His voice is quiet and measured, yet its impact hits like a wrecking ball. I just want this moment, this conversation, this pain to be over. Give me a dentist’s drill every day of the year over this conversation. Throw in an OB-GYN visit too. Heck—I’ll take both at the same time over dredging up this painful past.
“You left me.” I know he already apologized for it, but I’m still processing. Because his words simply do not compute.
“Biggest regret of my life,” Pat says. “And I have a lot of regrets, believe me.” He pauses, his jaw working before he speaks again. “If you had told me the truth when I called, I would have come.”
“Do you really think I could have asked you to come to this nowhere town and help raise a child with me? Would you have traded late nights at parties for late nights with a newborn? Drinks for diapers?”
“I would have.”
I stare at him. And dang it if his deep brown eyes look sincere.
It’s all too much. His apology, his confession, this whole conversation. My head is feeling dangerously swoony again.
“You sounded so happy with your life,” Pat says. “Like everything was going so well without me. I called to apologize, but you didn’t even sound like you cared.”
“I did care. Too much.” And I won’t make that mistake again.
“But I’d like to try now. If you’ll let me. Lindy, I am so sorry for hurting you. For leaving you without saying goodbye. For not being here when you were struggling. Tell me it’s not too late,” Pat says, and if I had to describe his tone, I’d say he’s begging. I like it a little too much. “Please, Lindy—forgive me. Let me try to make things right. Let me show you I’ve changed. Let me have another chance. Please.”
No, no, and no. As much as I love the reformed bad boy in romance novels, I am not ready for one in my own life. Especially not with all the other emotional turmoil I’m already dealing with. I cannot possibly spare the emotional bandwidth for a relationship right now. Especially not one with a cargo plane full of baggage. But I can’t seem to make myself tell Pat no. The tiny, one-syllable word refuses to leave my mouth.
Pat looks like he’s about to say more, but I spot a tow truck turning down my drive, plumes of dust rising in clouds behind it.
I jump to my feet. “Catching up has been lovely. Apology accepted. And it looks like your ride is here.”
“Lindy—”
Before he can say anything more, there is a shrill shriek the likes of which I’ve never heard before.
And then Tank comes running around the side of the house. Jo follows a moment later, holding a small brown snake. It’s barely big enough to hang over the sides of her hands.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Tank! It’s not venomous,” she calls. “It’s a rough earth snake. They eat earthworms, not people.”
But Tank is still running. If I didn’t feel like my heart was just dragged across a cheese grater, I might laugh.
Instead, I climb down the steps and meet Jo. “Better let the snake go, Jojo. I don’t think Tank cares what species he is.”
Jo sighs heavily, then sets the snake down in the grass. “Fine.” It takes a moment for the reptile to disentangle himself from her fingers. In seconds, it disappears in the grass. I wish the human walking up behind me would disappear as quickly.
“Bye, snake,” Jo says solemnly.
“Let me guess,” Pat says, standing next to Jo with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Snakes are like sharks—they just need a friend?”
Jo grins. “Exactly.”
Pat glances at me, then away. “I better go collect Tank. He’s more scared of snakes than Indiana Jones. Bye, Jo.”