Pops studied my face and took a deep breath. “Was it him?”
I chewed on my bottom lip for a second. “You know, your generation of parenting doesn’t believe in allowing one space to process emotions, and I find that utter bullshit at the moment.”
“Sweetheart, you could have a week and it wouldn’t help you.” It was said kindly, with the very best of intent, and I wanted to rage at him for saying it, but God, he wasn’t wrong. “You’ll just keep tangling yourself up until there’s no fixing it other than to cut the knot out. Talk to me, bug.”
This was what he did for me. What he’d always done.
It was impossible not to have flashbacks from when I’d told him I was pregnant with Gavin. I’d held on to that little bombshell for a while, until he could see the weight of the secret on my face. It wasn’t until I processed it with him that I could see a way out that worked for me.
And much like he had so many years ago, Pops sat quietly, my hand in his, and just listened. I didn’t cry when I told him—about meeting Archer at the bar, about the fight at his dad’s, the kiss—but his eyes closed when I got to the part about Gavin interrupting us and the drama that followed.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Pops, I’ve never been more confused.” I tucked myself into the couch, folding my legs up to my chest and laying my chin on my knees. “And that’s saying something, because being pregnant at seventeen was awfully confusing.”
“What’s confusing to you?”
I blinked. “Well ... all of it. He’s doing the self-sacrificing thing and walking away. Shouldn’t I be relieved? I told him I wasn’t sure I could do this. But I’m not relieved. I feel like—” I set my hand on my chest and rubbed the dull ache that had taken up residence there. “Like he broke my heart. I have feelings for him, and it didn’t feel fair to say it out loud. Like I would make it worse if I told him.”
“Mm-hmm. Anyone with eyes could see that. But you’ve been attracted to people before and I didn’t come home to ... whatever that is in the kitchen.”
“Big feelings,” I whispered.
“Nothing wrong with those either.”
I dropped my head into my hands and sighed. “But it feels impossible when I look at my life and then I look at his.”
“‘Impossible.’” His eyes stayed steady on mine. “That’s a strong word.”
“Feelsimpossible. I’m not saying it is,” I amended. “But ... think about Gavin. How am I supposed to ask him to navigate me dating someone like Archer? Today was hard enough, and that wasn’t even a real argument. A real breakup. Can you imagine what it would do to Gavin if those things happened? At school and with his friends, and ... I’d feel like ...” My voice trailed off because something big and thorny swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t force it out.
“Feel like what?” he asked, so patient and unrattled by everything I’d told him that it was almost unnerving. That wasmyrole. I was the one who couldn’t be shaken. But here I was. Thoroughly and completely shook.
I was the one people came to when they needed advice or help or a steady listening presence. Being on the other end, for the first time in a very long time, was disconcerting.
“Selfish,” I admitted in a thick voice. “Like the most selfish thing I could possibly do. I want him so badly, it terrifies me that I’ll let it take over.” My voice faded to a whisper. “That everything will come second to what he makes me feel.”
The words slipped through a crack in my chest—hairline thin, invisible to the naked eye. Until they rolled so easily off my tongue, I hadn’t even known they were there. Wasn’t that how it worked, though? There was something different about being in a safe place, with a safe person. We found ourselves admitting things out loud that we hardly dared to think inside our own minds.
I’d been running in terror from that feeling from the moment I met Archer, from that white-knuckled grip of attraction that felt wild and big and ... destructive.
Like we’d lay waste to everything around us if we so much as tiptoed into the banked heat that framed every single interaction.
Pops sat back on the couch and folded his hands over his stomach, peering at my face so intently that I started fidgeting.
“What?” I asked.
He lowered his voice even though Gavin’s door was closed. “It feels selfish to find happiness with someone?”
Something about his question made me feel a sharp edge of panic on my next inhale. It was too simplified. Too stripped down to encompass what this really was.
“Remi,” he prodded gently. “Does it?”
“No.” I picked at my fingernails, a wave of sadness crashing against my sternum. “But his job—”
“That’s not what I asked.” He refused to look away. I wanted to hide from what I saw in his eyes. “Did you know about his job the night you met him?”