He turned and ran a hand through his hair. He’d always believed in honoring a person’s wishes, so he would leave. But he wouldn’t leave Moira alone. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket as he walked, and dialed Tess’s number.
“Hey, Tess,” he said when she answered. “I’m leaving Moira’s house now.”
“How is she?”
“Not great. Would you mind checking up on her?”
“Sure. But why aren’t you staying with her?”
Gil opened his truck door and got inside. “She doesn’t want me here.”
“Did you two get into a fight?” Tess asked.
“Not exactly.” No, instead he’d professed his love for her. That was the opposite of a fight. “Maybe having a good friend by her side right now would be better.”
“Okay. I’ll head over right now.”
“Thanks, Tess. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Gil?” Tess hesitated. “Moira hasn’t let a lot of guys in on a romantic level. The fact that she let you in is a big deal. Just be patient with her, okay?”
Gil looked up at Moira’s home before backing out of the driveway. “I will. You can’t stay where you’re not wanted though. And right now, she doesn’t want me here.”
“I’ll update you in a little bit,” Tess promised.
“Thanks.” Gil drove home, where Doug was still sitting on his couch along with Goldie.
“Hey, Gilly. Want to hear about the tour of my new home?”
Gil shook his head. “I do, but can we maybe talk about it tomorrow? I’m kind of beat, buddy. I think I’m just going back to my room.”
Doug stood. “You’re upset.” He walked over to him and gave him a big hug.
Gil didn’t think he wanted it, but mid-hug, he realized he needed it. He pulled back and looked at Doug. “What am I going to do when you’re not right next door to cheer me up when I need it?”
“You’ll just drive to my place. You’ll always be welcome.”
Gil smiled even though he didn’t feel like it right now. “Ditto, buddy.”
* * *
Gil resisted calling or texting Moira until that night when he was about to fall asleep and couldn’t take it any longer. He reached for his phone on his nightstand and pulled up the thread of messages between them.
Gil: Are you okay?
He waited for several long minutes for her to respond. Finally, he decided she wasn’t going to answer him. Maybe she was already asleep, which might be a good thing for her. Then his phone pinged with an incoming message.
Moira: I’m okay.
Gil: I’m glad to hear it. Can we meet up for breakfast for tomorrow?
Moira: I’m going to lay low for a few days.
Gil: I’ll come to your place then?
Moira: Maybe another time. Sorry.
Gil sent some follow-up texts, but Moira was no longer responding to him. He pulled up Tess’s contact and called. If anyone knew what was going on with Moira, it was her.
“Hey, Tess,” he said when she answered.
“Sorry, Gil. I was supposed to update you. I just got home.”
“It’s okay. How is she?”
“She’s upset. I didn’t even know about what she did to that guy. She never told me. That is so unlike Moira.”
Gil cleared his throat. “Well, Felix had it coming.”
“What do you mean?” Tess asked.
Gil hesitated. “Because of what he did.”
“I’m still not following,” Tess said.
Gil froze. “Moira didn’t tell you what happened?”
“Apparently not.”
If she didn’t tell her best friend, she wasn’t going to defend herself to the public either. “Is she just hoping this will all go away by laying low?” Gil asked.
“Moira is good at laying low. Too good for her own good. I don’t care that she terrorized some guy in the past. I’m shocked because that’s not the Moira I know, but it sounds like there’s more to the story.”
“Yeah,” Gil said. “It’s not my story to tell though. Thanks for the update, Tess.”
“Of course. Gil?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I’m not just Moira’s friend, I’m yours too. I haven’t really known you to get serious with a lot of people either. Speaking from experience, you don’t get sparks often. When you do, they’re worth fighting for.”
“Thanks,” Gil said for lack of anything better to say. “Bye, Tess.”
“Bye.”
He disconnected the call and set his phone back on his nightstand. Then he lay back in his bed and closed his eyes. Tess was right. Moira was worth fighting for, but how could he fight for her when she was emotionally MIA? And did she want him to fight for her? He was in love with her, but did she feel the same way?
* * *
Moira’s phone rang. She stared at it for a long moment. The last three calls had been from the media. There’d also been one from an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in six years. Everyone wanted to know about Moira’s criminal past.
Moira finally reached for her cell phone and eyed the caller ID. Her stomach dropped. It was worse than the media. She loved her mom, but Darla wasn’t calling for pleasantries. She’d want to know why she’d never heard a word of any of the things the article was accusing Moira of, and if Moira was guilty, why had she done them.
If Moira didn’t answer, her mom would just drive over here. On a breath, Moira connected the FaceTime call and held the phone in front of her face. “Hi, Mom.”
“Are you okay?” Darla asked immediately.
Moira was sick of being asked that question. She didn’t want to lie anymore. “Not really.”
“Is it true?”
“Yes,” Moira said, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea. She’d always had a fear of disappointing her parents.
“I’m guessing it wasn’t Gil’s apartment you were wrecking. This roommate of his must have done something pretty awful to warrant you behaving so badly. I know you. You wouldn’t harm anyone unless they hurt you first.”
Moira swallowed. “He tried…” Her mouth was dry, and her heart was beating way too fast. “He tried, but he didn’t,” she managed to say.
Her mom exhaled loudly on the other line. “I see. Well, regardless of what did or didn’t happen, I’m so proud of you, Moira.”
“Proud? But I committed crimes. I broke into someone’s home and destroyed their belongings.”
“Yes, you did. And you also stood up for yourself. Maybe not in the right way, but a woman in pain lashes out. I’m not here to judge you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Moira swallowed past a tight throat. “Mom, I want to drop out of the mayoral race. I can’t do it. I can’t.” Tears rushed to her eyes as she explained what she’d been thinking about for the last twenty-four hours. “Maybe that makes me weak or cowardly, I don’t know, but having my life under this microscope for others to pick apart isn’t for me. At least not right now.”