From the back seat, Marley makes a slight, sad sound. “I don’t even care about her,” she mumbles. “I care thatIlook like an idiot. ThatIwasted six years. That everyone at work is going to think I’m pathetic.”
I catch her eyes in the rearview mirror. Even drunk, the pain in them is gut-wrenching. “You’re not pathetic, Small Town.”
“But I am,” she insists, her voice breaking. “I’m the joke. I’m the one everyone’s going to whisper about, poke fun at.‘Poor Marley, couldn’t even keep her man.’And the worst part? I don’t even like him. I haven’t for a while. But somehow, he still gets to make me feel like… like I’m…”
“Like you’re what?” I ask gently.
“Worthless.” The word comes out so quietly, so broken, I almost don’t hear it. “He makes me feel worthless. And I hate that I let him do that to me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuuuck!
I pull the steering wheel harshly right in the middle of a residential street. Sage almost hits the window with the movement.
“Shit, dude,” Sage yelps as I put the car in park and twist around to look at Marley.
“Marley, look at me!” She lifts her glassy eyes to mine. “You arenotworthless,” I say, and every word is a vow. “You are brilliant, and you light up every room you walk into. That asshole couldn’t see what he had, and that’s on him. Not you.”
Her lip trembles. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.” I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. “And if anyone at your office whispers about you? Fuck them! They don’t matter. The only opinion that matters is yours.”
Sage, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet, speaks up, “He’s right, babe. Derek is a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve you. And anyone who thinks you’re a joke is blind.”
Marley’s eyes well with tears, and one spills over, tracking down her cheek. “I just… I hate feeling like this.”
“I know.” I reach back and gently wipe the tear away with my thumb. “But you won’t feel like this forever. I promise.”
She catches my hand, holding it against her cheek. Her skin is warm, flushed from the alcohol, and the touch sends electricity racing up my arm.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For coming. For… for everything.”
“Anytime, Small Town. I mean it… anytime.”
We stay like this for a moment longer before Sage clears her throat. “Okay, as heartwarming as this is, can we please get home? I think I’m gonna throw up.”
I turn back to the steering wheel and pull back into traffic. The rest of the drive passes in relative silence. By the time we reach Sage’s place, Marley is half asleep in the back seat, her head resting against the window.
I help Sage out first, then head around to Marley’s side. When I open the door, she nearly falls out, and I catch her with a grunt.
“Oopsie.” She giggles, looping her arms around my neck. “You caught me.”
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, lifting her into my arms. She’s light, so fucking light it makes my chest ache, and she burrows into me as if she belongs there.
Sage fumbles with her keys, cursing under her breath, and finally gets the door open. I carry Marley inside, following Sage’s directions to the guest room.
The room is small and cozy, with a double bed covered in a floral quilt. I set Marley down gently, and she immediately curls onto her side, her hair spilling across the pillow.
“Can you get her shoes off?” Sage asks, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
“Yeah.” I crouch down and carefully unlace Marley’s sneakers, slipping them off one at a time. She mumbles something incoherent, and I pull the quilt up over her, tucking it around her shoulders.
For a moment, I watch her. Her face is peaceful now, the worry lines smoothed away, and she looks so young. So vulnerable. Something fierce and protective roars to life in my chest, and I have to fist my hands to keep from reaching out and brushing the hair from her face.
She’s going to hate herself in the morning.
