Page 174 of Exiled
Throat thick, I nod. “I hope so.”
Scoffing harshly, Hal stabs his fork into the little that’s left of his pie. Mine sits untouched.
“What?” I murmur.
He cuts me an unimpressed look. “You know what.”
I look away, staring blankly out the window. “Of course it would hurt,” I admit softly, “if he moved on.” This isn’t the first time we’ve discussed this, though it has been a while. This time of year though…
It’s as raw as if it just happened.
“But…” Hal says leadingly.
“You know what,” I throw right back at him.
He grunts. “Stubborn, thick headed fool.”
Snorting, I reach for my coffee, and take a big gulp now that it’s cooled some.
“You know if you just trusted that his feelings for you were real and forever—”
Now I’m the one scoffing, leveling him an unimpressed look. “Forever? Really?”
He holds his hands up. “I’m just sayin’.”He’s always just sayin’.
Gritting my teeth, I stab my fork into the pie. The utensil creaks under my grip, and I shake my head. “No, no, you know what.” Leaning forward, I hiss before I can think better of it, “He’s a child. He doesn’t know what he wants.”
Hal’s brown eyes widen and he rears back slowly. “Wow, okay. There’s a lot to unpack there.”
Glaring at him, I feel that familiar twinge of self-loathing slinking forward. Like black sludge, slipping through my body, mottling anything good.
He was eighteen.
He was eighteen.
He was eighteen.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that. On the island, in the heat of…us…it was easier to ignore. To will away the doubts, and fears, and reality of the situation.
In the diner, Hal’s brows furrow as he searches my face. This is the first time I said it point-blank. The first time I let the icky, horrid feelings in me fly free. They’ve festered for so long…
“You know, Nol,” Hal says with an air of disappointment. “I’ve half a mind youenjoybelieving you’re the predatory asshole you say you are.”
I stare at him.
“And since the guy’s not here to stand up for himself, I’m going to say it. You’re a dumbass, and you need to give people more fucking credit.” He gives me a knowing, arched look. “You’re so damn scared of being left in the dust, that you’re the one doing the leaving, and look where that’s got you.”
I swallow hard. “I have Abby.”
“Barely.”
I scowl. “I’m in her life.”
“Barely. You’re her babysitter, and you know it.” He huffs. “Come on, kid. You’re tiptoeing all over your life because of one mistake. There’s a fighter in you, and you’ve just squashed him away, all because what? You worry it’ll all get taken away from you again?”
Gritting my teeth, I look away, blinking rapidly. Again, this isn’t the first time we’ve had this discussion, but it’s usually only in relation to Abby. Not my feelings and failures when it comes to Skyler.
For a long moment, neither of us say a thing.