Okay, sure, maybe this is the coward’s way out. Because I don’t want to be herfriend. I want to be the first person she calls when she needs something, the person she tells about her day, the guy who gets to see her face first thing every morning.
Then again, I haven’t earned that privilege. I threw that away when I left her in New Orleans. Maybefriendis the most I deserve—and I will honestly take whatever she will give me, if I get to be a part of her life.
“Because…” Another scrub of my neck. “Look, I don’t like that many people, okay? People as a general rule are shitty. They’re liars and backstabbers and…just shitty. But you? You’re a good person. And I want good in my life.”
I must have said the wrong thing again, because Helen cringes, shaking her head. “I’m not that good.”
“Trust me. You are.” For the first time since we started talking, I catch her gaze and actually manage to hold it. I try to put everything into that look—my hope, my sincerity, my regret at hurting her and my resolve to never, ever do it again. “Look, I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me. But I’ll be a good friend to you, if you’ll let me.”
Helen holds my gaze, her eyes searching for something in mine. I wish I could read her, but I realize now I never really could. She’s always been an enigma to me, acting in ways I can’t predict, with motives I’ll never be able to fully understand. But I want to. I want to know everything about her. All the goodness and warmth and humor and sassiness, yeah, but every freckle and scar on her soul, too.
I think some of this must show on my face, because I can see Helen’s gaze softening, just a little. Still, she sounds bewildered as she asks, “What would we even do together? We have nothing in common.”
Grinning through my racing heart, I hold up my book. “What are you talking about? We both love to read. I’ve read four—no, five whole books now.”
She fights a smile, but loses, and my heart clenches again, in a good way this time. “You want to talk about books?” She tries to load her voice with sarcasm, but neither of us is buying it.
I feel my own smile broaden, so wide it hurts. “And go on walks. Get food. Go to the movies. Friend stuff.” I only wince a little when I say that last part.
“I guess…we could try it.” She levels a finger at me—and despite the silliness of the gesture, I can see in her eyes she is dead serious. “But no deciding you need to protect me, or ghosting me, or saying you’re not good enough—none of that nonsense. If we’re friends, I need to be able to trust you.”
I swallow, trying to convey in my eyes, my tone, my smile, just how important, howsacred,all of this is to me. “I promise, Helen. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 49
Helen
I’m in week two of officially being Thad’s friend. I never realized what a loaded word that was before.Friend. I always assumed it must have a positive connotation, but now—now, it’s complicated. Because despite everything that’s happened between us, I trust that he hasn’t come back just to toy with me. If he says he’ll be a friend to me, he will.
My worry is that all he wants from me is friendship, and that every time I’m near him, my heart will race, and I’ll get clumsy and awkward and won’t know what to say, and I’ll wonder what he thinks about me, and I’ll catch my breath every time we touch.
My worry is that I’ll always be just a little bit in love with him.
But maybe…maybe with time that will dim. Maybe being friends might actually be a good thing, because it will take him off the pedestal in my mind. He’ll stop being this unreachable being—my first love, first kiss, first time—and just be Thad. My friend.
My friend, who brought me donuts at work to surprise me. And who took me to the film noir festival last week. And who texts me cute GIFs of puppies falling asleep before bed every night.
Normal friend stuff. I think. Nothing I should read anything into, right? Because we are just…friends.
“This is a terrible idea,” Matilda told me when I broke the news to her and Nina about Thad popping up in my life again.
Which, all things told, is a pretty standard Matilda reaction, and I’d braced myself for that. What I hadn’t braced myself for was Nina’s reaction—sort of the human equivalent of the grimacing face emoji.
And maybe they’re right. Maybe I am being stupid. Maybe this all will go catastrophically wrong.
But even knowing all of that, what I also know is that I’m not ready to let him go, even if we’ll only ever be friends.
I can get used to it. I will get used to it, and I’ll move on. Eventually.
Tonight, myfriendThad is making me dinner—his meemaw’s gumbo, which everyone knows is not a romantic food, so I’m in no danger of getting swept up in my feelings. And if it weren’t for the constant worry that I’m only falling more deeply in love with him with every minute we spend together, I might just be enjoying myself.
I give myself a mental slap to the face. I don’t want to be one of those creepy people who tries to force someone to be with me, especially when he’s made his feelings so clear. I’ve agreed to friendship, and so I will be his friend. I will move on, and he will, too, and I won’t let myself be weird about his new girlfriend, whenever she inevitably makes her grand appearance, and I won’t let pining over him keep me from being happy with someone else.
This too shall pass, and all that.
“You did not guess the murderer,” I chide Thad through my laughter, shaking my head as I dutifully chop up the peppers and celery and okra for dinner. Technically he’s supposed to be making dinner for me, but I couldn’t just sit around while he did all the cooking, especially in my own apartment, so I’m on vegetable-chopping duty.
“It was obvious. I figured it out by chapter three.”
