“Oh, no.” I curl an arm around my midsection and squeeze. “That’s okay, we don’t have to go into any of that.” I stand and step back from the table and raise my hands toward it. “I’m only here for this. And I can go now. We don’t have to say anything else about anything.”
“—you were right,” he continues as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “I hadn’t dealt with any part of that yet. I needed to before I could tell you what I’ve been thinking.” He pauses and looks down at the work we did together. “I never saw you coming, and I think that’s partly why I fought so hard against you in the beginning. I didn’t understand how I could be feeling the things I felt for you when I was supposed to already be feeling them for someone else.”
My body tenses, and I start to turn away, but his hand catches mine, warm and insistent.
“No, listen,” he says, his grip tightening slightly. “I didn’t understand because they weren’t the same. And that was the problem. I grew up with Eryn, and at first it was easy for us to shift from friends to more. But nothing really changed between us—our feelings never grew past friendship, not the way they should have. I might not have ever realized that if I hadn’t met you.”
“I don’t want to hear this.” I tug lightly to free my hand, but he doesn’t let go.
“I need you to hear,” he insists, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Because I’m trying to tell you I don’t regret it. Easy and uncomplicated wasn’t enough for either of us, and Eryn knows that now too.”
I stop halfheartedly trying to pull away. “She said that?”
He nods. “We talked, and she let me apologize for the way I treated her, but she didn’t blame me for realizing the same thing she was realizing herself.” He urges me closer. “The love that I have for her isn’t the right kind of love. I love her like a friend, but not more than that, and it’s the same for her.”
His gaze locks on mine, catching every tremor, every quickening breath. He reaches for my face and I cover his hand.
“What exactly are you saying to me?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He smiles as his hand slides over my jaw, his thumb brushing the curve of my cheek with a tenderness that makes my knees weak. “I’m saying that I don’t want you to quit, not the museum, and not me. Stay here on Nantucket and help me make McCleave’s the kind of place it always should have been, one with the biggest Kezia Gardner exhibit on the island if that’s what you want. I know you have more ideas, and some of them might not be awful.”
A shaky laugh escapes me
“And I want you, because nothing about you is easy or uncomplicated, and I don’t want to think about having to watch you walk away again.”
My heart gives a painful thump in my chest, even as it’s singing too. “I’m supposed to go to school in Maryland. I want to get myhistory degree and be able to come back here to Nantucket with something real to offer it.”
“I’m not saying don’t get your degree,” he says quickly, his eyes steady and serious. “In fact, I’m thinking about getting one of my own. I did some research and U of M doesn’t offer just in-person degrees. I could get mine without ever having to leave here to get it. You could too.”
I just stare at him, my heart pounding harder now. “You’re serious.”
He doesn’t blink. “As a spinal cord injury.” Then his hand eases. “Unless you really want to leave Nantucket.”
I step back, the sudden loss of his touch leaving a sharp ache behind as my thoughts spiral.
His voice is raw, like he’s choking on the words. “I mean, if you do, if that’s what you really want, then I won’t try to stop you.”
I still. “I’ve never wanted to leave Nantucket,” I admit, the truth tasting bittersweet on my tongue. “Not even when I was little.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and I see something close to relief in his eyes.
“But Wren... you’re saying a lot of things.”
His smile falters. “Is it me? Did you change your mind?”
I turn away, glancing up and trying to breathe through the lump in my throat. “You had a girlfriend a week ago.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Eryn and I haven’t had each other in a long time. We just admitted it to ourselves a week ago. There’s a difference.”
I nod slowly, my back still to him, but the words come out broken. “But to me, you had a girlfriend a week ago.”
He doesn’t have a ready answer to that.
I turn to face him, regret hitting me hard when I see the despair in his expression. “I think I need some time to think about everything.”
“Okay,” he says before his features can smooth into something less dejected. “That’s okay. Summer isn’t over yet. Your family isn’t planning to leave tomorrow, right?”
“No, not tomorrow.” Thanks to Graham, Mom hasn’t been packing as quickly as she normally does when we’re getting ready to leave a newly flipped house.
