Page 33 of Never Have I Ever

“It’s enough.”

Her gaze darts to mine. “What is?”

“You. You’re enough.”

This time, a smile appears from somewhere deep inside her, showy and wide as if to announce its arrival. “That’s a very nice thing to say.” Her eyes stay on mine this time when she adds, “I’m sure some ex-boyfriends would argue otherwise.”

“They can fuck right off.”

Raising her finger, she laughs again. “I told them the same.”

“You should. You deserve . . .” I suddenly realize that it’s not my place, a stranger to her in all ways, other than employer, to give her advice.

Seemingly enchanted for the answer, she waits for me to finish. I can’t, not before knowing if she did it on purpose.

My walls start to rise, ready to ask the question I really want an answer to. “When? When was the accident?”

“Oh, um . . .” Her discomfort kicks in, and she tucks her legs under her and snuggles with the blanket. Pain takes a toll, sadness infiltrating her pupils, but she tries to smile, fighting against the emotions restricting her expression. “It was years ago.”

“I know—”

“Why do you say it like that?” Annoyance colors her cheeks, deepening the pink. “You don’t know. You don’t know me. You don’t know my story.”

“I thought I did, but everything’s changed. That’s why I’m curious.”

A battle begins, the stubborn side I’ve witnessed since she came back into my life winning. “Why does it matter to you?”

It’s all so delicate with her. “I want to know you.”

Her feet hit the floor, but she doesn’t get up. “You had no interest in doing so before?”

“If you only knew the truth—”

“That would be a great start.”

I appreciate the fire returning to her eyes. It renews hope. Hope in what? I’m stepping in emotionally damaging territory, but I still can’t stop myself from trying to connect the pieces.

The hat.

The knives.

Staying in the other cabin.

The comments I thought were random nonsense.

The puzzle is suddenly clearer in my head.

Poppy’s not here to stalk me. She’s here because Nikki sent her. Not because of who she is or to torture me into facing my past. Oh shit.

She’s here to work. I run my hand through my hair, knowing I read this situation all wrong. Worst of all, I’ve been horrible and bitter until this moment. I drop my head, knowing I’ve fucked up.

I set my mug on the table and scrub my hands over my face, hoping there’s a way to redeem myself. I already know what she’s going to say before she says it.

“Two and a half years ago,” she whispers. “October. I remember that much.”

The knot in my chest tosses a lump in my throat. Now, I’m at a loss for words, failing to give her the comfort she deserves. The truth is out there. The lies I believed have been exposed as falsehoods my mind made up to protect me.

Treating me like a stranger.

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