Page 8 of Falling for You

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you had a supremely shitty day.”

“I’ve had worse.” I shrug as if it’s not a big deal, but the truth is, I have had much worse days. And I know that today was just one of thoseeverything is going to hit you at oncedays and tomorrow will be better.

“I’m sorry for that, too.”

I shrug again because what else is there to do? I can’t turn back time and stop my mother from getting cancer. I can’t take away the day she told me I have a brother or the way I spoke to his father when I told him I didn’t want to have anything to do with either of them. I had no reason for it, but grief had warped my mind and all rational behavior had left the building. I chewed Paul out for daring to come see my mother, even though I was the one who called him and asked him to come. Then I told him that under no circumstance would I ever have anything to do with his son.

Regret for my behavior and words I said didn’t hit me until after I buried my mother. I placed a single red rose on her grave, standing alone. When I turned around, prepared to leave, I saw Paul standing off to the side. Offering his support to me. And once again, I brushed him off as if he didn’t matter, walking past him without uttering a single word of thanks or even a simple hello. Later that night, I lay in bed feeling lonelier than I’d ever felt before, and cried for two days straight. For the loss of my mother, but also for isolating myself from the only family I had left.

“Why am I here?” I ask for the third time.

He rests against the back of the chair, legs spread wide. He’s the picture of relaxation while I’m strung tight. “I wish I could give you a better reason than I did before but really, it’s because I didn’t have a choice. Something about you pulled me in.”

“That’s a charming line that I’m sure works on all the ladies,” I sass.

“Normally I don’t have to use lines,” he tells me unapologetically. “That might sound like a dick thing to say, but it’s the truth and I figured you could use a little honesty.”

“So, what? They just come to you?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Not surprising,” I mumble.

He stands from his seat and I watch as his legs eat up the distance between us. His brown boots thud against the tile floor.

Rex stands about a foot from me, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest. “It wasn’t a line or me trying to charm you or feed you bullshit, Chloe. If there’s anything that I can guarantee you I’m not, it’s a liar. I grew up in a family who centered their lives around one lie after another and I refuse to bethat.”

“Okay?” I realize that most of my comments come out as a question but I’m still confused. He said something about me pulled me to him. What does that even mean? Plus, he’s talking like we’re on date and he’s promising me the way he’ll be — or not be — in a relationship. “Well, this has all been fun, rehashing my train wreck of a life with a complete stranger, but I’m sure my friends are curious about why I haven’t returned.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding disappointed and I can’t help but feel the same that he didn’t seem to put up a fight for me saying I’m leaving. Strange.

“Well, thanks, for letting me cry on your shoulder.”

“Technically, you never cried on my shoulder and only let out a few tears.”

“Hmm. True. So basically you just kidnapped me, made me fall on my ass, which actually kind of hurt, by the way, and made me spill my guts all because you… how did you put it?Felt pulled to me?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Hmm,” I hum again. I’m not uncomfortable but I definitely am out of my element. “Okay well, nice meeting you,” I say, turning to go out the door and back to my friends.

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

I’m just about to walk through the door when I hear him say “Fuck it” and then louder, “Wait.”

I spin around and see him pinching the bridge of his nose, glasses pushed up a bit.

“What?”

“Did you drive here?”

“Huh?”

“Did you drive here?” he repeats.

I turn my head to the side. “No, I took a horse and buggy.”

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