Page 112 of A Very Merry Mistake

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. He pretty much told me to go fuck myself and refused to play. It was something we’d started as teenagers, and he’d bet his motorcycle that he could make any woman fall in love with him. Long story short, I was convinced you’d never go for a nice guy like him. Low-hanging fruit, ya know.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you looked like a snob. Women like you typically go for the bad boys. I was also convinced that bike would be mine.”

“Pardon my French, but you’re an asshole.”

He chuckles. “I know. Jake was going to give me his Harley, too. You know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because his word is his life,” he says. “The man has integrity and loves hard, and he doesn’t take advantage of people—or women.” Hank doesn’t realize his words are like a dagger to the heart.

He continues. “Jake’s a good guy, Claire. He deserves to be happy and have someone reciprocate all the love he has to give. I don’t like to see my best friend hurt. But there’s no doubt he’s not been the same since you left.”

“I know. It’s why I flew here to apologize and tell him the truth.”

“Okay,” Hank says, taking a sip of his beer. “I can respect that.”

Laughter and music drift through the breeze, and I keep Hank’s pace as we walk to the bonfire. It’s stacked high, and when we enter the area, I’m handed a sheet of paper.

“You’re supposed to scribble down what you’d like to leave behind and start the solstice without the dead weight. It’s tradition,” Hank tells me. I look at it, wondering what I’ll put. “But this is where I leave you. If you keep walking straight, you’ll find him at the front and to the left. You won’t be able to miss him.”

“Thank you,” I say as he holds up his plastic cup and leaves.

From where I’m standing, I can hear the crackling of the wood as embers glitter above. I think about what I’d love to leave behind. The past. That’s it. If I could bury it, I would. I’m sure my father would, too.

I write my word on the paper and fold it in half as I walk behind all the logs. A few people are making out, and a couple snuggles in a blanket two feet away. I understand why Jake is here, for the solitude.

As I carefully walk behind everyone, I spot Jake, and I see Lacy sitting next to him. My cheeks burn as she touches him and kisses him. At first, I’m devastated until he stands, creating space between them. I’m too far away to hear what he’s saying, but based on his body language, he’s not pleased.

Moments later, she says something else and then runs away, covering her face as she fake cries. When her back is to him, she drops her hands, and she’s expressionless, as if she’s realized her manipulation didn’t work. Jake returns to where he was sitting, staring at the flames.

He’s so close yet so far away. Right now, I could leave, and he’d never know the difference. Hank might tell him he ran into me, but it wouldn’t matter. I feel as if I’ve already caused him enough pain, and the last thing I want to do is add to that. Then I remember my why and look down at the slip of paper in my hand and what I’m leaving behind me.

I take a few steps forward and sit down next to him.

My heart is beating so hard it might be lodged in my throat, but I push the fear of rejection aside.

At first, he doesn’t notice. But when he turns to me, his jaw nearly touches the ground.

“Claire? What are you doin’ here?”

I cross my feet at my ankles and stretch out my legs. “It’s a very long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he says, moving his eyes from mine.

It doesn’t take an optometrist to see the hurt I’ve caused. The light that burned bright is gone, and he seems like a hollowed-out version of himself. Guilt floods me, and I try to catch my breath by sucking in ragged air.

He looks over at me. “You good?”

Butterflies flutter in my tummy when he asks. “I will be,” I whisper.

“Okay,” he says, and the concern on his face isn’t lost on me. I’d do anything to have him pull me against him and hold me in his arms. But I’ll never be a Lacy; I’ll never force myself on a man who doesn’t want me. It’s awkward as hell not to know where we stand, but I don’t have the courage to ask, not yet.

“To answer your question on why I’m here, it’s because I needed to have this conversation with you face-to-face. No more lies, Jake. No more secrets. We’re past that, and I know you hate me, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

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