Lila frowns, leaning against the counter in her kitchen. “Hockey has always been a big part of his life. Our dad was the one that got him into it. Or at least, that’s what he told me. I was too young to remember all that. It’s just important to him, and I get that, but I still don’t think it’s worth him practically losing an arm over.”
I shrug, remembering that I had decided none of this was my business.
I think the only reason Iamstill thinking of it isbecauseof Jack’s offer. It still sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but sitting here on this couch that has been my bed for three weeks now, trying to fit into this dynamic that I feel like I don’t belong in…I can’t pretend I haven’t been thinking about it. It’s not as if I ever have to interact with him if I don’t want to. I would have the privacy of my own room, after all. But do we really think that Jack and I could cohabitate without one of us (probably me) strangling the other? The odds are decidedly slim.
The oven dings from beside Lila, and she quickly dons her oven mitts to take her casserole out, placing it on top of the oven and grinning back at Ian and me.
“Who’s hungry?”
“I should probably finish this…” I protest weakly, my stomach already growling.
Ian squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be there when you’re done.”
I eye the cheesy goodness that peeks up from over the rim of the casserole dish on the counter, my mouth watering.
“I guess it can wait a little bit.”
Dinner consists of the samething it usually does—Ian and Lila chat and laugh around me, trying to include me in the conversation, with me doing my best to be a part of things without feeling awkward about it all. I still don’t love the idea of taking their charity, so every night that Lila feeds me and refuses to let me help or pitch in, I feel a little more uncomfortable about it all. Not that they evermakeme feel that way—no, they’re perfect, and I know they truly don’t mind that I’m here…it’s me who’s the problem.
“So have you heard any news about your apartment?” Ian asks, as if reading my thoughts.
I huff out a sigh. “Now they’re having to replace all the flooring. They found mold there too. It could put them another month behind.”
“Well, fuck,” Ian says sympathetically.
Lila points her fork at me. “Well you know you’re welcome to the couch for as long as you need. I just wish I had another bedroom for you. I doubt it’s the most comfortable.”
“It’s fine,” I say hurriedly. “I really appreciate you guys letting me stay.”
“We want you here,” Ian says warmly. “Of course we do.”
My phone buzzes against the table then and I pick it up, wincing when I see the name and immediately placing it back face down. Ian notices all of this, frowning.
“Is it him again?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“I think we should get you a restraining order,” he says.
I shake my head. “That seems drastic.”
“He’s harassing you!” Ian scoffs. “He has no business contacting you at all.”
I know he’s right, Iknowthat—but how can I tell him that there is still some pathetic part of me that craves the attention? Even if it’s not exactly positive, at least he’s stilltalkingto me.
God, that reallydoessound pathetic, even in my head.
“I’m really sorry that you’re still dealing with it,” Lila says with sympathy in her tone.
“It’s fine, really,” I assure her. “I can handle it.”
“I could talk to him,” Ian offers. “Get him to leave you alone.”
“No, no, really. It’s nothing for you guys to worry about. I can handle it, seriously.”
“Abby…” Ian sighs. “You shouldn’t have to handle it. You’ve already been through so much. You don’t need Dad’s continued bullshit on top of everything else.”
I feel myself tense under the weight of their pitying stares, feeling that creeping sense of unease settle under my skin. It’s like when they look at me, all they see is everything I’ve been through. Never mind that Ian has been through just as much—or even Lila, for that matter. Why is itmewho has to be the winner of the sympathy championship?
