Wrecked(40)

“A slice of pie.”

She does not look impressed. “You just won’t let go of that pie.”

“That’s because it’s amazing.”

“Tell me: were you planning to drive all the way back to the farm to get the pie, or was this going to be something you nicked from the dining hall?”

“Would you have known the difference?”

“Probably not.”

The blue eyes look hard and there’s ice in her voice. Does she get that he’s trying?

“It’s not really about the pie,” he says. “It’s what the pie represents. A missed opportunity. We were having a good time. At least, I was, can’t speak for you. And then . . .”

He pauses. Gives her a chance to fill in the blank. But she stares at her coffee mug, which seems suddenly fascinating to her.

“Here’s the thing, Haley,” he continues, leaning forward a little more. “I’m not a bad guy.”

“I know. You just play one on TV.”

“I’m being serious now.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“I know I pissed you off last Saturday and I’m really sorry about that. I’m really sorry that we’ve ended up on opposite sides in somebody else’s war. The fact is, I’m not on a side. But I’ve only heard one. Side, that is. So how about this: tell me what I don’t know. Tell me what I don’t get. Then, let’s move on. Because whatever went down between Jordan and Jenny doesn’t have to do with us. And I’m interested in us. In you. I like you. I’d like to spend time with you.”

He had rehearsed, in his head, some version of this little speech. It comes out pretty close to what he intended. Maybe a little more heartfelt than it needs to be, but hell. He’s probably better off sounding more sincere than less.

He knows he’s taking a chance. A huge one. Not only in terms of rejection, which is a very real possibility, but in terms of opening his big mouth. Again. He’s not supposed to be talking about this, but he doesn’t see a way around it. If he wants to have anything to do with Haley, things need to be said.

He just has to be careful what those things are.

Haley buries her face in her hands. Not the reaction he was hoping for.

“Why,” she says, groaning, “do you have to make it so hard to hate you?”

A true green light of encouragement. He grins. “I’m that sort of guy.”

She lowers her hands. Looks exasperated. “This is way more complicated than you realize.”

“Actually, it’s not. Okay, the Jenny and Jordan thing is. That’s extremely complicated. But you and me? Very simple. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl . . . hopefully . . . likes boy? Boy and girl drink coffee, pick apples, maybe—”

She cuts him off. “Stop, Richard. Okay? I need a turn.”

He nods. Sits back.

Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. “You’re right. We need to talk about this. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I can’t do.”

Yellow light. He waits for her to continue.

“The fact is, I’m involved. Jenny has asked me to be her advisor. It’s this support role, I don’t completely get it, but it means I have to go with her to a lot of meetings and be with her when she’s questioned. The biggest thing is that I can’t talk about it. Not any of it. Especially not to one of Jordan’s friends.”

He concentrates on his face. The expression he imagines playing out there. Don’t react, he wills his mouth, his eyes. But her words jolt him.

Jenny’s advisor.

Jordan’s friend.

He has to correct the record on that last one. Even though he’s supposed to be listening.

“Housemate,” he says. “Not friend.”

“Whatever,” she says. “He tells you stuff, right? I mean, he told you he hooked up with Jenny.”

“He’s a big talker, and most of it’s crap,” Richard says. “Like I said, who knows what really happened?”

“Even so. He did tell you, and you did repeat it to me, and I did react, and all of it is so, so totally not what I’m supposed to do. I probably shouldn’t even be at this table with you. I mean, think about it. What if the other night, Jordan had sat down with us, and Jenny walked into the Grille at the same time? This is . . . not possible.” Her eyes move to the exit. She seems poised to get up and leave.

He reaches across the table and places one hand over her wrist. He doesn’t grip, just lays his fingers there gently. She doesn’t jerk away.

“We can’t see each other until this thing is over,” she says quietly.

“I can’t accept that.”

“It’s worse than you know.”

“How? How can it be worse?”

“Now that the witness lists have gone out? Jenny’s getting harassed. While we were at breakfast this morning, someone wrote ‘Lying Bitch’ on our whiteboard.”

The earlier part of their conversation comes back to him now. First words out of her mouth. He pulls his hand away, having second thoughts. Like he placed a bet, but decides to yank the stack of chips off the table before the roulette ball settles.

“Wait a minute. Is that why you asked if I’d been by your room?”