Page 22 of The Scars I Bare
“And you think Ocracoke can give her that? A better life?”
I looked over to her, my gracious host with the big heart. I could see in her a kinship, the potential for a friendship I hadn’t had for a great many years.
“I hope so,” I answered honestly. “It’s why I’m here. A brand-new start for both of us.”
“And what about your family? Are they excited about the change? Or do they miss you terribly?”
The mere mention of family had me halting in my tracks.
Share time was over.
“They’re fine with it,” I replied, setting down the glass of wine on the table beside us. “Excuse me. I’m going to check on Lizzie.”
Our eyes met for a brief moment as I fled, and I could see the shock written all over her face. How could it not be? The about-face in my demeanor had been abrupt, even to the most oblivious of persons.
But I couldn’t risk it.
Friendships, growing attached to someone. I needed to protect my family from the truth. The last thing I needed was a misguided friend reaching out to my parents.
It was a good reminder as I walked past the small group of people I’d started to recognize since arriving. The Lovells, Jake and Molly, and most of all, Dean.
The broken and beautiful Dean.
He was more than a friendship. More than another face in the crowd.
He was something different altogether.
I’d felt a connection to him all those years ago, something I’d refused to acknowledge back that. Something beyond what a nurse should feel for a patient. Something even beyond friendship.
I’d walked away then.
I could do so again.
I’d been berating myself on my horrible behavior toward Molly ever since I walked away before dinner. This woman had invited me into her home and been nothing but kind to me and my daughter, and at the first offer of friendship, I’d basically stomped all over it and walked away.
I had actually walked away.
I needed to make it right, but I wasn’t sure how.
A simple apology sure, but how did I explain my behavior?
Sorry, Molly, I’m a bit of a nutter. Turns out, Dean’s little outburst in the kitchen was totally spot-on. I am a walking, talking, heaping truckload of baggage. So much so that I don’t know what I’m doing from one moment to the next. So, please, don’t try to befriend me. I’m too big of a mess for you. For anyone really.
Yeah. That sounded about right.
“You look deep in thought,” a familiar voice said from behind me.
I turned to see Dean, still nursing the same beer I’d seen him with earlier. He’d made decent progress with it, but I could tell he either wasn’t much of a drinker or wasn’t much of a drinkertonight.
“What? This?” I said, pointing to my expression with as much amusement as I could muster. “No, this is just the face they give you when you become a parent.”
He smiled, something I’d grown fond of during our brief time together in the hospital. I’d do just about anything to make it appear on his face.
Even now, the lazy grin gave me a flutter in my belly I hadn’t experienced in years.
“No shit?” He laughed. “Do you get a membership card, too?”
I couldn’t help but join him, chuckling under my breath. “Sadly, no, but there are some pretty harsh initiation rituals. I’m still working on mine.”
