Page 40

“I can’t say I expected anything less, but—it was obviously not my finest moment.”

“I would hope not. So how did a potential personal injury lawsuit become”—she waved vaguely around them—“this.”

Aster was quiet, consideration evident, before he finally said, “I can’t really speak for you. We’ve talked, of course, but I couldn’t possibly explain your side of it.”

Molly reached for her braid dangling over her shoulder, disappointed.

He continued, “But I could tell you when it changed for me.”

Tension pulled taut across the space between them as Molly waited.

“It’s ironic you mention a personal injury lawsuit, because my parents were convinced you’d sue us. I was explicitly told to stay away from you, lest my actions be seen as an admission of guilt. But I—I did feel guilty. How much did Roy and Alannah cover? Did they say how it happened?”

“Something about a malfunctioning signal and an overgrown hedge?”

“That’s all true, but I was also distracted. I’d just gotten into a huge fight with my parents, and I know I wasn’t paying enough attention and—” He stopped, lips rolled between his teeth, eyes locked on Molly’s leg. “It didn’t—doesn’t matter what the investigation report says. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop feeling like it was my fault. And maybe a different person could go through that and then behave as if they owed you nothing, but I discovered a few personal limits that day. Trying to make any kind of amends felt like the least I could do. So, I more or less forced you into letting me help you get around campus, to your classes and appointments and all of it. I—uh, I apologized for a different thing pretty much every day. It was like a dam had broken and I couldn’t hold it all in anymore. You never really responded. And then one day—weeks into it—you looked at me, gave me this whole speech about how an apology isn’t always enough, and then forgave me anyway. For all of it. And then you thanked me. It almost killed me, how hard I realized I’d fallen right then.”

Molly had to look away. In an approximation of something like memory, her shin twinged.

“I always knew you were smart,” he continued. “But I’d never once considered that you were kind. And giving. It’s like I’d blinked, and you went from being this two-dimensional rival in my head to a real, living person right next to me. I swear, if we hadn’t already been parked, I might have crashed my car again.” Aster dragged a hand down his face, a silver band glinting at Molly from his fourth finger.

“Probably a good thing you didn’t, all things considered,” she said.

Molly shifted, knees nearly touching him. A distance of almost nothing and somehow everything at the same time. It was amazing to consider: a ceasefire in her mind where Aster Bishop wasn’t Aster Bishop, but just Aster, the man in front of her. The man who had, as Eli said, bound his life and heart and soul to hers.

Pawntès hopped onto her lap, pulling Molly from her astonishment.

“I think,” Aster continued, “once I let myself look, really see you, I couldn’t unsee you. If that makes any sense. All that drive and generosity and—”

“Righteous indignation for the working class?”

Aster’s mouth twisted to a wry smile. “Yes, that too. But you are more than just your altruistic traits, you know. Can’t have you thinking I respect you too much.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” Aster said, leaning a touch closer. And suddenly, a hint of conspiracy in his expression, lighthearted and lovely, sucked Molly in. “There’s also the way the light hits your eyes, and I could swear you’re playing a trick on me. They’re brown and they’re gold and they’re almost reddish. Like I’m looking straight into the Grand Canyon in the middle of New England.”

“I have geological phenomena for eyes?”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Still feels pretty respectful.” A slip from her tongue before Molly could think better of it.

The conspiracy on Aster’s face doubled in the space of a blink.

“Then there’s the braid. Your hair is my favorite when it’s free to be as wild as it wants, but the braid has its benefits.” He paused, locked eyes with her, and leaned away again, casual as can be. “It wraps so prettily around my fist.”

Molly shot up off the sofa, face flushing hot with embarrassment. That was a train of thought she absolutely did not have the courage to follow down its tracks. She had no idea what to do with the delicious thrill unexpectedly licking through her. She sucked in a breath, seeking redirection. “I . . . um . . . think I’m going to go to bed.”

Aster looked shocked with himself, posture half stuck between pushing off the sofa and sinking deeper into it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s fine. I asked you to open up. It’s okay. It’s just—it’s okay.” It was significantly more than she expected, but it was so much better than guarded silence.

Molly paused before heading to the bedroom. Reassurance, Eli had said. She could offer a little of that. “Aster?” she asked. It was an unnecessary question, his eyes hadn’t stopped following her; she already had his attention. “Why are you still sleeping on the sofa? You could sleep in your own bed if you wanted. We could figure it out.”

“Ah—I couldn’t, really. I think it would be too hard. And the spare room is a little cramped at the moment, so . . .” He ran a hand along the blue upholstery beneath him, a sad smile forming. “Besides, some things are precious in their own way. We’ve been through a lot, us and this sofa.”

When Molly made her way to bed, she tried the spare room door again out of curiosity.