“Because I thought I was better than her,” I say. To my surprise, my throat stings. “And all the success she had drove me crazy, like she didn’t deserve it. Her being valedictorian. The way other people still liked her despite the fact she had nothing. It’s like she was spitting in the face of everything important to me.” Tears track down my cheeks. “And I own that. I’ve apologized, and I’ve done work to try and make up for it. It was my fault. But who do you think taught me that?” I gesture to the door. “Look at how you just treated her yourself!”
Dad hangs his head. When he looks up at me again, his mouth flattens. “I shouldn’t have said those things to her, I’ll admit. But I was concerned about her intentions. You have to admit you aren’t the most likely pair.”
I use my sleeve to wipe under my eyes. “Like I said, she’s the one who’s too good for me.”
My parents are quiet. My mother sniffles, and I can see that her cheeks are wet.
“Well, Son,” Dad says, “if you like her, and she likes you, too, we can accept that.” He clears his throat. “Even though it’s hard to see it working out.”
“I do have feelings for her,” I say quietly. “You have no idea how much. And I don’t know what she thinks now.” I shift my weight. “After how you two made her feel.”
Dad shares a look with Mom I don’t understand, an expression that speaks to a shared secret. A moment of curiosity arises, but I shake it off. I don’t even care.
They turn back to me, and my mom has the decency to look ashamed. She stands. “I think we’ll leave you alone,” she says.
“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”
She hugs me, and Dad thumps me on the shoulder. I retreat to my room, where I text Kendall another apology. She doesn’t respond, which is fine.
I flop to my bed and dig my head into my pillow. What am I going to do now?
22
KENDALL
I don’t really see Grant again until Tuesday. We’re in the OR together, and from the way he looks at me, he has things to say. I’m not really in the mood to hear it. God, do I like watching him operate though. His strength is mesmerizing, how he’s so calm and collected. And competent. I’m a quivering puddle. Watching a man who’s great at something, who has spent time honing a craft, is like a shot of erotic stimulant in my veins.
He jokes a little with the attending, even. He’s getting more comfortable. I want him to succeed, despite my otherwise mixed feelings.
He finds me in between cases. I had time to go get an iced coffee during the break, which rarely happens, and now I’m standing next to the fridge in the employee area eating a granola bar.
It’s unfair that he looks so hot in his scrubs. His hair is swept to one side. His triceps ripple when he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and I have to snap my lips together to keep from making a noise.
He inches close to me after glancing around. “I gave my parents a dressing down after you left Sunday,” he says. “Theydidn’t stay after that.” He inhales. “I also told them about what I did to you. When we were young.”
“Okay.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Were they upset?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. Of course. But I think they realize their error now.”
“Grant.” The way I say his name makes him blanch. He knows what’s coming. “How I felt around your parents . . . I haven’t felt like that in a long time. Like I’m garbage. It might take me some time to get over that.”
“Yeah, of course.” He nods. “And I’m sorry, again. For the hundredth time, I know. Maybe I can make it up to you?”
“Maybe.” I smile, but it’s stiff.
Another staff members barrels into the room, so we move further apart. The look on Grant’s face makes my heart pinch, but then I’m angry at myself for it. I can’t be responsible for his feelings like that.
“I’ll talk with you later,” he says, and I nod.
I avoid him for most of the day, even though I sneak surreptitious glances his way.
In a way, I understand why he still maintains a relationship with his parents, despite how snobby and elitist they are. Where we’re from, people don’t cut off family members that easily—and when they do, it tends to be for good. Young people are a bit better at boundaries, yes, but there’s still a lot of pressure to maintain that connection for mountain folks, even when you move away. It’s why I’m still talking to my dad despite what he was like when I was growing up. Even though I understand it, however, that doesn’t mean I have to subject myself to people who think I’m lesser.
I wish it wasn’t like this. That we were different people, and I could care about him without complication. It’s for the best, though, if I distance myself. I’ve gotten over everything else, and I can get over this.
Dr. Fields stops me from leaving at the end of the day.
“Can we chat?”
