Page 30 of Unless It's You
My mouth is dry. I should start talking. Or should I turn and leave? I pull on my beard, then shove my hands in my pockets and lock eyes with her.
“Three months ago, my mum died.” My fucking voice cracks. I’m being so dramatic, but I suppose if there’s anything it’s okay to be dramatic about, it’s losing someone you love. “We weren’t close, but I wanted to be. My childhood was... not good. And she was troubled. She’s always been.”
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” Stella steps forward and touches myforearms, which are stiff and anchored to my sides, my hands tucked securely in my jeans. She frowns, her forehead crinkling with sympathy. “And here I am, being such an ass about my great-aunt’s bucket list.” Her hands remain on my arms, warm and comforting.
“I would’ve done anything for Mum to have written me some kind of bucket list. Hell, a birthday card once in a while would have been enough, or a call, or returning my texts... or even letting me into her fucking flat, which I was paying for.” I swallow, hard. “But she didn’t do any of that. A bucket list? Never.”
Stella tugs my hands out of my pockets and entwines her fingers with mine. The busy street around us has fallen away, and it’s just me and her.
“My mum never gave me much thought at all. She never put me first. She never did things for me. I was always an inconvenience, someone she ignored completely most of the time. At her best, I was second choice. At her worst, I didn’t even exist.”
Stella makes a sweet squeak.
“Ethan. That’s awful.”
I shake my head. “Don’t feel bad for me. I’m only telling you this so you understand. My arsehole behavior yesterday was not about you at all, but about all the baggage I carry from my mum.”
Stella pauses for a beat before throwing her arms around my waist and pressing her body against mine. I’m shocked at the contact, frozen at the way she feels against me with this kind, intimate gesture.
“I’m sorry for what you went through,” she murmurs. Her voice is muffled by my shirt, but I can feel the vibration of her against my chest. Her head fits perfectly beneath my chin, and I lean into the touch.
With horror, I realize my eyes are filling with water. Tears? Fuck, no. I blink a bunch of times to make them go away. I focus on an old bloke filing off a bus, behind an old lady who turns to grab his hand... oh, fuck.
“I like you, Hart.” The words come out involuntarily. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. But hearing them? It feels right.
She leans back and lets a smile settle on her lips. Something stirs in me. Something that’s much more than like.
Isthispulling it together?
“You like me?” Her gaze flits briefly from my eyes down to my mouth and back up.
Fuck me.I nod.
“Okay. Let’s start over from there. Forget the past. Forget the truce. You like me. And... I guess I like you.”
Her words set off a flurry of emotion inside me. Forget the past? Unlikely. But I’ll go along with Stella, as long as she keeps looking at me like this.
“Glad that’s settled.”
She steps back and I immediately mourn our lack of contact. “Everyone should feel like their mother chooses them first. Always. It’s... what moms do.”
“Not my mum.” My voice is raspy. “And now I have to deal with—” I stop speaking. No. I don’t need to tell Stella about any of the flat nonsense.
“Deal with what?”
I shake my head, regretting starting that sentence. “Nothing.”
“Nope, sorry, that’s not going to work for me. You’ve seen way more of my personal drama than I’ve seen of yours. Spill.” She crosses her arms and taps a foot on the concrete.
“Fine. I have to clean out my mum’s flat.” I grab my beard and twist, pulling till it stings.
“It’s been three months. You haven’t done that?” She cocks her head to the side.
“No.”
Stella stares at me. “Why not?”
“I just can’t. It’s too hard.”
