Okay, getting sidetracked.
“Do you know how May became my daughter?” I ask. I may not talk about it much, but I’ve known Travis a damn long time. It must have come up at least once, or he would have heard it around town.
“Her mom was your friend, right?” he says gently.
“Yeah. April was my best friend. She got pregnant really young, but she was so excited to be a mom. She swore she’d have the kind of relationship with her daughter that she never had with her own mom.”
“She didn’t get along with her parents?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Anyway, when she found out she was sick, she told me she wanted me to adopt May. She didn’t want her parents raising her. And I didn’t understand why she thought I could do a better job raising a kid at twenty-one than they could, but she said she knew I’d do an amazing job, and that...”
When I get choked up and can’t go on, Travis waits. He nudges the muffin toward me again, so I break off another small piece and pop it in my mouth, still not really able to taste it.
“April told me that May was going to need me, but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted me to take her. She knew I’d need May too. She didn’t want me to be alone once she was gone.”
After I spill that truth, I’m afraid to look at him. Because how pathetic is that?
May has turned into this awesome young person. She’s smart and funny and kind. And she’s totally self-sufficient. Most days she’s the one making sureI’veremembered to have dinner or do laundry.
April was right.
But I shouldn’t need my daughter more than she needs me.
Something warm touches my forearm. Travis’s hand. I’m sure it’s supposed to be a gesture of comfort, but somehow the contact sizzles through me like an electrical current. Which is wrong on so many levels.
It’s not like he’s never touched me before, and I don’t normally react like this. It must be because I’m feeling vulnerable right now. Maybe some wires got crossed in my brain, making sadness and horniness go hand-in-hand.
I don’t want Travis like that. He’s my friend.
And he’s straight.
Not that I’ve ever seen him dating anyone. I would think he’s a monk if it weren’t for the fact that this town is full of nosy (but well-intentioned) people, and I’ve heard stories of how he “sneaks out of town to get his rocks off, thinking no one will find out.”
I don’t know why he doesn’t date. He’d be excellent dating material.
“It’s too bad you’re straight,” I say, letting something absurd fall out of my mouth without thinking for the second time in fifteen minutes.
He studies me, eyes a bit narrowed, like he really doesn’t know what to make of me. Like he’s torn between offense and confusion. And I remind myself that,right, he’s not inside my head, so he couldn’t follow my train of thought.
“If you weren’t straight, I could ask you to be my fake boyfriend,” I tell him, chuckling awkwardly.
Travis blinks at me. Once, twice. Then—“I’m not straight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
TRAVIS
“You’renot...You...What?”Brenden stammers.
And what the hell is wrong with me? Did that really just come out of my mouth?
It’s the truth, but still. He didn’t need to know that. No one in this town knows about my sexuality. Especially my dad.
For a moment, I panic. But if there’s one person in this town I trust not to blab things, it’s Brenden.
“Are you serious?” he asks, when I say nothing to clarify for him.
I glance around us. Two little old ladies are playing a card game at another table, but they’re too far away to overhear. A handful of workers are setting something up out on the lawn, also too far away and probably too busy to eavesdrop.
