kid.”
He huffs. “Bet you feelsosuperior, playing thekidcard. I’m twenty-six, not eighteen. It’s not like I’m some helpless idiot.”
“Never said you were.”
“Mature response,” he throws back, stumbling over the words. “I know exactly what you think of me.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“You think I’m desperate and an idiot and that I’m some … some … home-wrecker.” He hiccups a sob. “But I’mnot. I’m just … so, so tired. I want somebody. I want a boyfriend, and I want to find love, and every time I think I’ve found someone who’s interested, they … they …” He groans and clutches his stomach. “Forget it. You wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
That old, lingering hurt fills my chest, and unlike every other time I push it away, this time, I let myself feel it. The pain is intense, consuming. The most desperate type of torture. “I know maybe better than anyone.”
His gaze darts to side-eye me and look away again. “Why, because you’ve been divorced? Dad and Mom were divorced, and he couldn’t care less.”
“Actually, my wife died. And I care a lot.”
His mouth drops. Snaps closed. Then he shifts, swiping at his face. “That’s, uh …fuck. Okay, I guess it’s my turn to be sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but …” He doesn’t finish. I get it. The struggling to think of me as a real person. I’m the same with him.
“Losing her was easily the darkest moment of my life. I never thought I’d come back from that. Even now, I’m not sure what I was living for back then. It felt like every day I got up, powered by something or someone else. I was empty, just doing things because I was supposed to.”
He sniffs a couple of times. “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?”
“Is it working?”
“A little. I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a huge fan of feeling sorry for you either.”
We eye each other for a moment, Molly’s gaze unfocused as he struggles to stay upright.
“So Ford is your second choice?” he asks. “Because he’s better than that.”
I shake my head. “There’s no competition. I loved her. I love him. Neither of them cancels out or lessens the other. She’s my past. And he’s my future.” I harden my voice so he knows I’m serious. “Heismy future, Molly. I’m sorry if that sucks to hear, but I won’t be giving him up.”
He hunches forward, wrapping his arms tighter around his knees. “I know. I get it. I’m … lonely. Even at home, with Dad and Will, I swear sometimes they forget I’m even around. Like Dad wishes Will was his son or whatever.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just drunk and sad.”
Gritting my teeth, I reach over and rest my hand on his back. “I know.”
“I wasn’t planning on kissing him. He said that we had to ignore each other from now on, and I got so upset, and it felt like I was drowning, and I … I just …”
“Iknow,” I say again. Because I do. I understand that feeling, that pain, way more than I ever want to. He was hurting, so he wanted everyone else to hurt with him.
Been there, done that.
Got the literal scars to prove it.
“How are you going to handle seeing us around?” I ask. “Because it’s a small town, and we’re not going anywhere.”
He drops his chin on his knees and answers me in a small voice. “I’ll … I …”
