Page 72 of I Saw Her First

The thought makes me cringe, but Jess doesn’t seem to notice. He leans back on one elbow on the bar, exhaling long and slow as he brings his gaze to mine.

“So, uh, I wanted to apologize for the way everything went down at the beach house. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I was a complete douche. You didn’t deserve that.”

I blink, unsure of what to say.

“And I want you to know, nothing happened with that chick. But… it was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

I swallow, processing this. “I… thanks, Jess. I appreciate that.” I think back to the part I played in our relationship and sigh. I can’t tell him I had—have—feelings for Wes, obviously, but I also want to apologize for my role in things. “I’m sorry, too.”

He shakes his head, gaze falling to his hands. “Nah, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have been more patient.” His gaze lifts back to mine. “I’ll always regret fucking things up between us, Daisy.” He draws breath to say something more, and panic pierces my chest at the possibility that he might be about to say we should give things another shot.

“How’s your dad?” I blurt. Inexplicably. Because I know how his dad is—he’s good. We made love again after dinner last night, slowly, tenderly, and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. So if Wes is feeling anything like I am—and I think he is—then he’s pretty damn good indeed.

Apart from things with Jess. Wes doesn’t talk about his son much, and that’s not because he doesn’t want to mention him around me. It’s because he doesn’t want to think about him. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s lost. And that breaks my heart.

A frown creases Jesse’s forehead. “No idea,” he mutters. And just like that, he’s back to being the same sullen guy I wanted to break up with in Greenport.

Well, not quite. That guy wouldn’t have apologized to me so sincerely, would never have admitted he was wrong, and regretted his actions. It’s funny how time can make a person reflect on things. Why can’t he do the same with Weston?

Still, I can tell he’s grown in the short time we’ve been apart, even if just a little. Maybe I can work with that.

“Are you really sorry about what happened at the beach house?” I ask carefully.

Jesse’s gaze flies to mine. “Of course. I was an asshole.”

I nod, deciding to try my luck. “I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

His brow knits. “Okay… What’s that?”

“You make up with your dad.”

Jess scoffs, leaning back. “No way.”

“Look.” I lean forward, hazarding a hand on his arm. He glances down in surprise, softening. “I know you never wanted to talk about this with me, and I’m sorry for pushing you, but your dad…” How do I say this without giving anything away? “He’s a good man, Jess. He cares about you so much, and—”

“You don’t know what he did,” Jess interrupts.

“I do.” I squeeze Jesse’s arm gently. “He told me what happened, why you’re so mad at him.”

Jesse’s eyes widen. “He did? When?”

I roll my lips to the side, wondering how much to share. I don’t want to lie, but I need Jess to believe me. “I… spent a little time with him while you were out partying in Greenport.” That, at least, isn’t a lie.

It seems to pluck at the string of guilt Jess feels about our time away, because he sighs, slumping against the bar. “It’s complicated,” he mutters. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Maybe I should just accept this and walk away. After all, if he does get back in touch with his dad—if they repair their relationship—what would that mean formyrelationship with Wes? How would we continue to see each other with Jess back in his life? We wouldn’t be able to, would we?

But I also know how important Jesse is to Weston, despite what he says about not caring anymore, and if I can help them fix things, then I will. I’ll do that for Wes, regardless of what it means for us, because it matters to him.

“I know you want to blame him for what happened with your mom,” I begin tentatively, well aware I’m inserting myself into a delicate family matter, but Wes feels like family to me in a way now, too, and I can’t let this go. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I did too. And when that happens, it’s all too easy to feel anger instead of dealing with it. I felt that way for years.”

Jesse sighs, fiddling with a cardboard coaster on the bar, not meeting my gaze.

“Anger is easy to feel,” I continue gently. “But grief is harder. It’s so much more painful. And I wonder…” I give Jesse’s arm another squeeze. “I wonder if you’ve been trying to avoid feeling that pain, Jess. I don’t blame you, because it’s awful.”

I think of the anger I still feel toward my parents for their heartless response to the death of the Walkers, and how I let that overshadow my grief for months afterward. They were not who I needed them to be and they never have been. They haven’t once reached out to me since I moved to the city, and therein lies the difference between Jess’s situation and mine. He had a loving relationship with his parents before Lydia’s death. I’ve never had that kind of relationship with my own family. I’d give anything to have parents who care as much as Weston cares for Jesse.

“It’s devastating that you lost your mom, Jess, but you don’t have to lose your dad, too.”

---