“See ya, Jonah.”
“Later, Bennett.”
He hadn’t thought twice about chatting with me, even after his experiences with me had been less than stellar. Had people’s reactions for the last decade or more been in my head?
Had I used them as an excuse not to leave my cabin?
I veered to the bar so I could put my back solidly toward the happy couple who’d be tucking their kids in tonight.
I scrubbed my face when Mike stopped in front of me.
“What’ll you have?”
“Patty melt and fries with a Sprite.”
“Got it.” He knocked on the bar top and walked away.
I planted my gaze firmly on the baseball game on the TV. I wasn’t with it enough to register the teams, or even what league they played for.
Did I want kids?
Terror squeezed the sides of my heart together. That was a nope.
So I’d done the right thing. For me. And for Summer.
I kept the mantra on repeat until my food was slid in front of me. People entered and I didn’t pay an ounce of attention. I’d eat and get home, and if I was lucky, I wouldn’t see happy couples on my way out.
I was about to take a bite when a familiar cloying perfume wafted by my nose.
“Jonah?”
A long breath left me. My burger was almost to my lips, and I was tempted to take a bite so huge I couldn’t talk. Then I remembered how she’d treated me the last time we’d run into each other. Either this was a fucked-up coincidence and evidence of my shitty luck, or Jackie was a regular at the bar. I suspected I knew the answer.
“You sure you want to talk to me?” I asked. “We’re in public.”
She had the grace to appear chagrined. “You’re so easy to talk to,” she said sarcastically.
Convenient excuse. Summer hadn’t been daunted. Well, not for the last couple of months. “Sure.” I took that bite. Expecting the food to taste like dust thanks to Jackie, I moaned when flavor burst over my tongue.
Summer would like?—
Now the hamburger tasted like dirt. I chewed and caught the way Jackie turned sideways in her stool.
“You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said around my mouthful and continued eating. Despite my taste buds, now that my stomach had seen solid food, I wasn’t leaving without polishing off every bite.
“You busy later?”
That was how our texts usually started.
Me or her:You busy?
Followed byYesorNoand then agreeing to meet at her house if we were both ready and willing.
Never at the bar. Never at a restaurant. No coffeehouse. She was never seen with me.
I took a long pull of my Sprite. I might’ve fucked up with Summer—been too honest too early until she was so wrapped up in me she’d never leave. Damn. That made me sound like a selfish dick.
