Page 109 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"We're made for each other," she says, taking a big bite of her ice cream.

Yes we are.

"You know, the first time I ever came here was with Tag Carville. He drove me home from a … doctor's appointment and took me here," I say.

"Why was he taking you to the doctor?"

My shoulders tense, and I wish I could take back my words. "Not important," I say, although that's far from the truth. "He ordered me one of every single scoop in the shop and let me eat myself sick."

"That's adorable," she says. She plays with my hand in the middle of the table, but she looks like she's biting back a million questions. "Which was your favorite?"

"Oddly enough, not 'earthworm explosion.'"

She laughs again. "Oh, stop. You love it. You're a gummy fanatic at heart."

I take a few more licks of my cone. She's so much more fearless than I am, even eating an ice cream cone. I lick in a perfect order, making sure nothing spills down the sides of the cone. She bites with her whole mouth, letting melted ice cream drip down her pinky. She just licks it off.

Then she looks at me with an earnestness at odds with the final gummy worm she's nabbed from my cone.

"I'm sorry you were at the doctor."

"I had a broken jaw," I blurt. I drop my gaze to our clasped hands. "I was suckin' food through a straw for six weeks. He tried to take me to get a burger first, but it was a little too hard to chew after so many weeks, and my jaw got tired. So he took me here."

"Rusty—"

"I don't know what I would have done without Tag. He's the one who put me in a hockey league with guys years older than me. I was madder than a hornet most of the time. I was so scared and afraid and angry. He thought the safest thing for me would be to compete against guys bigger, stronger, and faster than me. He thought it would help if I could channel my fear and aggression into healthy competition."

"No one should have made you feel that afraid," she whispers. "No one."

Ash's lip curls up when she says this, and I'm struck by the fact that I've never seen this look before. I've never seen her filled with … hurt. With indignation.

For me.

She stands and moves her chair right next to mine. Then she wiggles underneath my arm, takes a bite of my ice cream, and then continues eating hers.

"I'm sorry you had Arlo. I'm so sorry," she says. "But I'm glad you had Tag."

A drip of ice cream melts down my cone, and Ash licks it off before it can reach my hand.

"I'm sorry you had Frank, but I'm glad you have Greg."

Ash pauses. "I've always wondered why Greg didn't legally adopt me. My mom didn't legally adopt my brothers because their mom passed away and she never wanted to replace her. But Frank sucks. I wanted Greg to replace him. Sometimes I worry he's relieved he's not my real dad."

I hold Ash tight. So this is why she looked pained when I called her parents Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. She’s not a Jackson, at least not legally. Does she not know how much Greg adores her?

"I think Greg loves you as much as any dad could love a daughter. His eyes light up the second your face comes on the screen. He FaceTimes you at least once a week because he misses seeing you so much. I bet it would break his heart if he knew how you feel."

She sounds choked. "I wish."

I rest my head against hers. "Have you ever asked them about it?"

"No. I'm afraid of the answer."

"I get that. But I think you should."

She looks up at me. "Why are you so sure this would work out in my favor?"

"Because Greg called me a few days ago and threatened to pull me apart like string cheese if I hurt his baby girl."

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