she left. Just sorry we weren’t right together.” He takes another puff and leans back in his chair. “I miss your mother.”
I swallow hard. Other than our anomaly of a conversation yesterday morning, Dad and I don’t have talks like this, and we definitely don’t talk about Mom. “You do?”
“She was my heart.” He swallows hard. “Love like that is rare, but assholes like me fuck it up anyway.”
“I don’t want to fuck it up with Mia,” I say, studying my hands. “I love her.”
“Then be with her.” There’s something comforting in how simple he makes it sound.
“I keep pushing her away. I don’t know if I get another chance at this point.”
Dad stamps out his cigar, stands, and pats me on the back. “Then you should go to her and beg for one. That’s what your mom would tell you. Life’s too short.”
I yank on the pant leg of my jeans to show him my ankle monitor. “House arrest.”
“I think you can figure this out, son.”
I swallow hard, both hopeful and terrified at the prospect of holding Mia in my arms again as soon as today.
He opens the front door and then stops. “Ask if she’d be interested in coming back. Katie will be with me half the week, and I’ll need help around here.”
And I need her. “You have to give her a raise.”
“Already done.”
“And have her sit with us at family meals, and hire someone else to cater your parties. No treating her like the help.”
“Understood.”
I nod. “I’ll ask her, then.”
Dad goes into the house, and I pull my phone from my pocket and dial my probation officer.
Mia
I am wrung dry and I am filled up.
I am confident and I am terrified.
I am lost but I know exactly where I am.
Bailey lies beside me in the grass across from Dad’s trailer. From under the big maple, we stare up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle through the leaves.
“You have room for one more?” a deep voice asks from our feet.
My heart skids to a halt and then accelerates again all before I can take a breath. Arrow.
“Holy shit,” Bailey mutters. She props herself on her elbows. “Aren’t you on house arrest?”
“I told my probation officer what happened today and that I owed some apologies.” He looks at his watch. “I have an hour.”
Bailey hops up and brushes her hands on the back of her jeans. “I’ll just get out of your way, then.” As I sit up, she winks at me and then strolls away.
Arrow takes a step toward me, but before he’s close enough to touch, he stops and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Gwen left Dad.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He looks over his shoulder toward the house. “You know, I think it’s okay. I think he was sick of falling short on making her happy.”
I shake my head. “That’s where they went wrong. It’s not his job to make her happy. It’s hers.”
He gives a sad smile. “Yeah, someone told me something like that once.”
I lean back on my elbows and study the starlight through the broad branches of the old maple tree. “She was wise.” I swallow hard.
“Do you remember when you told me about your mom? About the fire and the sun?”
My stomach twists. I tried so hard to justify ignoring my feelings for Arrow. “It was just a metaphor.” It was a false binary that didn’t work in a world where two guys who were best friends were both so important to me.
“I like metaphors,” he says, sinking to sit in the grass beside me. “But that one’s never worked for the way I feel about you. I don’t want to be your fire or your sunshine.”
I can’t pretend to look at the stars anymore. I turn to look at his face and see he’s watching me. “You came here to tell me again that you don’t want me in your life?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just not the metaphor I like. It’s too simple to describe what I feel for you.” Reaching over, he brushes my hair behind my ear. “You’re not the hot, burning fire, because you’re there even after a long, hard rain.” He swallows and takes a breath. “You’re not the sun, because you’re there in the darkest night.” He traces my lips with his thumb.
“Arrow . . .”
“You can’t be the wind—beneath my wings or otherwise”—he laughs and then his smile falls away as he traces his thumb down the column of my neck—“because you keep