Page 908 of One More Kiss

“Damaged?” I finished his sentence with the word he didn’t want to say.

“Exactly. I’ve had issues with depression my entire life, and it’s stupid because I have never been in want of anything. My dad was a computer programmer for a major IT company out of San Francisco. He worked remotely so we could stay here in Oregon. My mom loved it here. She’s the head nurse in the NICU at the hospital. So yeah, money has never been a problem.”

I turned to face him. “How was their marriage?

A soft smile graced his face and then faded. “Perfect. Before…of course.”

“That sounds nice.” I sighed but instantly regretted my words. “Sorry, that was—”

“No, you’re right, it was nice, but that’s just proof that depression has nothing to do with circumstances and everything to do with something in here.” He tapped on his chest where his heart was.

Exactly.

I was quiet for a moment, and he turned his body toward mine.

“Am I scaring you away as I dump all my problems on you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m just surprised. You seem like…someone who has it all together. Rich. Popular.” Hot as fuck. “I just assumed someone like you didn’t deal with things like this. I guess I shouldn’t assume. You truly never know what others are going through.”

“It’s true.” A soft smile spread across his lips, and his eyes trailed to my mouth momentarily before he turned away, staring at the sky again.

“My dad was a baseball player, too,” he went on, “a pitcher. He was really good. He got me into baseball. I almost quit after he died, but I feel like it’s almost like a connection to him. I thought he was the coolest. I wanted to be just like him. He was good-looking and funny and just a nice guy.”

I couldn’t help but think that he was just like his dad from the description he gave.

“He had this amazing laugh. It was infectious. Everyone loved him.” Daniel swallowed hard. “But he had battled depression. He was bipolar. And one day.” He paused. “He just…”

“I’m sorry.” A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. I was grieving, yes, but his story broke my heart.

He sat up and tugged some blades of grass from the ground, tearing them in half before tossing them to the side. Then he looked back at me. “You know…no one in my life—not my family, not my friends—knows I am going to therapy.”

“You don’t feel like you can tell them?”

He shook his head. “They’d want to know why. And if they knew I spend half my time feeling like a basket case, they’d worry I’m just like him. The bad side. The sick side.”

I sat up and grabbed my phone.

He looked down at my phone. “What are you doing?”

“Adding a song to our playlist.”

He leaned forward, trying to see what I was doing. “What is it?”

“You can’t make fun of me.” I didn’t think he would, though, after he just shared so much with me.

He listened for a moment, his head down. It was a lot. But it was real.

“You hate it. Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t. Who is it?”

“Avril Lavigne. It’s called ‘Anything But Ordinary.’”

Then he smiled at me. “Well, that’s for sure….”

My face flushed.

“I loved spending time with you today, but we probably shouldn’t play hooky every time. It took a lot for me to walk through those doors, and I shouldn’t just give up on that, I don’t think.”

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