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“What do you care? I’ve spent six years being an asshole to you. Shouldn’t you want to see me go down any way I can?”
Maybe.
And maybe all the layers of empathy I have for him are results of my own imagination and not even rooted in reality.
Maybe it’snotthat it’s legitimately tough on him to have a new woman moving into the house and taking his mom’s place.
Maybe it’snotkicking up old wounds to see Hayden moving on after six years.
Maybe itdoesn’tfeel like a betrayal to his mother’s memory, like he has been abandoned all over again because it’s plain to see that Hayden truly ishappywith my mom, and maybe they didn’t have much of a relationship at this point, but they had that. For the past six years, they’ve both buried themselves in the sand so they didn’t have to face the prospect of moving on without her.
Now, his dad is moving on.
Landon hates my mother with a passion that simply isn’t rooted in logic. My mom is a sweetheart, and if he gave her a chance, there’s no reason he shouldn’t like her.
All the snide remarks. Does he think I haven’t noticed? He’s angry that his dad moved her in. He’s angry that he loves her.
Why else would he be so angry about that?
Maybe it’s just because I saw how he coped with his big feelings when he was twelve, and I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s gotten better at it since then, but when Landon is hurt, I know he lashes out. My mom hasn’t done anything to hurt him, unless it was that.
I can’t relate to that, but I can understand how he feels.
I didn’t lose a parent I adored. Hayden is replacing no one for me.
Mom did tell me Hayden hasn’t been serious with anyone since his wife died, so I have a pretty good idea that I’m right about all this being new to him. And given even at school, his focus was on spreading rumors about her over me…
He’s hurting.
He’ll probably never admit that, but it doesn’t matter.
I don’t need verification. It’s what I believe, and it makes sense, so unless new information comes in and proves me wrong, that’s what I’m going with.
We approach the valet stand, so I don’t have to answer him. My face feels warm when I meet Javi’s gaze. He probably thinks I’m an idiot babysitting my same-age…
Ugh, no, I can’t say the word—even in my head.
“Can we get the car, please?” I ask sheepishly.
He eyes the ticket I’m holding out for him to take, then glances at Landon before looking back at me. “Sure. Just a minute.”
I don’t know what we’re waiting for, but a moment later, a BMW pulls up and an older man in the same uniform—though without the rolled-up sleeves—climbs out of the car.
“I’ll take that,” Javi says, walking around to take the keys and hand him ours. “Can you grab the Maserati in spot 14?”
The man looks briefly confused, but he nods and trades keys with Javi before heading back toward the parking lot.
“Couldn’t go get it yourself, huh?” Landon asks.
Javi shakes his head. “I’m busy.”
Since he’s just standing there, Landon says, “Doing what?”
Javi holds his gaze, then he picks up the stack of blank parking tickets and taps each end to make sure they’re nice and neat.
“Oh, my mistake. That seems pretty fucking important.”
“Whole place might collapse if I don’t get it done.”
