Page 42 of For Fox Sake

The tips of his ears flush red. “Thanks.”

I reach over and rest my fingers on his forearm. “Here I am, basically using you as my therapist since the minute you arrived, dumping all my problems and drama all over you.”

I’m not used to having someone else I can rely on. I’m normally terrified to trust people, or let people in at all, but there’s something about Jake that’s different. Maybe it’s just his willingness to be vulnerable, to admit to his problems and how he’s working on them and working on himself. Why is that so attractive?

Maybe because every other man I’ve dated has had the emotional intelligence of a gerbil.

“I don’t mind being your sounding board. Everyone needs someone to talk to. Especially when you’re raising a child alone. You’re doing a great job. Ari is incredible.”

I smile. “She is. The best thing I’ve ever done. I’m so worried about messing up somehow, doing something wrong. Mia isn’t here and what if I screw it up?”

“You’re not screwing up anything. You’re doing the best you can.”

“What if my best isn’t enough? I’m not growing or changing. I’m not making my life better. I’m spending all my energy just holding on.”

“Your best will be enough. I was raised by my sister, and it all worked out. Finley was only eight when our mom left, and she has been like my mom ever since. Through everything, every bad decision, every time I passed out at Veronica’s and... she’s my best friend. The one person I know I can always count on, no matter how much of a dumbass I am.” He blinks, then frowns at the couch between us.

I look down, half expecting there to be a stain or something because of the look on his face, but it’s the same old brown fabric it’s always been. Not pretty or anything, but not necessarily “look of disgust” bad.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I—I need to call her. I just realized I’m still being a terrible brother.” He swipes his hand down his face.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s very true. I left Whitby sort of abruptly, without a proper goodbye.” His head falls back onto the couch, and he considers me. “I’m not sorry I came here though.”

My stomach flips. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

I grab my glass and take a sip of juice in an attempt to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. “Why did you leave Whitby? What made you pick Dull?”

He blinks and jerks his eyes from mine, picking up his own glass and taking a few deep pulls before setting it back down. “I needed to get away. I’ve spent my whole life in Whitby. I’ve never been anywhere else. My sisters, all four of them are in relationships and have been really busy with their own lives and I’m so happy for them. I want them to be happy but it’s also a little...” His brow furrows as he waves a hand.

“Isolating?”

“Yeah. Exactly. I’m like a ninth wheel.”

I laugh.

He shifts toward me, our knees brushing. “I needed to get away, you know? They are all incredible, supportive, and caring, but I’ve also put them through a wringer, and they feel like they need to take care of me and... hover, I guess. I needed to take care of myself. To prove to them I could do it, but to myself too.”

“Well from my perspective you’re extremely capable of caring for yourself. Not to mention frequently having to rescue your extremely needy neighbor, who is also your landlady.” I grimace. “Honestly, I feel like I’m taking advantage. You would tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?

“You’re not taking advantage and I’m not uncomfortable at all.” His eyes search mine and then snag on something to my left. “You have something.” He leans forward, reaching for my hair and tugging on it.

My eyes trace over his features while he gets whatever it is out of my hair. Probably glitter, or lint, or fluff from one of Ari’s many toys. He’s only inches away. His eyes are focused on the task, his lips pursed.

His very full, soft-looking, kissable lips.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ve almost got it.”

The gentle pressure on my scalp continues.

He smells like cologne and soap with a hint of cranberry juice.

I swallow. Why is this turning me on? It’s more than just the hair-pulling, it’s him. Everything about him.

He holds up a small piece of white fuzz and grins. “Ta-da.”

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