I tugged her toward a narrow side street away from pedestrian traffic. “It’s not about getting my way. It’s about why you’re so terrified to have dinner with my family. And don’t tell me pity.” There were more layers to peel back to get to her main reason. The question was whether she would let me peel them.
She huffed and puffed then poked me in the chest. “I’m in Boston to get my inheritance back. I’m not here to make amends with my past. I never counted on finding you. I’m still in shock that you live with the son of the asshole who has been gambling away my money.” She stuck her finger into my chest again. “I’m sorry about your mom. But I’m not the key to her happiness or her recovery.” She glared up at me, water filling her pretty eyes. “Also, I’ll confront Zach. This is my problem. I don’t need your help.” She marched away.
My whole body was ready to convulse at the sting of her words but also at the truth behind them. My family was thinking of Mom and only Mom. We weren’t putting ourselves in Lizzie’s shoes, thinking about how she would feel, even though she had told me a couple of times now.
Maybe I was using my mom as an excuse, afraid if I asked Lizzie to spend time with me she’d say no. If she did, the sting would feel like a scorpion instead of a bee. Maybe I should have listened to my old man and not lived my life thinking every woman would run from me.
If she rejected me, I’d be fucked up. But for seven years she’d dominated my thoughts and lived in my dreams. At this moment, I wasn’t dreaming, not when I could feel a gust of wind slap me in the face. Not to mention that her curvy form was fading into the distance like she had in my dreams. I’d protected my heart for so long. Maybe it was time to let fate take control.
“Lizard!” I shouted.
She came to an abrupt halt.
I ran up to her. Tears poured down her rosy cheeks. Schmuck came to mind. I swallowed hard, forgetting what I’d wanted to say, forgetting that a city of people sped past us on the sidewalks and in the streets. Horns blew. Beeps erupted from a vehicle backing up. Buzz, buzz, buzz went the heartbeat of Boston’s city streets. My heart beat in my ears just as loudly as the sounds around me.
She batted her eyelashes, tears hanging on the edge like I was. I was holding onto some imaginary cliff for dear fucking life, and I was about to fall into oblivion, not certain if she’d be there to catch me.
I searched her eyes for some sign she knew what I was thinking. Or maybe I was too afraid to speak. If I did, I’d scare her off. But when she blinked, the tears dropped, one by one. I went to wipe away her tears. She jerked back as though I was the scum of the earth. Fuck if that didn’t cut like a hunting knife right across my wrists. Her hair whipped in the wind as she skimmed her watery gaze over me before she darted into a group of pedestrians.
“Lizard!” I called again, my voice dying on the last syllable.
She hesitated for a split second before she ran, hard and fast. I watched her weave in and around people. I wanted to chase her, but something told me she needed space and time. And I needed a shrink.
16
Lizzie
Dillon’s Camaro was stuffy. Or maybe it was the fact that I was holding my breath as we got closer to Kelton’s house. Dillon had agreed to drive me out to Ashford. For the past forty-eight hours, I’d been replaying both the strain of Kelton’s voice when he’d called me Lizard and the desperate plea in his eyes. Like he wanted to say so much but didn’t know how. As we stood on that busy street in Boston, the world spun around him, me, us, our childhood, our tragedies. At every blink, breath, and tear, all I could think about was the good times we’d had, the feelings we’d shared, and the dream of him and me forever. I didn’t want to relive the past. Seeing Kelton was already taking a toll on me. Seeing his parents would only serve to open wider the wound that I’d closed to the past. Self-pity. Argh! The damn emotion was like a serrated knife, cutting through me every time I was reminded of the good times I’d had as a little girl when I was happy and had a family.
I toyed with the edges of my jacket then bit on my finger as houses, a farm, wooded lots, and a brook slipped by on the winding two-lane country road.
“I think you should turn the car around,” I said.
At breakfast that morning, Dillon had counseled me that having dinner with Kelton’s family might help to put the past behind me. Maybe so. Maybe I could say my piece and be on my way. After all, I hadn’t come to Boston to pine for Kelton or cry myself to sleep. I’d already done that many times over the years. Maybe it was also time for me to face Mr. Maxwell and get rid of the anger I’d been harboring since the accident. Yet the closer we got to the Maxwell house, the closer I was to puking up my breakfast.