“That was some bullshit.”
I nodded in agreement.Another great example of why I hate it here.
A spark ignited between us suddenly, and I realized I was still holding his hand.
I quickly let it go. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Thinking about the things being said by people I didn’t even remember, I felt the weight of being in Chance on my shoulders. “I should get going,” I whispered.
“See you Sunday?”
My lips curled into a smile, and I confirmed, “See you Sunday.”
I pulled out of the parking spot. As I looked back at him in the rearview mirror, my stomach fluttered again.He defended me.
It was equal parts sexy, sweet, and surprising.
I spent most of my life in Chance ignoring the bullshit, but sometimes, if necessary, I’d confront them and defend myself. But I’dnever had someone defend me before. I’d never had someone be willing to fight for me before.
Certainly not in Chance.
Checking my mirrors before I turned, I caught a glimpse of myself. Surprisingly, I looked a little better than I had when I’d arrived. And I felt a little better, too.
4
Aunt Addy’s first cardiac event had been so intense that she’d been put on life support. Less than a year later, her heart issues resulted in a critical hospital stint followed by hospice care. And earlier this year, she got sick, and the doctors couldn’t explain it. They said there was nothing else they could do for her.
She’d graduated from hospice services after two months.
She wasn’t just a survivor. She was a fighter.
It was clear each cardiac event had taken a physical toll on her. She’d be slightly slower and weaker. But her mind was still sharp. She’d kept her same attitude, her same quirky responses, and she’d be back home within a couple days of recovery. But watching her go through her morning and afternoon therapies, I knew this time was different. The stroke hadn’t just impacted her speech; it had impacted her mobility.
“I’m proud of you for not hitting them,” Aunt Addy responded to the end of my story. “But you should’ve. Clearly, they forgot what those fists of yours can do.”
Snickering, I nodded. “Clearly!”
She sighed loudly as she gazed up at me. “You deserved better than what this town gave you.”
“I wish Mom and Dad saw the world like you. Maybe I could’ve gone to school in another town or even a boarding school.”
“The accelerated program at Chance is still one of the best on the East Coast.”
“And they weren’t going to prioritize my social life over my education.”
“Your parents love you very much, and they did the best they could.”
“I know. But…” I exhaled. “They weren’t going to do anything that made them look like bad parents.”
She smirked, knowing what I’d said was true. “They were wrong, but they had good intentions.”
“Their good intentions paved the way for me to live the perfect little life.” My sardonic tone and eye roll communicated my true feelings.
She gave me the same sympathetic look she always did. “Your dad always felt like he had to prove people wrong. He has always been a ‘never let them see you sweat’ kind of guy—even when he was young. So the way he handled your issues at school was more about him and less about you. You know I tried to talk to him, but…” She made a face. “There’s no reasoning with people who have to be right all the time.”
“And not to mention that Mom and Dad are both perfectionists. They have a hard time straying from their idea of how life should be lived.”
