Page 158 of The Moment We Know

Her eyebrows drew together. “You’ve been with Dolly?”

“Yes. I was hanging out with her while waiting for you.”

“You were hanging out with Dolly?”

“Yes. We watched part of a Rangers game.”

“You and Dolly watched … hockey?”

“Yes. And had a drink.”

“You and Dolly were … drinking?”

He nodded, feeling slightly light-headed as his endorphins dropped and the pain in his hand became even worse. “She has a really good selection of booze. Did you know that?”

“No, I … didn’t know that.” Paige cleared her throat, then murmured, “I’m having a hard time picturing the two of you as drinking buddies.”

“‘Buddies’ is a bit of a stretch, but we had a pretty good time. Well, up until the Rangers lost and cost her a hundred dollars.”

“What?”

“She lost a bet with someone.”

“Hmm. Okay,” she said, rubbing at her forehead.

David could see she was tired, and knew any chance of them having a decent conversation had been a pipe dream on his part. He also knew he’d made a mistake coming here, and was now sort of stuck. “Look, I know you’re not happy with me right now, and we’re obviously not going to talk like I’d hoped, but I had a good amount of bourbon not too long ago, and …” he trailed off for a moment. “I’d rather not drive home. Can I please crash here tonight?”

She seemed to be trying to figure out if he had some ulterior motive, but with a sigh (and another glance at his hand), she finally nodded. “I may want to kill you right now, but I don’t necessarily want you dead, so … you can sleep in the guest room.”

“Thank you.”

Paige turned off the lights, then headed down the hall, with David following, his eyes drinking in the sway of her hips, so when she stopped and abruptly turned around, he had to jerk his gaze up.

“If you hadn’t had that talk with your mom, how long would you have kept … pretending?” she asked.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to do it for much longer, because it was killing me. Keeping my distance from you was awful, and felt so wrong … because it was wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I know I fucked up and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I wish I’d done things much differently, but I didn’t, and because I was stupid, we’ve lost some ground. But, in my defense, my stupidity stemmed from my fear of failing as a parent, and the possibility of that was killing me, too.”

He was playing the concerned parent card, and … it was kind of working.

“But it’s ground we’ll make up. That I’ll make up,” he quickly amended. “Because you obviously have nothing to make up.”

They stared at one another, the five feet separating them feeling like a hundred.

“I’m sorry about your hand,” she finally said.

“It’s okay,” David told her, making sure the ice pack blocked most of her view, not wanting her to see the state his hand was currently in, because she would likely freak out and feel even worse, which he didn’t want. “Anyway, it was my fault. I should’ve stuck my foot in the door, instead.”

She shook her head at his attempt at a joke. “Continue to ice it for a while, and keep it elevated,” she told him. “That should help with the swelling.”

“I will.” He opened the guest bedroom door, then said over his shoulder, “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Once inside the guest room, he got ready for bed, which consisted of only kicking his shoes off—there was no way in hell he was going to struggle to get undressed with one working hand. Once under the covers, he elevated his injured limb and laid the ice pack on it.

Then he got his phone and texted Evan again. It was slow going, typing with one thumb.

DAVID: I know you’re busy, but can I ask you something?

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