Page 33 of Wrong Idea

“Stan—“

“I see a girl who is the closest thing I have to a child of my own. Any motherfucker would be lucky to end up with you. To have the fucking privilege to love and protect you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” I sniffed. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, I know that there is no doubt in my mind you can take care of yourself. Hell, girl, the way you sent him on his way when you found out who he was, fucking brilliant. I couldn’t have been prouder if you were my own kid.”

“Stan—“ My lips wobbled again. I knew he saw me that way, but it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

“But what you’re saying, those are all things a man does when he’s in love with a woman. Think about the time you spent together and then how he had to probably rush off back to his office and catch up on shit he should have been taking care of when he was with you. Or the lack of sleep that man was running on to be up at all those ungodly hours you like to work,” Stan pointed out, and I had to chew on the inside of my cheek.

Has Carver been doing all that?

Could it be possible that he is actually in love with me?

Could this whole thing be a mix-up where I had the wrong idea of who he was and somehow, he didn’t know how to make it right?

“Just…” he started to say but stopped. “I get it if you don’t want to see the shithead again. I won’t, either. I’ll quit with you.”

“Stan—“

“But if he tries to explain and he does love you, which I think he does, honey, that man looked like he had been stabbed in the heart when his brother let the cat out of the bag.”

“Imagine how I felt,” I muttered childishly. Stan covered my hand with his.

“I get it. He hurt you, and sometimes, well, shit, a lot of the time,” Stan said, “as men, we screw crap up. Right and left. Sometimes we can’t help it. If you think you can believe in him, if you can try and trust him again or at the very least think you can try and have him work at earning that trust and love back, I think you should give him a chance, Max.”

“I never said I didn’t love him still. I do. Feelings like these…” I rubbed the spot above my heart. “They don’t just disappear into thin air.” I swallowed, hating myself for it but not at the same time.

“I love him, Stan.”

“I know child, I know. Love is a tricky thing… especially for people like us.”

“Like us?” I repeated, and he nodded.

“You and me kid. I might not be your blood, but we’re a lot alike. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re like the kid I never had. People like us don’t let people in easily, and when we do… shit, it’s almost impossible to get them out of there. Our hearts hold on and don’t want to let go. We’re stubborn as hell.”

“Stan—“

“The question is, will you give him another chance, or will you live with what could have been, wondering about him whenyou’re old and gray like me, driving yourself crazy with what might have happened if you got out of your own way and took a chance? A real one.”

“Was there someone you cared about like that?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kid. But that’s a story for another day.” He stood, and I followed him to the door. “You going to be okay?”

“I will be.” I nodded, knowing as crappy as the situation was, there was no other choice. I’d get through this with or without him. Could I forgive Carver?

“I’ll quit if you do,” he stated.

“Stan,” I groaned.

“You’re my family, whether you like it or not.” My lips wobbled, and he frowned. “None of that! You know old Stan doesn’t do well with tears,” he gruffed, pulling me in for a tight hug. One that lasted longer than I knew he was comfortable with but somehow sensed was what I needed.

“It’s all going to be okay, kiddo. Just watch and see. Just make sure to make him grovel,” he muttered against the top of my head before he squeezed one more time and left.

I watched until he disappeared down the hall before I shut the door.

Everywhere I looked, he was there. Carver felt like he had left his presence littered all over. Like stardust.

---