Never Let You Go(86)

He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you regret doing it?”

I don’t know how to answer. I wonder if my dad woke up like this all the time when he was drinking. Did he ever feel ashamed? Maybe I would have made different choices if he wasn’t dead. Maybe last night wouldn’t have happened. Then I feel angry again

“I’m just confused. Everything feels weird now.”

“Maybe we should have waited.” He sounds worried.

I think it over. Would anything have been different? Maybe it would have sucked no matter when we did it. “I don’t think anyone’s first time is great.” Delaney’s first time had been horrible. She didn’t even like the guy she did it with and doesn’t talk to him.

“Can we hang out?” he says. “I’ll pick up pho and come over.”

I pause, thinking.

“Please, Sophie?” The way he says it gives me a strange happy feeling, like something inside is bending toward him, softening. He seems so desperate to fix everything. Maybe if he came over with lunch it would help things with my mom. She’ll see that he’s caring and sweet.

“Okay,” I say. “My mom really likes those deep-fried wonton things.”

“Great. I’ll get some of those too.”



I take a quick shower and down a few mouthfuls of Pepto-Bismol. I’m feeling halfway human when I walk into the kitchen, where Mom is sitting at the island reading the newspaper. Marcus is at the other end with his laptop.

“Jared is coming over. He’s bringing lunch.”

Mom looks up. “Oh.” She pauses. “That’s nice of him.” But I see how her mouth thins, how she’s tapping her fingernail on the rim of her mug.

Maybe I’m still drunk, because I can’t just brush it off this time, can’t tell myself that it doesn’t matter what she thinks.

“Why don’t you like him?” I say. “He likes you.”

“I’ve never said I don’t like him.” Her cheeks are turning pink and I can feel my own getting hot too. Marcus is frozen, watching both of us.

“Can’t you just give him a chance?”

She lays her newspaper down, glances at Marcus. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

“Not at all. I’ll be in my office.” He picks up his laptop and heads down the hall.

Mom looks back at me. I can see different expressions crossing over her face like she’s not sure exactly what to say. “It’s just, are you sure you want to date anyone right now? You’ve been through so much. Look what happened last night, and now he’s coming over already?”

“See. That’s what I’m talking about. If you liked him, you’d be fine with it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

We hold gazes for a minute, and she lets out her breath in a long sigh. “Maybe I’ve been a little overprotective when it comes to Jared.” She gets up and walks around the counter, gives me a hug. “I’ll try to make more of an effort to get to know him, okay?”

I rest my head in the corner of her neck. “Good, or I’m going to throw up on you.”

She laughs, her breath tickling my hair. “I’m sorry, baby. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this.” Her voice is serious-sounding now, and I know she’s not talking about Jared anymore. I close my eyes, blink a few times.

“It will get better, right?”

“Just give it a few months,” she says. “By spring break, everything will feel different.”





PART THREE





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


LINDSEY

MARCH 2017

I stand in front of the wide picture window and stare out at the lake. It’s dark, but I can see the dock and the wharf below in the lights from the house. The wind has picked up, heralding that we’re in for a stormy night. The water is choppy, and white-tipped waves slap against the shore and the side of the dock, the wind pushing at the ramp, which sways and bounces.

We can’t see any neighbors’ houses, though Marcus mentioned a few cabins around the lake. Across the water some lights glow in the distance. The only signs of life. I smile at the scene reflected behind me. Marcus is building a fire, the kindling crackling as the blaze catches.

“The house will heat up soon,” he says. I look over my shoulder, already feeling warmed by the cozy sight. Marcus sitting on the hearth and poking at the logs, his faced outlined in amber. Our damp coats are hanging by the fire, boots placed in front in a neat row.

We had to park on the road, then walk down the narrow steps to his lake house, which was built on a steep hillside, while the rain lashed against us. Angus kept his nose to the ground, inhaling all the new scents in big chuffs, almost yanking Sophie off her feet. He’s on a blanket by the fire now, his nose tucked under his tail while Sophie idly strokes the fur around his neck.

I can’t read her expression, but she’s barely said a word since Marcus picked us up at our house in Dogwood Bay. We’d moved out of Marcus’s place at the end of January and into a rental. I still remember how lost I felt that first weekend, wandering around our new home. It was cold and lonely, and I missed Marcus. The next week I invited him over for dinner while Sophie was out with her friends. We sat on the couch and polished off a bottle of wine, getting closer and closer with each glass. The feel of his leg against mine, his chest so close, his arm grazing against mine every time he reached for his glass, was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stop watching his mouth, how his lips quirked to the side when he smiled or laughed. A couple of times I caught him watching me, a warm look in his eyes, and his hand lingered on my leg a little too long when he was making a point in his story. He had to be feeling the chemistry.