“Okay. Thank you,” he answered, not knowing what the hell else to say. “I’m not so sure I could be as generous if the positions were reversed.”
She cocked her head to the side. “If I had slept with someone you would still be angry?”
God yes, which is why he didn’t understand why he’d done it in the first place. “If you cheated while we were dating, then yeah, I would still have a problem with it.”
Picking up her fork, she looked away as if mulling his words over—and effectively making it impossible for him to speak, since she wouldn’t see him.
She pushed her food around again, jabbing the cobbler until berries spurted purple juice into the crust the way she used to do with her mother’s cobbler. “What about if I’ve slept with someone over these past four years?”
Her words stabbed him as effectively as her fork into that fruit even though he realized he had no right. He knew she’d dated a few times. He was painfully aware of each time, since his sister-in-law Lindsay made sure to pass along any gossip he might have missed.
But Lindsay had always done so assuring him none of them were serious.
Hell. As if he’d had any kind of relationship at all with June. “I guess I gave up my right to be upset about who you choose to be with, but yeah, it would bug me because I still regret how it ended with us. I wish things could have been different.”
“Me too,” she said simply.
With those two little words, Misty had reached out in a serious way here and he could, he would, do the same for her.
“I’ll go the rest of the way to your appointment with you.” Even if that meant he couldn’t come back. He tamped down the panic, for her. He owed her. “I’ll be right there by your side through the surgery, your recovery, all of it. Before you can argue, I’m not asking you to take me back. I’m only asking to be there for you now.”
The way he should have been there when she got sick. His mom worked at the hospital and had given him reports. She’d told him how Misty seemed to have given up. They all thought she would die. He’d known he was the reason she didn’t fight. It was a miracle she’d lived at all. He’d taken so much from her, from them both. He had to give something back.
She stared into his eyes and he started to hope that maybe, somehow, he could finally fix the mess he’d made. She opened her mouth, her hand sliding up to the side of her neck in that way he’d come to recognize she used to make sure her words came out right.
“You’re misunderstanding where I was going with what I said.” She covered his hand lightly. “I forgive you, but I don’t need you, Flynn. Remember? I have someone else to hold my hand.”
She’d said as much earlier, back at her house, but he’d assumed she was throwing words in his face. Certainly he would have heard about any serious relationship. But he could see the truth on her face now and it sliced clean through him.
The hell of it all? He couldn’t make himself stop soaking up the feel of her hand on his again. “You said you have someone waiting to meet you. Someone who left before you?”
“It’s not anybody you know.” She slid her fingers away and back to her lap, twisting her napkin.
“Then I don’t understand.” He sagged back in the rickety chair.
“I met someone online.”
He sat up straighter. “That’s not safe.”
“I’m not a child. I will be careful. Ted and Madison will help me as well.”
Jealousy scoured his insides like lye on exposed skin. Adding heat to the already raging burn, he realized she’d never confirmed or denied anything that had happened over the past four years. He had no rights anymore.
But knowing it didn’t stop the roar of jealousy inside him. Not that she could hear him even if he vocalized it. “I just want you to be careful. That’s why I’m here with you.”
“I’m grateful for your help. Truly.” Her hand twitched as if she might reach out to touch him again. “I think we both need some closure.”
He realized she was forgiving him so he could go home with a clear conscience. So he could get on with his life. So she could get on with hers.
She was telling him good-bye. Forever. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how much he looked forward even to bumping into her on the street. The thought of never seeing her again slashed though him, incomprehensible.
Unacceptable.
He half stood and leaned across the table, cupping the back of her neck. The glide of her hair along his fingers almost made his knees fold. He angled his mouth over hers to stop the flow of words cutting him out of her life.
She felt familiar and still so much more than he could have remembered. He knew just how their mouths fit together, the scent of her, cinnamon. The taste of blueberries on her lips. Tracing the seam of her mouth until finally, finally, she opened for him with a sigh of encouragement he could never forget.
Her hands fell to his chest, her fingers twisting in his shirt as she deepened the contact, taking it to a new level. Not two teenagers, but meeting as adults, as a man and a woman. And his body was reacting 100 percent like a red-blooded man’s.