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At times, I felt closer to him than my own father. Pop never came with any of the unrealistic expectations my dad had of me.
I wrap my fingers around her hand resting on my chest. “Please tell me. No matter how harsh or critical, I respect Pop and care what he thinks.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll feel like shit saying it.”
“Come on, it’s me and I’m asking.”
She relaxes further, sinking into me. “Pop said you were in for a world of pain with a woman like Dot.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know at one time you and Pop were close.”
She trails off briefly, maybe lost in thoughts of her father, then says, “Gah, I almost went by the Grill tonight for a burger. If only I had, he’d have a search party out looking for me by now.”
Her hollow laughter and all her talk about her family restaurant makes me wish for a simpler time. Pop’s Grill is a popular place in Winslow Grove and dare I say, the heartbeat of the town.
I groan and close my eyes. “What I’d give for one of his burgers.”
She huffs and I can almost imagine her rolling her eyes. “Liar.”
“What? Why do you say that? I’m not lying.”
“It’s been years since you stepped foot in Pop’s, and don’t tell me otherwise because you and I both know the truth.”
My stomach churns at how things used to be, and I can’t refute anything she says. Instead of doing so, I try to make her laugh. “Well now, you seem to know a lot about my whereabouts. Are you stalking me, Tyler?”
Apfftsound comes from her but nothing more, and the joke falls flat. She wants honesty. Now more on edge than before and no one to blame but myself, I root for the words.
Without getting into all of it, none of the responses I come up with make sense or even come close to a logical reason for staying away.
“Shit. I-I, Wren, you know Dot. She never wanted to eat there. Her figure and all that shit, and…”
“Don’t sweat it. Like you said, Dot always gets her way, and she wanted you. I figured she was the reason you didn’t come around.” She pauses again, almost as long as the time before.
What is going through her head?
When she finally speaks, her first few words break on a stifled sob. “I still remember the day I heard the two of you were dating. The first thing I thought was, well, Oliver Winslow’s taken for good. There was no way Dot was gonna let you go. And that’s when my final, tiny scrap of stupid hope, the one I’d hung on to for so long, died.”
A fist tightens in my gut. “Hope?”
“Yeah.” She lets out a shaky chuckle. “Hope of a chance with you. It’s stupid.”
My heart physically aches at the pain in her voice, although a small part of me can’t help but rejoice in hearing how she yearned for me.
I wasn’t the only one.
My teeth clench just considering how different things might have been, if only…
“Shit, Wren.” I squeeze her tight, needing to know this is real. She’s in my arms. “If I’d known I had a chance to be with you, I’d have left Dot so fast…”
Regret pinches at my chest, and I grind my teeth once more. Regrets are mean bastards, pointless and punishing.
I clear my throat. “It seemed to me that you weren’t interested and even at that, you were always dating someone when I wasn’t and vice versa. I remember when you came back from college, you were with that cocky guy.”
I know his name but never much liked him. Come to think of it, I didn’t like any of the guys Wren dated. Or more truthfully, I never liked any of them for her.
“What? Jett Kincaide?” There’s laughter in her tone while her hand drifts down my abdomen to rest just above my waistband.
She’s trying to torture me.
“Yeah. I heard you’d met him at a rodeo or something, and every time I turned around, there he was, always with you.” I fail to curb my biting tone, but she doesn’t seem to notice or, more likely, care.
