“I never said you were crazy…then or now.”
She scoffed. “No, you told me that I was being stupid. That if I ran away, I’d get kidnapped, chopped into pieces, and made into sausage.”
He laughed. “Sorry about that. I might’ve snuck into my uncle’s horror movie collection that year. Gave me a vivid imagination.”
“Yeah, well, it was a pretty motivating speech. Then you told me to stop sitting in the mud and to come inside so you could kick my butt at video games.”
“Which pissed you off and made you come inside.”
She glanced over, smug. “And I beat you. Badly.”
Finn took a sip of his drink and raised his glass in salute. “My male pride was forever wounded. Thanks for that.”
He’d been hella impressed, though. The girl knew how to play. They’d agreed from that point on that anytime she wanted to run away, she could come over to Finn’s for a while. He’d had his own brand of loneliness going on at his house, and hanging out with Rebecca had been a fun distraction.
“You saved me from running away. I probably would’ve gotten myself into major trouble or, perhaps, been made into sausage.”
He stretched his arm over the back of the couch and hooked his ankle over his knee. “You were never going to leave. You were smarter than that.”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking out at the yard again. “I didn’t have many friends back then. I was always…kind of intense. But I figured other kids just didn’t get me. Then Mom left.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “You have any idea how it feels to know that you’re not even likable or lovable enough for your own mother to want to be around you?”
He winced. “That’s not—”
She lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Then you and I became friends and it seemed like…oh, maybe things aren’t so bad. He gets me.” She gave him a wan smile. “I fell hard, Finn.”
The words hit him like a soft punch to the chest. “Bec.”
She didn’t look away, though her eyes were sad. “I always knew it was a long shot. But after the shooting, my hope got even stronger, because you saved my life. I didn’t remember how much hope I’d pinned on things working out with us until we dug up that time capsule. My letter is…ridiculous.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
She gave him a sardonic look. “I had us getting married in Paris, having kids, and had already named our dog. Bartholomew, in case you were wondering.”
Finn lifted his eyebrows. “That’s…specific.”
“Well, you know me. Always making a detailed plan.” She waved a hand dismissively. “But that’s not the point. That’s not why I’m out here.”
“Okay,” he said carefully.
“I’m here because when I saw you and Olivia kissing on the deck that night at the hotel, saw how you looked at each other, it…knocked me on my ass.”
His frown deepened.
“Not because I’m still hung up on you. I’ve thought through that. That’s not it. I don’t even know you anymore, really. But it made me realize that you never looked at me like that.”
He didn’t know where she was going with this, so he practiced what he did so often undercover—kept his mouth shut and let someone who wanted to talk, talk.
“How long were you together?” she asked.
“About a year.”
She inhaled a deep breath and released it. “God, I was such an idiot. You must’ve thought I was pathetic.”
“Of course not,” he said emphatically. “I never thought that. I loved hanging out with you. And if I led you to think what we had was more than friendship, I’m sorry. The last thing I would’ve wanted to do was hurt you.”
“Thank you.” She sat up taller as if steeling herself for something. “But it doesn’t really matter at this point. What matters is that I read my letter and realized I’ve been stuck in this same place. And if I want to get out of it, I need to ask the hard questions. So all I want to know is—why not me?”
The question was said matter-of-factly, but it sliced at him and drew blood, knowing that he’d hurt her, one of the few real friends he’d had in his life. Unease moved through him. “Bec…”