Page 43 of Sunset Catchers

“I’m the one who designed it, actually.”

“Really? That’s…very cool,” I admit reluctantly. He chuckles, not at all fazed by my lack of gusto.

“Did it hurt, to admit that?”

“It did,” I say with a sigh.

“What do you have planned for the rest of your day off?”

“I have this thing with my best friend.”

“A thing?” I take the last sip of my iced coffee before dropping it in the cup holder. “We have a book club. And since we won’t be together for a few weeks, we’re going to have our monthly meeting over video.”

Levi waits all but two seconds before he bursts into a laughing fit.

“What’s so funny, big stud?” I inquire, scowling.

“Can you even call it a club if there are only two members?”

“Technically, there isn’t a required number of people that need to participate to call it a club, so the answer is, in fact, yes.”

“You totally looked that up before.”

“Yes, and?” I goad him. “Also, it is not easy making new friends in your twenties.”

A seven-person book club sounds nice, but where do you even find the members?

He rolls his lips tightly together.

“What?”

He waits until we’re parked in front of my cottage, before fully turning toward me, allowing me to grasp the full extent of the look he’s giving me. Basically, his face is telling me I’m full of shit. I unbuckle myself, angling my body slightly toward him with my back to the window. I cross my arms over my chest in a petulant way.

“Something you want to say?” I challenge with a single raised brow.

“Nothing at all, Winnie. But maybe if you weren’t so closed up, it would be easier to make friends.”

I wince. I can tell Levi regrets the prod immediately. But before he can even apologize, I grab my keys, and I’m out of the car, walking stiffly toward my cottage.

“Fuck. Winnie, wait.”

I stopped to swivel back his way, shaking my head.

I’m hurt, and I’m frustrated. Levi is right, but it still stings. I wish he understood how hard it is to open up when you have to also let the ugly stuff seep out to do so, without my having to tell him.

“I answered every one of your questions about my favorite things. I told you something about my childhood, willingly,” I argued while throwing my hands around. “I…I’m not—.” I take a big breath. “I’m sorry that I’m not as forthcoming as you’d want with my sob childhood story.” My voice has taken on a self-deprecating, sarcastic edge.

Levi hates it. His whole demeanor reeks of shame and regret and frustration. We’re on the same emotional rollercoaster here.

“I thought, by answering all of your questions, I was opening up. But it’s not enough.”

It’s not even a question; I grew up not being enough for one of the most important people in my life. That’s why it’s a bad idea to let someone close. I knew I’d disappoint him.

Levi takes half a step in my direction.

“It’s enough, Winnie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No, but you did mean to make a jab, right? To poke a bruise. See if it was tender.” The shaking of his head is certain.