Page 96 of Our Long Days
I look at Jo. “He doesn’t know, right?”
“He’s had suspicions Dex is seeing someone. The who remains a mystery.” She grimaces.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?”
She sighs. “Pat confronted him about it at the bachelor party. He denied seeing anyone.”
The perfect opportunity to tell my brother, and he let it pass him by. A fresh round of tears pools in my eyes. He doesn’t want me, not in the way I want him.
“I also suspected something a few months ago,” Jo continues. “He said something happened, but that it was one time, so I dropped it. You’re actually a lot better at hiding your feelings than you think. It was only the other day my suspicions were confirmed.”
I stare at her, confused. “The other day?”
“My wedding shower…”
Ah. “Tequila isn’t my friend. What did I say?”
Harriet clears her throat. “Flo, you might’ve been drunk as a skunk, but it was Dex who gave it away. The man was absolutely smitten. It was nauseating.”
“Then why is he pushing me away?” I blubber.
“Oh, sweetie.” Quinn tugs me into a hug.
“We’re not here to excuse his behavior,” Jo starts. “It was a shit move. You’ve been patient and honored his wishes. That’s not what he needs.”
Snatching up a cookie, I take a bite, mumbling my response. “Yeah, and what does he need?”
“Tough love,” Aly adds right as Quinn says, “Someone to not give up on him.”
Jo reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Dex is like a brother to me. I’ve known him for as long as Pat. He’s always seemed happy being alone, and as we got older, I never questioned it. Deep down, I think he wants those things, and for atime in his life, he’s allowed himself to be happy. Truly happy. To see a future.”
I frown. “How can you tell?”
“He let you in.”
My confusion increases. “I’m certainthisis the opposite of letting me in.”
“It’s not my place, but I’ll say one thing.” She smiles at me sadly. “I don’t think he’s pushing you away because he doesn’t want you; he’s pushing you away to protect you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
dexter
I’m hollowed by guilt.
After disappearing from the medical center, I sat in my truck, rotting in shame. Forty-three minutes later, Florence and her mom emerged. Florence’s dejected expression sliced me down the middle. I watched them drive away, desperate to follow. Anywhere but with me is the safest option.
Megan drove my truck here and got Nico to pick her up. Though the ringing in my ears had subsided, I didn’t have the energy to turn the key in the ignition, let alone make the twenty-minute drive back to town.
But I had to. This was the bed I’d made for myself, and once back at the cabin, I laid in it, alone and as far away from her side as possible.
Sleep doesn’t come, and hours later, I stare at her pillow with a cavern in my chest.
In my thirty-five years on this Earth, my emotions have never been so out of control. My mind goes in circles, spiraling deeper the longer I lay here.
The number one question: what’s best for Florence?
Texting her is the last thing I should do, but as usual, my judgment is skewed when it comes to her.
