“I’ve got snacks,” I call out, wandering down the hall.
The bedroom’s as comfortable a place as any for us to talk. But Loren’s not in the bedroom. She’s in the big walk-in closet, stuffing her clothes into a duffel bag. The row of empty hangers sends a ripple of goosebumps up my spine.
“Hey, there. Slow down.” I set the bottles and donuts on the dresser. “I know my mom comes on strong when she’s trying to throw her weight around, but we aren’t getting kicked out today.” My forced chuckle sounds hollow, even to me. “There’s a process. We have time.”
“Do we?” She looks up from her crouch, her breath coming in quick, short sips. Like she’s panicking. My mom did this to her, and Loren wasn’t prepared. But I knew better. And more than anything, I want to roll back time and do everything differently to protect her from whatever she’s feeling right now.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice a low rumble. “About my mom. I should’ve never let you get involved.”
“You didn’tletme.” She spits a loose strand of hair from her mouth. “I basically forced you. If anyone’s to blame for all this, it’s me.”
“Well, you’re obviously mad.” The tension already brewing in my torso kicks up a notch. “I am too. Seriously pissed off. But … didIdo something wrong here?”
“NO!” she blurts.
“So, it’s my mom then?”
“Yes … and …” Loren heaves a long sigh. “I’m furious with theentire world. With my whole life in general and everything in it.”
“Last I checked, I was part of the world, and a part of your life," I say. “At least I hoped I was. I hope Iam. I still want to be.”
Her eyes fill, and she looks down at her bag. “I swear I’m not mad at you. Not even a little bit.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “You’re by far my favorite person. Of all the people. All the time.”
I squint. “If that’s true, then why are you packing?”
She brings her gaze up to mine. “Because you being my favorite person is the last thing I need right now.”
My guts hit the floor.
“Okay, wow.” I drag a hand along the back of my neck, and my mouth opens and shuts wordlessly.
“I’m sorry, but I just need tothink, Bridger.”
“Yeah, me too,” I grunt. “And I assumed we could do that together, now that my mom’s gone.”
“Well, she didn’t exactly leave us a smooth exit ramp on her departure, did she?”
“She did not.” I grimace. “Margaret Adams is definitely more into turbulence.” I take a beat, nodding pointlessly toward the window. “But she’s gone now. And I swear, I’ll never let her have access to you again. Or to us. I’m cutting her out completely.”
“You can’t do that.” Her voice cracks. “Because then she’ll use that stupid napkin as a weapon. And you’ll lose everything. Because of me.”
“Not everything.” The words are gravel. “I’ll still have you.”
“No, no, no,” she mutters. “I can’t let you do that. This is all my fault.” She’s talking to her duffel bag more than me. “I never should’ve let myself relax. This is exactly why I can’ttake help from anyone. Because you just don’t know. You never can. I never do.”
“Loren.” I’m trying to stay calm and rational, even as a spool of dread unravels in my gut. “Who doesn’t knowwhatnow?”
“This, Bridger. All of this.” She splays her hands wide. “I started to believe. To plan. To dream. I let my guard down and spentweeksliving in a fantasy land. And I’ll always be grateful for that. Most women never get to be Cinderella, even for a day. Or the queen of the world. Or Galileo’s wife …” Her sentence trails off.
“So, what then? We’re not even going to talk about this?”
“I just have to think,” she mumbles.
“Yeah. So you mentioned.” My shoulders stiffen. “And apparently, said thinking can’t happen with me, is that it?”
“Ican’tthink when I’m around you, Bridger.” Her face goes ashen. “These days, I can barelybreathearound you. When we’re together, all I want to do is kiss you and eat donuts and watchSurprise Brideand fall asleep in your arms.”
“And that’s a problem because …?”