Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(63)

I lean against the counter. “You know they have boxes of the stuff that only need water, right?”

“Sacrilege.” Her eyes are wide with horror. “Please tell me your diet doesn’t consist solely of things like mac and cheese and pizza.”

“Nah, we eat pretty good. My sister can cook, but she could also live off Lucky Charms. I need large quantities of carbs and protein, and my dad didn’t want me or my brothers to be those guys who couldn’t follow the directions on a package of pasta, so he used to take us to a cooking class once a month when we were kids. And when we were teenagers, we all had to take a night a week and make the meal, which we were happy to do, because my mom basically burns everything. She tries, but she cooks pork chops until they resemble shoe leather.”

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

“I like to barbeque in the summer, but I make a mean pot of chili. I’m also a fan of crockpot meals because I can throw everything together before I leave in the morning, and it’s ready when I get home. And sometimes there are leftovers, unless Kody and my cousin come for dinner, which is often.”

She dumps a teaspoon of baking powder into the mixing bowl, sets it on the counter, and turns to me. “You are very un-twenty-one. When I was your age and in college, I lived on ramen and peanut butter sandwiches.”

I shrug. “My mom eats like a ten-year-old. She’ll eat candy for breakfast. But when you grow up in a house with an elite athlete for a father, you learn a lot about feeding your body for your sport.”

“You’ve had to be responsible from a young age, haven’t you?”

“I’m not always responsible. See my shitty midterm grades this semester for details. And I’m pretty sure my advanced physiology exam didn’t go all that well.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I was busy working on my creative writing story and studied the wrong things. I’m sure I still passed, but not with the grade I’m capable of.”

“I still don’t understand why you picked a second-year creative writing class when you’re in your final year of a kin degree, anyway.” She cracks an egg and drops it into a measuring cup, whisking it to break the yolk.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I needed an elective, and I’m pretty decent at essays, so I figured that would come in handy for the class. Although, essays and creative writing aren’t the same at all, which I now know. I thought about taking an abnormal psych class, but it was at eight thirty on Monday morning, and creative writing was a night class.”

Clover arches her brow at me.

“I also wasn’t so sure I wanted to look all that closely at the darkness I carry around with me.”

“I think the darkness comes from your family’s trauma, but what I see more of is your kindness and selflessness.”

“I think you’re looking at me through rose-colored glasses, or orgasm-tinted ones, maybe.” I try to brush it off with a joke, but Clover doesn’t let it go.

“You put other people before yourself all the time.”

“That’s because when I put myself first, the people I care about get hurt.” I sip my coffee.

“Do you mean what happened to your sister at the carnival?” Clover stops mixing batter to focus on me.

“That’s one instance, yeah. Lavender needed people to look out for her, and sometimes I resented that. And it frustrated me that my best friend was in love with her before he even understood the concept,” I admit.

“Those are normal, human emotions. We all have thoughts we shouldn’t, Maverick, feel things we’re ashamed of. Especially when we’re young.”

“I just wish I could take it back. If I hadn’t acted selfishly, everything might have been different. Lavender wouldn’t have endured all that trauma.”

“You all endured the trauma, Maverick. Every member of your family was a victim, including you.” She places a hand on my cheek, offering comfort I don’t think I deserve, but I want it all the same.

“It’s the what-ifs that are the hardest to deal with, you know? And now I have to go home, and the memories that float around up here . . .” I tap my temple. “Sometimes it’s more than I know what to do with.” I take her hand in mine. “The night I texted you, I tried to talk to my dad about it.”

“Was that a first?”

I nod.

“What did he say?”

I shake my head. “He jumped to the conclusion that something was wrong with Lavender, so I dropped it.”

“Oh.”

“I can never tell him the truth, Clover—that it was my fault. Never. He can’t know I left her behind on purpose. He’d never forgive me.”

Her expression turns sad. “I wish you could see the man you are, instead of the boy who made a mistake. I see you, all of you—the good, the bad, and the broken. You are kind, Maverick. You are sweet and gentle and selfless. You will do anything in your power to protect the people you care about, even if it means you shut yourself off from them. I hated not being able to be there for you when we talked about this the last time, but I was so scared of the way I felt and all the lines I was afraid to cross. I’m glad I get to be someone you can talk to now.”

I fold her in my arms and rest my chin on top of her head. “Can we stay here in this bubble for the holidays and forget the rest of the world exists?”