Page 120 of Hang the Moon
It really wasn’t okay. When did she become the type of person to hop on Instagram and jump to wild conclusions?
“I hate this.” She palmed her face and groaned. “This is so humiliating.”
“Remember who you’re talking to,” Darcy reminded her. “Remember my thirteenth birthday when you slept over and you—”
“We pinky-sworeneverto talk about that. It didn’t happen.”
“Point being,” Darcy continued, “you’ve done far more humiliating things.”
“Youreallyknow how to make a girl feel better.”
“Annie.”
She swallowed hard. “I am jealous. And it’s stupid.I’mstupid.”
“Shut up. That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”
Annie laughed. “Your best friend is stupid. Deal with it.”
“My best friend is stupid about my brother. I’ll accept that.”
“Yeah.” Annie nodded even though Darcy couldn’t see her. Her voice dropped to a pathetic whisper. “I really am.”
“He’s been moping, you know? He really misses you.”
Her eyelids burned. “I miss him, too. A lot.”
Alot,a lot.
What was she doing? Sitting here, packing her apartment, torturing herself looking at photos andthinkingabout Brendon when she could have the real thing? She’dhadthe real thing and shewantedthe real thing.
She didn’t want another stamp in her passport. She wanted Brendon.
“Are you ready to come home?” Darcy asked gently, as if afraid of spooking her, like she was some startled horse.
Home.
It was a risk, but wasn’t having everything she wanted worth it when the alternative was never having it at all? Was sitting here, alone, miserable because of her own choices?
Her eyes stung as she made a slow sweep around her room, most of her belongings packed, the rest strewn haphazardly across the carpet awaiting boxes or a suitcase. There were no pictures on the walls. Her bookshelves were empty. In a little over a week, someone else would inhabit this apartment. Hopefully they would do more living here than she had.
She sucked a breath in and listened to the relentless pounding of her heart. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Darcy gave a sharp cry, breathless and shocked. “Thankfuck.”
Annie pressed her trembling fingers to her lips and blubbered out a laugh. “Eloquent.”
“Shut up.” Darcy sniffled. “Are you serious?”
Since when is love supposed to be convenient?
She’d known it all along, but she’d been afraid. Scared shitless. Scared that Brendon would be like everyone else she’d ever dated. But the truth was, he was unlike anyone she’d ever known. And he’d never given her reason to doubt him or his affections. At every turn, he’d shown her he cared. Even now, when he had no reason to believe she’d be back, he’d texted her more frequently than any of her so-called friends here in Philadelphia. She was the one who’d compared him to the people from her past, misjudging him. That was a wrong she wanted—needed—desperately to right.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I am. I’m—” Her ears popped when she slid her jaw forward, trying to fend off another wave of tears. “Am I too late?”
“Too late?” Darcy scoffed loudly into the line. “For Brendon? Are you kidding me? Are we talking about the same person? My brother, who told me when I finally pulled my head out of my ass that it’s never too late if you love someone?ThatBrendon? A walking, talking Hallmark greeting card with red hair and a heart of gold? Six-foot-four—”
“Darcy.”
