Till Summer Do Us Part(79)

And shortly after, my dad ended up passing. I went to college, Mika dropped out of college and became a full-time bartender, and we haven’t really healed from the situation. Well, I’ve had conversations with my mom, come to peace with it, but Mika, not so much.

“I’m, uh, I’m surprised Mika told you that,” I say as I stick the sleeping bag in the bin.

“He doesn’t tell me much about your family, honestly, but it was during his rough time, and mine at that. It was a drunk night. He was raging about Matt and then mentioned that at least Matt didn’t cheat on me like his mom cheated on your dad. He said it in passing, and I wasn’t really sure if it was true or not, but I guess seeing the way you treat this marriage counseling thing and the way you look after Mika, I just put two and two together. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.”

I shake my head. “You’re not. You’re Mika’s friend first, so I guess there are some things you know about my family that I might not have thought that you knew.”

“That’s about it.”

I nod and then start rolling up the tent. “Yeah, well, I’ve come to peace with my mom and what she did. I don’t agree with it, but I also understand it. My dad didn’t even talk. He was…he was not the man that he was before the accident. It was hard on her, and I sound like I’m making excuses.”

“You’re not,” Scottie says. “That’s…that’s a tough situation. I honestly can’t imagine. I know what it’s like to feel loneliness. I’ve been there. Sure, Matt was able to walk and talk, but I also lived in a house with a man who didn’t care to acknowledge or appreciate me. I know what that could do to a person.”

I look up at her, the understanding in her eyes breaking down a wall inside me that I didn’t even know existed. Because…she gets it. It’s so hard talking to people about my mom, especially Mika. I don’t agree with or condone what my mom did. It’s terrible actually, but then again, if I step back and I put myself in her shoes, how could I possibly observe as a bystander and judge her? She lost her husband in that car accident. She was taking care of two kids. Being a caretaker for her husband who couldn’t even acknowledge her. Working overtime. She was stressed and…and needed that comfort. Was it wrong? Yes. Do I understand it? I sort of do.

And anyone I’ve mentioned it to has judged my mom, chastised her, said what a horrible person she is, but I know she’s not. I know she’s not that woman.

But Scottie…she gets it. She fucking gets it.

“Thank you,” I say to her.

She shrugs shyly. “You’re welcome.”

I move toward her and pull her into a hug. Her arms wrap around me instinctively, and she holds on to me tightly as I place my chin against the top of her head.

We stand like that for a few minutes, just holding each other, allowing understanding to wash over the both of us. And when we finally pull away, it’s only a few inches. Our eyes meet, a palpable connection beating between us. It’s more than just a friendship that we’ve formed. There’s genuine honesty. There’s an appreciation.

Her eyes fall to my mouth for a brief second and then travel back up to my eyes. Our arms are still wrapped around each other. It would be so easy to bend down right now and kiss her. To cup the back of her head and show her just how much I appreciate her. How much I’ve enjoyed these last few days with her, even when we were fighting.

And as I bite down on the inside of my cheek, I tell myself don’t.

Don’t cross that line.

Don’t push any further than I already have, because I wasn’t lying when I said that I wasn’t sure about what I want. If I can handle a relationship.

But hell, she’s making it fucking hard to keep myself away, especially when she looks at me with those expressive, nearly pleading eyes of hers.

“Thank you for last night,” she says quietly.

“For what?” I ask.

“For reminding me about what it is that I want in life. I forgot how nice it is to have human touch, and you…you reminded me of that.” She smiles. “I was kind of happy there was only one sleeping bag.”

That makes me chuckle. “Jesus, is it bad that I was thinking the same thing this morning?”

“Really?” she asks.

“I mean…yeah. I forgot what it was like to snuggle with someone. It was nice. I enjoyed it. Not to mention I didn’t mind the whole hand up the shirt thing. It was a nice touch.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

I wet my lips. “Can’t blame a guy. But it should probably be just a one-time thing though, right? I mean, imagine if we snuggled in the sex cabin. Think about how the cabin would take it wrong.”

“The walls would whisper,” she cutely says.

I chuckle. “They’d torment us. Tell us to go further. Tease us relentlessly. The vibrators would vibrate. The cock rings would jingle.”

“The lube would bubble. The condoms would crinkle.”

I lift a brow. “Did you just rhyme?”

“I did.” She winces. “And I said lube would bubble. I don’t think it does that. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know. I’ve never used it.”

“Never used it?” I ask with a shake of my head. “Pips, we need to get you out of this hole you’ve been living in.”