Page 51 of Forget About Me

“What?” My heart splinters. “Lucy, it wasn’t your fault. If anything, it?—?”

She drops her face onto her palms again, and her fingers dig into the curls framing her forehead. “I know, everybody says that,” she growls. “Tonyofferedto drive out to pick me up in Amherst.” The self-loathing in her voice is killing me. “Not that he had much of a choice after I moaned and whined about having to take the smelly bus.”

When her eyes meet mine, all I want is to take that pain away. “Lucy, I was there, and Tony did want?—?”

“Wait.” She puts the glass back down so quickly that it sloshes over. “I have been wondering this for years. Why were you in the car, anyway?”

My heart races. I pull off some toilet paper to wipe up the spill. “I…” I have to force the words past strangled vocal cords. “I wanted to see you.”

Her eyebrows come together in a frown. “But we’d broken up.”

I nod. “We had.”

“I wrote you, and you never wrote back.”

My head’s heavier than a bowling ball, but I hold it up anyway and force myself to look her in the eye. “I did answer.” Before she can protest, I add, “I never sent it. Them.”

I grab her hand, thankful that she doesn’t jerk it away. “I was an idiot, but the truth is that by Thanksgiving, I couldn’t wait to see you again. So when Tony came by the house to say hello and then asked if I wanted to ride with him, I said hell yeah.”

The spark in her eye gives me the courage to tell her the rest. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry because?—?”

“Ben, it’s okay. You were in the hospital.” She squeezes my hand, then lets go to get up and pace. “I’m sure the day was scary for Sal and Vinnie. The police came to get my parents, and the boys ended up with neighbors, not knowing what was going on. The holiday turned into a funeral and a wake. Every year since, we’ve all just tiptoed around each other, pretending that Thanksgiving doesn’t exist, pretending it’s just any other day so we don’t have to be reminded.”

I haven’t told her everything, but this isn’t the right time. This needs to be about her, about helping her deal with this Thanksgiving. Me relieving myself of my own guilt is not going to help her with that.

She’s staring out the window, where drops of rain run down the pane. At least tears aren’t still running down her face. The hiss of the heater is the only sound in the room until Puck hops up onto the couch with a doggy grunt.

I pull him onto my lap, needing to hold onto someone. “You know, my house growing up was a little like that. My grandma was good to me, but she and my dad never ever talked about my mom. I guess they were trying to spare me pain. But it was like there was this gaping hole in the house that we pretended wasn’t there but had to step around. Like if we fell in, we’d never make it out again.”

Out the rain-smeared window, light shines through the curtains on the second floor of my dad’s house. “When Grandma died and me and my dad moved here, it was even worse. It’s why I spent so much time at your place. Without you guys, I might’ve never known what a happy family was like.”

She looks back at me. “I’m sorry, Ben. I guess I always thought?—?”

I put a hand up. “All I’m saying is that it could be a good thing for Sal and Vinnie to seek that out, even if they have to go elsewhere. To heal. It’s healthy to leave home, Lucy.”

She leans back against the window, eyes on the ceiling. “So what does that mean for you and me?”

My heart goes into overdrive, but my brain stalls.You and me?Is she talking about us as a couple? “Me and you…?”

She shoves off the wall to pace again, but with less energy than before. “Well, we haven’t left home.” She gestures around the apartment. “Though I guess you did. You’re just back.” She makes an odd sound. “Temporarily.”

Watching her hands flap at her sides, I say, “I have no idea what I’m doing, so maybe I’m not the best source of advice.” Forcing my hands to stay clasped together on my lap, I continue. “But I do know that papering over the problem doesn’t solve it. At least it didn’t for me. Maybe Sal and Vinnie changing things up will help all of you move through the pain.”

She blows out a breath and looks out the window again. “Maybe.”

With that exhale, she releases a bit of pain. Her heart needs to heal. That’s what’s important, not my need to expunge my guilt. Not my need to strip her naked and make her moan with pleasure. “And what about you? That’s what you can do something about. What are you ready for?”

She meets my gaze with a shaky smile. “I guess that’s what I have to figure out.”

Before I can get up to give her the hug I need as much as I think she does, Puck jumps off the couch and sits at her feet. She squats to give him a thorough head rub and he rewards her with kisses.

The rat bastard.

Then she straightens, and her face is a bit more relaxed. “Thank you.” She nods slowly. “Thank you for being my friend.”

I missed my chance, but I nod anyway, accepting the role in which she’s cast me.

“Always, Lucy. Always.”

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