And I hated that some small, treacherous part of me actually felt sorry for the woman who had ruined my life. I struggled with whether I really felt sorry for her or if I just felt bad that Harley had to deal with the aftermath.
“That has to be hard on Harley.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, my gaze falling back on the wood in my hands because that was easier than the alternative. “I didn’t ask.”
I couldn’t afford to ask.
“How come?”
“Because being with him broke me,” I said bitterly. “Look at how my life turned out? I’m a goddamn felon. I just got off parole. I’ve been stuck in this town with this job with people who… most of them won’t even look my way because of everything. Not unless they have to.”
I sighed, my mind running faster than I could keep up with.
“Besides, I’m over him. I’m better off without him.”
The words sounded practiced, and they should have. I’d recited them to myself for years. Distance from Harley was the smart decision. Distance kept me safe. Distance meant I couldn’t get hurt.
“How’s that dating life been, kid?” Bobby asked.
I shot him a look.He had to be kidding, right?
“I’ve been in prison, Bobby.”
“Not for the last eighteen months you haven’t.”
“Yeah, but that’s…”
“Different?” he finished for me. “Is it really all that different, or are you just using that as an excuse because you’re not ready to admit you’re still in love with him?”
The truth rose up so fast that it scared me, a knee-jerk response fueled by vulnerability and trust in Bobby’s presence. I crushed it before I could say the words out loud. My scowl deepened, and I focused on my breathing.In. Out. In. Out. I focused on the vibration of the pen in my hand and the scent of the wood in the shop to ground me.
Really, I focused on anything that wasn’t Harley and his permanent place in my chest like he paid rent there.
“I’m not saying you have to get back together with him,” he continued, “and I’m not saying you have to trust him again, but I think after everything, it’s important that you properly frame things.”
“And what’s that look like?” I demanded.
“That you did the wrong thing for the right reason, and you’re still mad at yourself for it,” Bobby said.
I froze at the raw honesty of his words. Every nerve in my body buzzed uncomfortably with the spike of anxiety inside me.
“Harley’s only fault in everything was that he wanted to be with you. I’m not saying what you did was wrong, Maverick. You were faced with an impossible decision at the hands of a bad person. But I am saying that I think you’re mad at yourself for hurting him the way you did, and now you’re forced to face that decision because he’s here.”
I swallowed hard.He was right.Not surprising. Bobby was always right.
“I’m not a big fan of you right now,” I muttered.
“You don’t have to be,” he replied calmly. “But we all need someone to keep us honest sometimes.”
I nodded slowly, lips pressed together tight enough to hurt. The workshop fell quiet except for the hum of the engraver in my hand as our conversation played on repeat in my head.
Honest.
If I was being honest, I was scared of facing Harley—of seeing the aftermath of what I’d done to him.
Was his sadness my fault?
Had I broken him in a way he’d never truly recover from?
