Page 139 of Ignite

I snuggle the comforter around my neck.

“Have you ever felt like this? About a guy?”

“No,” I answer quickly.

“Not even Ben? Like at the start?”

I blow out a breath.

“I knew very early on I was forcing it. I was just kinda lonely, I think. I’ve had boyfriends in the past who I’ve liked more, but again, I never felt this. Whatever this is. It just feels special.”

“Yeah. You know, my mom always said, when I found the girl, I’d just know, probably when I’m least expecting it.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.”

I know, just by the rawness in his voice, how much he misses her. And I can relate, I feel the same about my dad.

“Do you see your mom? You’ve not mentioned her.”

I sigh and roll onto my side. This isn’t the conversation I really wanted, but I feel safe opening up to him.

“She’s only my mother because she gave birth to me. She’s never been a mom. My dad left her when I was young, and I begged to live with him. She quite happily gave up custody, moved to a new state, and got remarried. Occasionally, I’ll get a birthday text. I don’t care, though. I’m fine without her. She was just someone who shouldn’t have had kids, you know?”

“Oh, Hallie. I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

“I had better. My dad was incredible, Con. I never wanted for anything. I was his shadow.” I stop when the pain starts to return and the lump lodges in my throat.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. It’s just so hard to talk about him without breaking down. I-I don’t know if I ever will be able to. But I feel bad, because he deserves to be remembered and spoken about.”

I hold in the sob that begs to escape.

“You don’t need to feel bad, baby. I promise. I feel the exact same way about my parents. I bury it and try to forget it happened, but then it weighs down on me so bad that I force myself to remember. But it’s hard. You can always talk to me, if you want to? I’ll listen.”

I hiccup, and he brings a smile out on my face.

“Maybe I can try. I’ve gotten better. The first year I actually hid all of the photos, I now have them back up on the walls.”

“It just takes time. Grief sucks. It hurts. And I don’t think it ever goes away, we just hide our pain better every day. Or find new ways to distract ourselves.”

“You can talk about your parents whenever you want too, Con. You know that, right? I want to hear all about your Dad’s whiskey. And your mom. She sounds cute.”

He chuckles.

“She was cute. But she was also a little ball of rage. Don’t tell my brothers, but she used to call me her favorite. I think it was because we were so similar. I got my anger from her. Shit, I used to dread going home when I’d been in trouble at school.”

I giggle.

“I can imagine. I told you before, you’re a softie deep down.”

“No. Hallie. I’m not. Not really. You, however, have a way of making me that way. What can I say? I’m down bad for you, trouble.”

“Ditto, beastie.”

“Are you training tomorrow?” I ask.

The line falls silent, and he clears his throat.

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