“Same. Will you talk to Mac if it doesn’t?”
He slumped lower in the seat. “I don’t know.”
I didn’t push because I couldn’t pretend to understand his inner turmoil. The shit show that had been the friendshipbetween Mac, Arlo, and Michael White was a mystery to us all, but it affected Jace and Daisy most of all, like they were part of some fucked-up generational relationship trauma.
“It’s fucking weird about Daisy’s mom.” I was still processing my mom’s claim that Arlo and Michael had been into Daisy’s mom too.
“Because it’s like us?” Jace asked.
The similarities weren’t lost on me: Eleanor Mercer had been loved — or if not loved, at least desired — by three guys at the same time.
Three best friends.
No wonder Derrick had felt like a third wheel.
“No, not like us,” I said to Jace. “We don’t fight over Daisy.”
Jace scowled. “You think that’s what happened? They fought over her?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “But even if they didn’t, it had to create tension for your dad and Michael White to watch Mac and Nory — Eleanor — together every day.”
That much was easy to guess. The other stuff was speculative. Like did Arlo and Michael commiserate when they were alone at the Blackwell School for Boys about Mac and Eleanor? Did the fact that they’d been put into the foster system make Eleanor’s love for Mac seem like another rejection of them? Another thing they couldn’t have?
I didn’t say these things to Jace. He had enough shit to sift through without help from my imagination.
It was hard though, hard not to imagine it. Hard not to see it. Because in some ways, theyhadbeen like us. It was like stranding in front of a mirror with Otis, Jace, and Daisy and seeing another version of us, of our relationship, a version that ended in tragedy all around, which was the last fucking thing I wanted to think about.
“You ever think maybe she’s not meant to be with us?” Jace asked.
“No,” I said sharply. “And neither should you.”
“I’m just being honest with myself. We’ve got nothing to offer her.”
“Doesn’t seem like she’s looking for anything from us,” I said.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to give her something.”
I merged onto a new highway and spoke without looking at him. “Sounds like the on-ramp to self-sabotage.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “You’ve never thought you were good enough for her. That’s you, not Daisy.”
“Ruth’s not even talking to her because of us,” Jace said. “She’s on the outs with her dad too.”
I wasn’t entirely sure that was all because of us, but he had enough of a point that I didn’t bother arguing. There was no denying that being with us was complicated for Daisy.
Still, it wasn’t our call.
“Ever think maybe she’s tired of everyone else telling her what’s best for her?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just sank lower in the seat, his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses.
I looked at the GPS for an ETA to Boston: one hour, ten minutes.
Chapter 56
Daisy