Page 79 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“I’m notthatmuch older than you, Dory.”

“No, you’re not. But you feel years away.”

“Why?”

She stabs a fry into the cheese. “Because you’re so…sophisticated. You have your life together.”

“If you only knew.” I shake my head, cramming more carbs into my mouth.

She frowns. “Then tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because I like knowing you.”

I like knowing you too.

I chase the large bite with another pull off my melting milkshake, then wipe my mouth and sit back.

I sigh. “I struggle, Dory. A lot. Every single day. I have a lot of anger inside me because everyone leaves me and it’s hard to cope with, but I do it for my daughter. I push through and get the job done and provide for her like no one has ever provided for me before. But it’s not easy. I might seem carefree sometimes, but I’m not. You never know when the rug can get pulled out from under you, and I never take any of this for granted.”

She stares at me, eyes full of…something.

I don’t know what, but I like it when she looks at me like this.

Like I’m important to her.

“You were right,” she says suddenly. “I was going to just sit here and read. I like to come here, not just for the cheapness of it, but also because I like listening. There’s always such an interesting crowd here, so I eavesdrop. It makes me feel like my life is interesting.”

I don’t know whether to smile or frown. “That’s sad, but also sweet.”

She shrugs. “Just being honest. Besides, I’m kind of invested in a certain couple who frequents the place. They’re older and the woman is always coloring her hair the craziest of shades. Her husband wears a bunch of band tees and we always end up talking music. They’re so fun and vibrant. I get a little jealous of them sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re free. They’re living, not just coasting.”

I don’t have to ask to know she’s talking about herself.

“The Outsidersis my favorite too,” she says quietly.

I’m not surprised by this at all. Just like me, she can relate to the characters and their struggles. It’s what drew me to the book as a kid and what kept me coming back.

Only I think Dory might connect with it a little more than me. Given her mom’s history and the ever-revolving door of stepdads, I’d guess she sank herself into the Frost poem and believes nothing good can last forever.

Maybe I can help prove that wrong.

Tossing my napkin down onto my plate, I push it away. “I’m stuffed.”

“Me too.”

I watch her lean back in the booth, patting her flat stomach. “I don’t remember the last time I ate that much.”

“I do. It was Wednesday when you finished offmypancakes when I wouldn’t eat any more.”

Her cheeks redden. “You can’t waste something that good, Porter. It’s a sin. Or should I say, atransgression.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring her jab. “So, Dory, what do you want to do for your birthday? Twenty-one, right?”

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