The silence between them filled him with an unfamiliar panic. He’d never told anyone that before. Mom and Dad and Grace still thought he was clueless. He’d never confided in Kyle or anyone else at the time, and it had never seemed pertinent after.
“Jacob.”
“It’s not a big deal.” He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that he had to move. And not look at her. And move. He walked around the room, poking at peeling plaster and warped floorboards.
But eventually the silence was too much, and when he looked up, she was still standing in the same place, watching him with a kind of pained look.
“What?”
“It’s...” She swallowed, and if it was anyone besides Leah he might think the bright sheen to her eyes meant she was about to cry. But Leah... He could not picture Leah crying.
“I think the fact that at sixteen or whatever you...carried that burden and didn’t tell anyone. I think that is really...amazing. I was not that together as a teenager. Not even a little.”
He shrugged because it hadn’t been about being together. It hadn’t been about anything except doing what they wanted. Sure, he’d been scared and it hadn’t been easy not to hug Mom a little more tightly, stay home instead of hanging out with his friends. It wasn’t easy, but it was just...what had to be done.
She touched his elbow, her fingers curling around his arm. She swallowed again. “I really do think that’s amazing.”
The compliment made his chest ache in a way that was entirely new to him. It wasn’t exactly a pain, just a kind of weird...pressure. The fact that she thought this was such a big thing made it feel bigger even though it was twelve years ago.
“Well, you know, you do what you have to do for family.”
She nodded. Obviously she agreed. They were doing this ridiculous pretending thing. But she wasn’t letting go of his arm. Her hand held him there in a tight grip.
And that meant he couldn’t step away, and it meant stepping closer was too tempting to resist.
Her eyes didn’t leave his, and she didn’t move away. They just...stood there, and all he could think about was last night when he’d kissed her. A nothing kiss. Seconds at most, born of some weird frustration and none of the heat or sparks he felt standing right here, right now.
He could kiss her this time and it wouldn’t be veiled in pretend, and it would be a hell of a lot better than a peck in the dark.
But in the heaviness of the moment, he couldn’t force himself to act, thinking or not. It felt too important. Everything between them felt too important to complicate with a kiss.
This was getting...out of hand. He wasn’t thinking, and that was just not something that usually happened. He was almost always thinking and planning and anticipating, but this was...
He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we talk about your family? They’re going to expect me to know some things, and I know nothing. Except you’ve had some problems.”
She took a step back. “Yeah.” She shoved fingers through her hair, loosening the tenuous pile even more. “And a drink. I need a drink.”
Yeah, he could definitely use a drink. Or ten.
LEAH LEANED HER head into the fridge and prayed for divine intervention. Like maybe a lightning bolt to strike her dead. Well, maybe not dead. But it would ideally cause enough of a distraction.
Sadly, no lightning bolts descended, no roofs collapsed. Nope, she had to sit down with Jacob and talk about her family after...that.
“Can’t find anything?”
Right. She was supposed to be finding beer. She made a big production out of moving things around, then pulled out two bottles.
Jacob wrinkled his nose. “You seriously drink that stuff?”
“Sorry I’m not a hipster into autumnal blends.”
“It’s not being a hipster. It’s having taste buds.” But he took the offered bottle and slid into the seat at her little kitchen table. The table itself was cluttered with mail and various winter garments like hats and scarves, but she’d kept stuff off the chairs and the counters all weekend, so she was getting better in the tidying department. Betterish.
She slid into the seat across from him, pulling her sleeve over her hand and screwing the cap of the bottle off. Jacob did the same, glancing around her kitchen. She imagined he found it lacking. Or cluttered. Or both. But he didn’t say anything. His gaze turned to her in that considering, heart-jitter-inducing way he had.
“Your family.”
Yes. That was the topic they were discussing. “Right. Well, Dad’s a mechanic, Mom’s a lunch lady and my brother, Marc... He’s a cop.”
“And they live in Minnesota?”
“Yeah.” It was weird talking about them, even these minor, glossed-over details. It was weird thinking about them and thinking about Jacob. It was still so much like two different lives. Two different Leahs.
“Come on, Leah. You’ve met my parents. Eaten with them. Listened to my dad’s jokes. My mom has forcibly hugged you. Think about the things you know about them and tell me the same stuff about yours.”
How could he be so rational? How could he be so smart about this while she was just a floundering idiot? She thought about his story and pretending he didn’t know his mom was sick and her heart ached for him.
Because even with Jacob’s secret, he was close with his family. The McKnights weren’t perfect, exactly, but they had the kind of family togetherness Leah had envied in her lesser moments. They talked; they hugged; they loved.
God, what a story. At the age she’d started drinking and sneaking out because she was tired of being confined to hospital beds and being admonished to take it easy, he’d carried the burden and fear of knowing his mother was fighting a possibly life-ending illness. All because he knew that was what she wanted.
If she thought too hard about that...about what it might mean if extended to her, she’d make a grave mistake. So she focused on what she knew about the McKnights.
“My mom makes the best cannoli.” She shook her head. “That’s dumb.”
“No. It’s perfect. Then I can say, ‘Mrs. Santino, I hear you make the most amazing cannoli.’ And then I can quote The Godfather. Perfect.”
Leah sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s going to love you.” And Mom would, because on the surface, Jacob was perfect. Handsome and successful and good with people. He would schmooze Mom, win over Dad, buddy up to Marc.
Jacob grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s going to make it a little harder when I have to tell them we broke up.” She fiddled with
