Page 79 of Never Kiss Your Neighbors

Though they don’t talk to me, Cam and Wyatt chat with Jessie for most of the ride, and it’s clear they’re trying to distract her from her pain and keep her entertained. They even sing silly songs, reprising the funny voices they used when we played Clue.

I’m grateful to them for keeping my daughter in good spirits, but I also wish they weren’t so damn charming and likeable.

At the urgent care center, they wait in the lobby while Jessie and I go into the exam room. After x-rays and various other tests, including checking for a head injury, which is my biggest worry even though I haven’t seen any signs that concern me, the physician determines that her wrist is sprained. It’s the best outcome, though the injury will require some care, including ice and a brace.

I make the mistake of looking at the men’s faces when we return to the lobby. Their eyes are filled with genuine concern, and something twists in the center of my chest.

How can they be so nice and caring toward my daughter, while also being so deceitful and careless with my feelings?

When Jessie skips over to them and shows them her new brace, their smiles are full of relief, and now that I’m not consumed by worry, my heart is raw again, burning like the scrape on Jessie’s arm.

The ride home is torture, and I’m filled with emotions that don’t fit together, like anger, regret, and longing. Part of me wants to curse at them, part of me aches to touch them—and for them to touch me.

I tell myself I’ll only have to see them for a few more minutes, because we’ll soon be home, but then Cam asks, “Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, and I’m starving!” Jessie cries.

“We could stop at the chicken place you like,” Cam suggests, and how can I possibly deny my starving daughter, even when it means spending more time with these men?

With a sigh, I agree, and the next thing I know, the four of us are seated around a table, sharing food.

Can I somehow go back to a time when these men were simply our neighbors? Can I pretend or maybe forget that anything else happened between us? For now, the answer is no.

Despite not having eaten for hours, I don’t have an appetite, but I force myself to eat a little. Face to face, it’s nearly impossible to avoid eye contact with Cam and Wyatt, especially when they both seem intent on capturing my attention, their gazes lingering on me much longer than they should.

I can’t help but remember all of the other meals we’ve shared together, and all of the new experiences they introduced me to, and I want to cry with anger and frustration.

I turn my full focus to Jessie and somehow get through the meal, and finally, what seems like years later, we arrive home.

I thank the men at the car, hoping they’ll drive off, but they walk us up to the front door. I try to say goodbye there, but Wyatt touches my arm. “Can we please talk?”

His eyes are pleading, and I can’t say no, especially after the way they helped me this evening.

“Please,” Cam adds.

“I need to get Jessie to bed. Storytime, and all that.”

“We’ll wait.”

I shrug a shoulder, like it means nothing to me. “If you want.”

I give Marissa a sheepish look as the men follow me in, then update her on Jessie’s diagnosis. When I go off with Jessie to get her ready for bed, I leave the men with Marissa, half hoping she’ll give them an earful, but that’s not her style.

I take care of Jessie’s wrist according to the doctor’s instructions, then tuck her in and read her favorite book, one I could probably recite in my sleep. In the back of my mind, I try to anticipate what the men will say and how I’ll respond. I warn my heart not to get involved, and tell my head to remain in firm control.

After my sweet daughter has been asleep for several minutes, I tiptoe out, whispering, “I love you” to the dark room, and sending up a prayer of gratitude that she wasn’t hurt worse today.

Marissa’s in the living room watching TV, but she’s alone, and I’d be lying if I said a small wave of disappointment didn’t run through me.

“Did they leave?”

She looks toward the back door. “They’re out back. I think it was a bit frosty in here for them.” She arches an eyebrow, looking devious, and I laugh, even as my stomach is doing all sorts of fluttery things.

Outside, our traitorous little Goldfish is lying next to Cam, who’s sitting on the concrete. Wyatt’s in a chair; they’ve left the loveseat for me.

I sit down, my body stiff. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to us,” Wyatt says. “We just want to explain and apologize about the video.”

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