Page 15 of Lose You to Find Me

Her palm lifts, facing me as a sad smile takes over her trembling lips. “Please don’t. I’ve heard it before. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ angle. Guys always feel the need to tell me I’m an amazing person or that I’m pretty or funny to soften the blow for when they tell me they can’t give me the long term even before I’ve asked for it. I don’t need to be complimented. Look, I think you need to figure some things out. Prioritize your family and yourself. That’s what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”

Her tone is delicate, and I know she means every word she says. I’ve always appreciated how blunt she is when it comes to what she wants. Which makes me feel like a bigger jackass for not figuring out what it is I can bring to the table. “When guys say those things to women, they’re not just feeding you lines. They just know you’re too good for what they can offer.”

Scraping my hand through my hair, I shake my head when she stares down at her food. I had Mom chop off the long strands last month before the August heat got to be too much. When Dad’s hair slowly started growing back, we went back to looking a lot alike.

Except Dad’s face is different than it used to be. Long gone is the square jaw that I got from him, and in its place is a narrow, sickly bone structure that shows how unwell he really is. His cheeks and eyes are all sunken in; his collarbones and ribs show. He’s always been lean, like me, but never like this.

Dropping my hand onto my lap, I debate what I can say or do.

“Can we just…spend time together? Go to dinners, a movie, maybe Putt-Putt again. Do things that are mindless fun. We can call it whatever we want. It doesn’t have to be anything more than friendship, although I’d like it to be if we’re being honest.”

Her tongue dips out and wets her bottom lip as contemplation masks her face. “You make it really hard to say no. It isn’t that I don’t like you or want to try this. It’s that I’m worried I’ll get attached if we continue when you can’t truly meet me halfway.”

Who says I can’t? “Like you said, I need time. Once I figure out how to compartmentalize some things, it’ll be easier for me. For us.”

Her eyes stay on her food. “Maybe.”

Does that mean she’s going to give this a shot? I wouldn’t blame her if she says no, but my gut tightens at the thought of her rejecting me.

“I know it’s not a lot, but I’m willing to try,” I say quietly.

She peeks up at me, bottom lip in her mouth with a contemplative expression on her face. Eventually, she nods. “Okay.”

Okay.We fall to silence for a moment or two before I finally break it. “Are we okay then?”

I’ve never liked hurting anybody’s feelings, and despite us not knowing each other well enough, I like Emma. The last thing I want is hard feelings between us if this doesn’t work out in our favor, especially since we’ll be seeing each other quite a bit at the hospital.

Hopefully.

That sour feeling is back.

Reality.

It’s heavy, holding me down.

Emma picks up another fry and puts on a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes like it does when she jokes with her coworkers or talks with her patients or tells me about something she learned over the course of her shift.

Do I do that to women?

Maybe I should let her walk away.

Because if we give each other another chance, I could taint her—compare her to the girl who walked away.

I don’t want Emma to leave.

But do I really want her to stay?

Chapter Six

RAINE

One thing thatfour years of psychology classes have taught me is how to be logical, but another helpful lesson I got from all those stressful courses is that logic doesn’t get you very far when it comes to personal matters.

I read somewhere that the heart has reasons for the choices we make that not even rationality can understand.

No amount of college classes can make sense of why we do what we do. That doesn’t stop us from trying to make an excuse to justify our decisions.

Which is why I’m staring at the house that started it all, wondering why I thought coming to Radcliff would help me process anything. It suffocates me to be surrounded by all the things the younger, dumber version of me did here.

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