He paused before continuing. “I didn’t put it together at the time. I only saw my father shrink deeper and deeper into his shell. And then my senior year of high school, she thought she found the one, the guy who was worth breakin’ the cycle for, so she left. Left Dad. Left Drum. Left me the day after I graduated from high school. That guy didn’t work out, but then she found her current husband. And Dad…he was left with nothing. He lost his house in the divorce. He’d lost his wife years ago. When I went away to college, he moved to Knoxville to be close to me, but I didn’t visit him much because I blamed him for what happened. Since then, he’s retreated from the world even more. Now he lives in a one-bedroom apartment with a couple of cats.”
“You lost something too, Marco. That counts for something. That matters.”
His mouth quirked to the side as he kept his eyes on the road. “I was a grown man. They both figured I was fine on my own. Neither one of them thought to make sure I was okay. Mom was too excited to be free, and Dad just wanted to ignore everything.”
Which explained why he hadn’t called either one of them to help him after he was shot. Why he hadn’t allowed anyone to help him. He believed he couldn’t count on anyone. Funny how I’d come to believe that too.
And yet here we were, counting on each other.
“When I first found out,” he continued, “I thought, Well, that’s no surprise. Dad ignored her for years. Of course she went looking for love and comfort somewhere else. But over the last few months, I’ve spent a lot of time thinkin’ about their relationship and what I remember. And now I wonder if I got it all wrong. What if my father retreated deeper and deeper into his work because she broke his heart over and over again? What if I broke his heart when I chose her over him?”
“Oh, Marco…”
“I think it affected me more than I realized,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s made it hard for me to trust people. To accept them at face value. My parents seemed to have a decent relationship, and my mom always acted like a good, caring person. I realize that’s why I’ve had trouble committing.”
Was that why he hadn’t been seeing women over the last few months? Because he’d been trying to sort out his feelings? Had I gotten everything wrong?
“My mother had an affair,” I said. I’d told Marco that Randall Blakely wasn’t my biological father, but I’d given him no details, and he hadn’t pressed. “I have no idea why she cheated. When I was young, my parents always seemed so happy and in love. They were trying to have another baby and couldn’t get pregnant, so they went to an infertility specialist. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect they found out my father was sterile…and that’s how he knew I wasn’t his biological child.”
I ran a hand over my head. “I was young, only eight or nine, so I only understood bits and pieces of their arguments. It wasn’t until I was much older that I put the pieces together. I realized that the accusations my father had hurled at her were about his own brother.”
I took a breath. “My uncle left Dallas around the time Mom died. I know he wasn’t at the funeral, because I looked for him. He’d always been so nice to me. I don’t know if he knew I was his child, but I’d like to think he didn’t. That he wouldn’t have knowingly left me with a murdering sociopath. But then again, maybe he never left at all. Maybe my father had him killed.”
“Carly.” Marco’s voice sounded strangled.
“But your insight has made me re-examine my past relationships. I’ve never been in love, not really. The only person I felt comfortable committing to was Jake, because he’d been my best friend for years and I was sure I could trust him.”
A new thought struck me.
I was repeating the exact same pattern with Marco.
“What?” he asked, noticing the change in me.
These feelings I’d noticed the past few days, were they my broken psyche’s way of finding a relationship? Was I doomed to repeat every mistake of my past?
“What are you thinkin’, Carly?” he asked, his question laced with anxiety.
No, I might be repeating my previous pattern, but Marco wasn’t Jake. And there was no reason we couldn’t remain friends. Just friends. These feelings I was experiencing couldn’t be trusted—they’d tarnish and tear something beautiful. Not that Marco was looking for that anyway. His relationship patterns were just as messed up as mine.
I gave him a smile. “I’m thinkin’ that you’re a very insightful man. More so than most. I’m thinkin’ that I have terrible judgment in men, so I’m very lucky to have stumbled into a friendship with such a good one,” I said with a laugh.
“I’m not Jake,” Marco said. “And I’m not Wyatt.”
“No,” I said. “You’re Marco, and I need you in my life. I don’t want to screw that up.”
He glanced at me, his eyes filled with sadness. “I need you too, and I would never do anything to risk losing you.” He shifted his gaze back to the road. “When I said I’ll never lie to you, I meant it. No secrets. I won’t give you a reason to
