Page 128 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

She gives a disbelieving laugh. "Who have you bullied?"

"Teddy! Bill! Philip! I almost decked Matt’s dad ten minutes ago!"

She shakes her head, but it's because I've caught her in my snare the same way Arlo did with my mom. "Please try to understand,” I say. “I watched Arlo belittle and berate my mom for years. Nothing my mom did was good enough, and when I got old enough to tell him that, he punished her through me. I cannot become him. I cannot let you become my mom." My throat hitches. "I would sooner die."

The set of Ash's eyes changes as she raises her hands to my cheeks. "I don't want any misunderstanding between us," she says. "Are you telling me that you love me but can't be with me because you're afraid there’s a chance you’ll become Arlo?"

"Yes."

Her lips curl into a small smile. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." She moves her hands from my face to behind my neck.

"I don't get it."

"You've been in love with me for the better part of a year, right?" I nod. "And I was too dumb to realize we were perfect for each other partly because you hid a huge chunk of your personality and unintentionally friend-zoned me."

"Well—"

"Rusty, you waited patiently for me to figure out what you already knew in your heart, so I'm going to do the same. I'll wait patiently for you to figure out what I know."

"Which is?"

"That you are nothing like your nasty, miserable, pathetic excuse for a father," she says, sliding her hands up my neck and into my hair. "You are the very best person I've ever known, and that's saying a lot, because Greg is practically Father Teresa." Her fingers are firm on my head, pushing pressure points in a massage that makes my legs wobble. "Farm Boy, we have the kind of love that could last the ages. We could be the couple everyone else holds up as their ideal. Girls would turn down men who don't look at them the way you look at me. Guys would hold out for a girl who's as obsessed with them as I am with you. We are it. I've gone my whole life wanting to feel the way you make me feel. Now it's my turn to wait for you to catch up."

I feel like my heart has been put in a blender and is being poured out in front of me. Her telling me she loves me now hurts worse than my unrequited love ever did. "Ash, it's a risk I can't take. I'm Arlo's son. Boyd’s grandson. I don't get to be with you."

"Oh, sweet boy, you don't have a choice. You promised me that we'd still be us and that our friendship wouldn't suffer. You never pushed me, but unfortunately for your sake, I'm not as noble as you are. I'll try to give you the time you need, but you know how I get when I hyperfocus. Nothing else exists until the project is complete. And you are my project. Or we are."

Frustration makes me remove her hands from my neck.

She puts them back up immediately.

"Ash—"

"Whoops! I can't imagine how they got there."

I remove them again, this time holding them in mine.

"This is nice," she says, looking at our hands.

I drop them. "Ash."

"Yes, lovah?" She overemphasizes the word. Then she snorts. "I really hate that word. Doesn't it just sound gross? So why do I love calling you my lovah so much?"

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Then look in a mirror and see yourself the way every other person in the world sees you. And then give in and let me have my way." She smiles, biting her lip far too playfully. "You know you want to."

I want to more than anything. But that selfish instinct is exactly what Arlo would do.

"I can't. I don't get to have you."

I kiss her hands and then drop them and walk to my car.

"See you tomorrow, Farm Boy!" she calls after me.

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