"When did your mom start drinking?"
"Right after she had me. She gets worse after a breakup, I think because it reminds her of her dad leaving her. Even if she's the one breaking it off, she still loses it. She can't handle people leaving her. That's why I haven't moved out. Well, that and because I don't have the money."
"You can't stay with her forever," Brad says. "I understand where you're coming from, but—"
"I know. Nate says the same thing. I'm just worried what will happen to her if I leave. And I feel like..." I stop, not wanting to say it because part of me knows it's not true and yet the guilt still eats away at me.
"Feel like what?" Brad asks. He's still holding my hand, softly rubbing his thumb over it, calming me and making me want to tell him more.
"I um...I kind of feel responsible sometimes."
"For what?"
"For the way she is. If she never got pregnant with me, her life would've been totally different. Her dad wouldn't have killed himself and—"
"Okay, stop." Brad sits up straighter and looks in my eyes. "What happened to your mom isn't your fault. Your mom's the one who got pregnant. And everything that happened after that had nothing to do with you. You know that, right?"
"For the most part, yeah, but sometimes I can't help but think I'm the reason my mom's so messed up."
"You need to stop thinking that way. You're not the reason your mom's an alcoholic. There are lots of reasons people drink. From what Nate's told me, it sounds like she'd be a lot worse if it weren't for you."
"Which is why I feel like I can't leave her." I take my hand from Brad's and hug my knees to my chest. "I wish I could make her stop drinking. Then maybe she'd be okay on her own." I look at Brad, a smile forming. "Sorry."
"About what?"
"Talking about this. I totally brought the mood down."
"I'm the one who asked about it. I wanted to know."
"Why?"
"Because I like you. I want to know more about you."
My smile widens. "You like me?"
He smiles back. "I think I made that clear before the phone rang."
"Yeah." I keep smiling as I lower my feet back to the floor. "I guess you did."
He moves closer and cups my face. "I get the feeling you like me too."
"Maybe a little."
He leans in to kiss me, but I back away.
"Wait." I scoot back. "Don't kiss me."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"We can't do this." I get up and walk to the other side of the room.
"Why?" He stands up.
Damn, he's tall. And those broad shoulders? I love that on a guy. Dark intense eyes that feel like they could look right through you are on my checklist too, along with a strong jawline, perfect teeth, that sexy scruff covering his face. Brad has all of that and more. I look away before I run up to him and drag him to my bedroom.
"Riley, what's going on?" he asks, walking toward me.
I put my hand out in front of me. "Don't get any closer."
"Why not?"
"Because if you get any closer I'll..."
"You'll what?"
"I'll want to kiss you again. And that will lead to our hands going places they shouldn't go, and then clothes coming off and then doing something we'll both regret."
"Riley, that's not why I'm here. I didn't come over here thinking we'd end up in your bed, or even kissing." He turns around, running his hand through his hair, and sighs. "Shit. I really fucked this up."
"What are you talking about?"
"I came here to try to make you feel better. I didn't want you to be alone after what happened. I wanted you to have someone to talk to. But now, because we kissed, you're thinking that's why I came here." He turns back to me, shaking his head. "God, this looks bad. You're sad. Vulnerable. And here I am, inviting myself over." He goes to step closer but then stops. "Riley, that's not what I was doing. I swear. I didn't plan to kiss you. It's just that we were talking about Nate and then—"
"Wait. You never finished what you were saying."
"About what?"
"You were saying all that stuff about how I'm such a good friend to Nate. How I protect him. Care about him. You said all that and then said something about us."
He hesitates, then says, "You won't let us date because you think it would hurt Nate."
"I know it would. He just told me it would."
"But what about you, and what you want?" He walks up to me. "We both know there's something between us. A pull. An attraction. Something that makes us want to be together. I've been feeling it since I met you and I know you felt the same. I didn't say anything because I knew you felt this loyalty to Nate. Like it'd be wrong for you and me to even try to have any kind of relationship, even if that's what you really want. That's what I meant when I said you're giving up what you want for Nate. But it's not fair to you, Riley. Why does he get to be happy and you don't?"
"It's not about making him happy. It's about not hurting him."
"So you're giving up what could turn into something great just to spare Nate from having to deal with feelings you have no control over?"
"I don't have control over them, but I can at least save Nate from some of the hurt I'm causing him."
"At your own expense. It's like what you do with your mom."
"My mom?"
"You just said you want to move out but can't because of your mom. But when does it end? When do you get to do what you want?"
"How can you even ask that after what I just told you?" I say, getting angry. "I can't trust that my mom will be okay if I leave."
"And I get that. All I'm saying is that you put others first, which is great, but at some point you have to put yourself first. If you don't, you'll never get out of here."
"I will. Just not yet. You don't know my mom like I do. She doesn't pay her bills on time. She forgets to buy food. And when she's really upset, she takes pills. One time she took so many pills she ended up in the hospital."
"None of that is your responsibility. You're her daughter, not her mom. She's supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."
I storm to the door and swing it open. "I think you should leave."
"Why? Because I'm telling you stuff you don't want to hear?" He meets me at the door. "Maybe I'm wrong about you and your mom, but I'm not wrong about you and Nate. That relationship is too one-sided and probably always has been. He gets to be happy and you don't."
"That's not his fault," I say.
"I didn't say it was. You want to keep doing this? Great, but you'll never be happy." He walks off.
"I AM happy!" I yell after him.
I slam the door as he drives off. Who the hell does he think he is talking to me that way? He doesn't know anything about me. Even though I spent all last week with him, that's not enough time for him to make judgments about me or know who I am.