He stays motionless, staring at me.
“You are putting a Sahara-Desert-size barrier between the two of you.”
“I’m just doing what she asked. I’m still there for her anytime she needs anything, and I care about her.”
There lies the problem because he and I know this, but I don’t know how much Sienna believes it anymore.
“Are you being her friend, though?” I question.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“I don’t think you’re hiding whatever you’re feeling as well as you think you are. It’s hurting her. She’s terrified you’re going to leave without a word.”
“I would never do that,” he says. His voice is louder now.
I nod. “It doesn’t change how she feels.”
He buries his face in his hands.
“Are you scared of how much you care about her? Afraid of the commitment those types of feelings come with?” I ask.
His head snaps back up to look at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Is that why you’re keeping her at arm’s length, and you have with every woman I’ve ever seen you with?”
He leans back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe,” he groans.
I knew it.
“Why is commitment so scary for you?”
His head tilts toward me. “Are you my therapist now?” he asks, giving me a look that’s straight out of the petulant teen’s playbook.
One of my shoulders pops up in a shrug. “If that’s what’s needed,” I say casually.
“If I don’t commit to anyone, then I won’t get hurt when they leave. Everyone always leaves.” He’s back to staring at the ceiling again.
Now it’s time for those tidbits I’ve put together over the years. “I’ve only ever heard you talk about your mom and not your dad.”
“Because she’s the only one that matters,” he growls quietly.
“Did your dad leave when you were a kid?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I was six.”
“I was five.”
He tilts his head back in my direction. I’m pretty sure he knew this already. Living in a small town doesn’t leave much up to the imagination.
I decide to tell him something very few people in my life actually know. “I woke up one day, and he was just gone. No goodbye. No phone calls. Nothing. He just wasn’t in our lives anymore. Hadley wasn’t old enough to remember my dad, but I was. I thought for a long time that I must have done something wrong.”
He nods, like he understands every word I’m saying.
“Thank goodness my mom is who she is, because with her help and a child therapist, I processed those feelings. They don’t consume me anymore.”
We’re both quiet for a beat while I fiddle with the hat in my lap.
“Are you falling for her?” I ask him. I would ask if he’sinlove with her, but I don’t know where his heart or head is right now.
