Page 48 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

My dad laughing at SpongeBob with me. His homemade pasta and meatballs in simmering red sauce. His reading on the weekends, always outside on the Adirondack chair. His coaxing me to try new vegetables. Our pink lemonade when we made a stand and successfully sold cups on our block. Pillow forts that were less successful as one side always fell. The time we went clamming in Cape Cod. His love of gardening. His hatred of driving in traffic. His tossing me up in his arms, swinging me around until I was dizzy with laughter. The soft way he’d say good night, no matter how his day had gone. I’d pushed them all away, too afraid of the pain they’d bring me.

But it was the opposite. The memories surrounded me, and I would do anything,anything, to keep them close. Dad close.

“Guess it was good of Mom to give me this picture,” I said. “And come out of the house.”

“She should have done that long ago. Stopped blaming you for her failures or when you acted out in pain. Given you this picture when you were a grieving kid and done so much more.” James’ eyes sparked with feeling and, to my surprise, tears.

I smiled and reached out to wipe a fallen tear. “You know what, James? You’re a badass when you want to be. I told you that once before. But it’s fucking true.”

He stared at me for a moment, swallowing, his throat working. “I know the perfect spot for the picture. Where you can see it each time you walk in the door.”

“Sounds good.”

“And after we hang the picture, I’ll show you how badass I can be.”

His words rushed through me, fire replacing the ice.

“James, what’s happened to you? First, a total badass. Now flirting?”

He eyed me. “You happened, Phin. Now, let’s get the hell outta here.”

Hand in hand, we went to the car. Once we were inside, I looked at my mom’s house, and flashes of moments from our visit blended in with memories of the worst moments from years past. My heart ached as I looked at James. If things ever ended between us, I knew the heartbreak would be brutal. I never wanted to endure that.

He laid his hand on mine. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just…” I sighed. “Look, I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know. Me neither.”

Though I knew James wasn’t capable of deliberately hurting anyone, hearing him say that he’d never set out to hurt me soothed me. I turned over my hand so we touched palm to palm. “And if I ever do hurt you, I’d look you in the eye and apologize.”

“Same here.” His smile was soft.

“But if we ever… If this doesn’t…” My voice cracked.

“Hey. Stop right there.” James brought his other hand up to frame my face. “I’m not moving away when things get tough. I’m not going anywhere.”

The threat of tears burned the backs of my eyes. James’ expression, both tender and fierce, made my chest ache, and the urge to be held by him engulfed me. I let James embrace me, leaning into him, my eyes shut, pressing our foreheads together. We stayed like that for a moment, with me resting on him, breathing slowly in and out.

I’d given my mom too much power over me in my life. Who I was, how I saw myself. I let her convince me of how my father saw me. No more. Maybe I hadn’t gotten an apology from Mom, but I could forgive her for her actions anyway so the wound could heal and no longer gnaw on my soul. Forgiveness to give myself peace. I had that now. And I had James, too.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

I told James more stories about my dad as we drove to my place. How much he’d loved me. How scared I was when he was suddenly gone. Dad’s faith in me, his food, his corny jokes. And when I spoke of him that whole ride home, the smile never left my face. James listened quietly, asking some questions but mostly letting me talk. With each mile we drove away, past scrub brush and shopping malls, I welcomed the open road, the soft blue sky, the way home.

Once we arrived, we parked in front of my building. I carried the brown bag with Dad’s photo inside and gently set it down. Then, I turned my focus on James. Somewhere, I’d closed off to life without fully realizing it, not wanting to chance the fallout. James made me want to risk it instead of avoiding the hurt. He’d used a crowbar on my rusty heart and pried it free.

“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Are you tired? I’d get it if you were exhausted or whatever. I could leave you if you need some downtime.” He chewed his lip, and I could see that he didn’t want to leave in his sweet eyes.

“Don’t go. I want you here with me,” I said. “Stay.”

James drew a quick breath. Maybe he saw it in my eyes? That he was the one gripping my heart. How badly I wanted to touch him, kiss him.

“I’ll stay as long as you ask me to.”

I nodded, my heart in my throat. I was so thankful he was with me today. Still with me.

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