Do not look below her face.
Do not touch her.At all.
But fuck if I didn’t break both within minutes.
The no-looking-below-her-face rule was shattered when I let my eyes trail over the flimsy straps on her shoulders, the little dips above her collarbones, the elegant neck that I’m buzzing to kiss.
Then I touched the bare skin of her leg like an absolute fucking idiot.
I must have a death wish.
It takes a concerted effort, but I manage to pull my hand away from her knee and slide my arm behind her on the side of the hot tub.
Spinning toward me, Lena tucks her knees up to her chest. Her voice drips with bleak uncertainty as she says, “I don’t know if I’ll get a love story. Lately it feels like I might be defective. Aside from my core group of family and friends, everyone else leaves. Like I don’t matter that much to them.”
Two fists squeeze around my heart.
I know how that feels.
She scoffs before continuing. “Starting with my sperm donor of a father, then every person I’ve tried to build a relationship with. And I know Millie didn’tleaveme, but when I’m sitting in my empty house, it still feels a little bit like I got left behind. Everybody always leaves.”
Even you left.
The words are unsaid, but they loom over me.
My throat tightens, and I try to swallow the pressure as images from many years ago flash through my mind.
My own people leaving me.
Lena’s hand slaps over her mouth. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” Her legs drop as she sits up straighter. “Oh god, that was so insensitive. I don’t know everything about your story, but my mopey one has to be nothing compared to yours. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it that way.” My voice sounds unsteady in my ears, even though it’s the truth.
“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her lips press into a flat line.
A thread pulls tight in my chest, tugging me toward her.
It seems to say, closer. Tell her. Trust her.
With a slow inhale, I follow my instincts to open up my heart a little. “Our dads had similar roles in our lives, and I never met mine either.” Lena’s brows crease as she nods. “And my last memory of my mother is the view of her taillights after she left me on my grandmother’s front porch.”
A strangled gasp rips from Lena’s throat, and my arms ache to hold her. Hug her. Comfort her, even though I’m the one sharing painful memories.
“What happened to your grandmother?” she whispers gently.
“She left me with a social worker a few months later.” With a sympathetic whimper, she reaches across me and somehow finds my free hand under the water, pulling it to the bench between us. Encasing my hand in hers, she holds it tenderly while she waits for me to continue. “She said I was too much to handle, and they couldn’t find my mother anywhere, so I went into foster care.”
Her thumb glides over my knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Gav. I didn’t mean to sound so callous about having a shitty parent when you had it so much worse.”
Turning toward her, I slide my hand from the edge of the hot tub to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Your trauma isn’t invalid because you think mine is bigger. Your hurt matters too. And you’re allowed to talk about it, even with me.”
Her lips part as silence blankets the space between us.
My whole life has been a lesson in how unworthy I am of love. There has never been anyone who chose me wholeheartedly or put me first, and I have a feeling it’s never going to be in the cards for me.
I’m never going to find someone who embraces me exactly the way I am.
But itdestroysme that Lena has similar thoughts about herself.
