“This is true,” Stef agreed. “They’re both a thousand times too good for you.”
“Aren’t relationships supposed to make you feel worthy?” I asked. It sounded like something my therapist would have said.
“Pretty sure the only dumbass who can make you feel worthy is you,” Nash said.
“The second you think you’re as good as or better than your woman is the second it all starts goin’ to hell,” Knox said.
I swiped my bleeding mouth across my sleeve and took another drag. “So you’re just supposed to what? Drag them down to your level?”
Knox threw a pea-sized piece of gravel at me. “No, you fucking moron. You’re supposed to spend the rest of your lucky-ass life trying to live up to them.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It sure ain’t for the faint of heart,” Jeremiah said.
I rubbed my jaw. My face and fists hurt like a bitch. But that tightness in my chest seemed just a little looser.
“You comin’ back in?” Knox asked, gesturing toward Honky Tonk.
I shook my head. I needed to be alone.
Stef and Jeremiah hauled the Morgan brothers to their feet.
Nash reached down and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not a bad guy, Luce. You’re just an idiot.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly and watched the brothers limp back to the bar together. Jeremiah followed with a wink at Stef.
Stef held out a hand to me, and I took it.
“You know, I’ve spent the last few weeks second-, third-, and fourth-guessing myself,” he said.
“About what?” My left eye was swelling, making it hard to see him.
“About everything. Moving here. Making things official with Jeremiah. Committing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being wary of commitment,” I pointed out, testing my aching jaw.
“There’s wary and there’s chickenshit.”
“Bite me,” I muttered.
“Listen, I’m the last guy to give relationship advice,” Stef admitted. “But the way you look at her, it wasn’t just a good time.”
“Everyone in this fucking town thinks there’s a goddamn happily ever after for everyone. You know nothing about our situation,” I reminded him.
“No, but you’re making me wonder if it’s not better to at least take a chance. Maybe getting my heart ripped out and stomped on is better than being too afraid to try in the first place.”
“Love makes men stupid,” I quipped.
“Yes, it does. But does denying it make us stupider?”
35
You Love Me, You Idiot
Sloane
What goes better with intermittent crying jags? Grilled chicken salads or cheesesteaks?” my mother asked, holding up two takeout menus.
It was Monday, and my mom and I had taken the day off to go through some of Dad’s things. We were in my parents’ bedroom, working our way through his collection of books, deciding what to keep, what to donate, and what to sell.
“Tears make cheesesteaks too soggy. What about grilled cheese?”
“Perfect! There’s a gourmet grilled cheese place right around the corner. I’ll order,” Mom said.
Frankly, I wasn’t hungry. A statement I rarely got to make since it usually only signified the onset of a stomach bug. But this was no stomach bug. This was shame. After my run-in with Lucian—and his cock—at Honky Tonk Friday night, I’d been feeling furious with myself and more than a little guilty.
I’d been on a date with another man—a perfect one on paper—yet I still couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I’d been a willing participant in the hallway second base ambush. Then I’d forced Lucian’s friends to police him, when I was just as much at fault. And judging from their bruised and bleeding faces when Knox and Nash returned to the bar, there had been a lot of policing.
I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself.
Mom returned and gracefully sank back to the floor.
“This sucks,” I said as tears escaped my burning eyes. “I miss Dad.”
“I know you do, honey. I do too. So much.”
“Damn it!” I wailed. “I thought I’d be done crying by now.”
“Ah, to be so stupidly na?ve,” Mom teased, cupping my damp face in her hand. “Let’s get a few more piles done before the food arrives.”
We both took a moment to blow our noses and compose ourselves.
“How about this one?” I asked, holding up a thick tome on Virginia tax law.