“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said. “You know it wouldn’t.”

Her shoulders rose slightly as she took a breath before looking up at him. “You’re not dying, love.”

He winced as if she’d hit him.

“You still have your whole life ahead of you,” she went on. Gram brought her hand to the side of his face as she said, “Don’t miss out on the chances you have to make it a wonderful one.”

Danny shook his head slightly. “Do you hear what you’re saying? So, I’m supposed to just string her along on the off chance that everything goes my way?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. “And what happens when it doesn’t go my way, Gram? What happens then?”

She stared up at him, her hand still pressed to his cheek as her eyes filled with tears. “My boy,” she said softly. “You can’t stop living. You’re the one who taught me that, remember?”

He looked down, swallowing hard. “You deserve to be happy,” she said, using her hand on his face to lift his gaze back to hers. “You deserve to be happy,” she repeated, looking him in the eyes. He stared at her as she gave him a watery smile before patting his cheek.

And then she walked past him and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Fuck,” Danny mumbled, rubbing his hands roughly over his face before he walked over to her chair and dropped into it.

The absolute last thing he needed was Gram urging him to call her—because the truth was, he’d been fighting his desire to do just that every day since that goddamn lunch date, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to resist that impulse with Gram’s prodding battling his common sense.

He couldn’t do it. It would be wrong on so many levels to pursue her. Even Gram must have known that. But her hopeless optimism was getting in the way of her judgment; she was still clinging to the idea that everything might work out. Danny understood why; it was the only thing that kept her from falling to pieces. She needed that fantasy in order to get out of bed every morning, and the last thing he’d ever want to do was deprive her of that.

But just because he was allowing her to exist in a fantasy world didn’t mean he wasn’t strongly rooted in reality.

Gram had said that he still had a future.

But he knew what that future was going to look like, and dragging someone else into it would be repulsively self-serving.

Danny laughed humorlessly, running his hand through his hair.

Maybe he’d gotten caught up in Gram’s fantasy world more than he’d realized, because it was ridiculous for him to even be thinking about what the fallout would be for Leah if they got involved. Once she learned the truth about him, she’d go running for the hills anyway. So none of it mattered.

Case closed. End of story.

At least, that should have been the end of the story.

But her number was in his phone, taunting him every goddamn day. He knew he should just delete it, but some twisted, masochistic part of him wouldn’t allow it.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t contact her again after that call about the flowers, but then he’d gone ahead and called her again on New Year’s Day, justifying it because she had contacted him first; she had texted him, and he was simply responding. After all, just because he wasn’t going to pursue her didn’t mean he had to be rude.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was how he needed to handle her. If she reached out to him, he would respond—he just wouldn’t initiate anything himself.

Danny exhaled heavily, running both hands up through his hair as he stood and made his way through the house and out to his car.

He was just going to leave it up to fate.

Danny smirked sardonically at that as he opened the trunk and sifted through his toolbox. Because if there was one thing he could count on, it would be that fate would fuck him over.

Again.

“Ugh, what a creeper!” Leah’s sister said as she shook her shoulders in an exaggerated shiver. “So he like lurks around your apartment?”

Leah sat on the counter in Sarah’s kitchen, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass as her sister opened the oven door to check the lasagna. When they first began their Monday night dinner dates almost two years ago, Leah had declared any and all conversations pertaining to Scott off-limits. Sarah was nothing if not rabidly protective, and in the weeks following their breakup, it was just a little too much for her to handle. Instead, they would spend the evening watching How I Met Your Mother and gorging on dessert while vowing to hit the gym the following day as penance.

But as soon as Leah mentioned that Scott had stopped by earlier that day, the door restraining all of Sarah’s venom for Scott burst clean off the hinges.

“I don’t think he lurks,” Leah said. “He comes to see if I’ll answer the door, and when I don’t, he leaves me whatever bullshit peace offering he brought with him.”

“And the idiot came today?” she asked, closing the oven door. “Doesn’t he realize school started back up for you?”

Leah shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe he intentionally came when I wouldn’t be home.”

“What did he leave this time?”

“He burned another playlist.”

Sarah rolled her eyes as she took a sip of wine. “Yeah, because a good mix tape will make up for the fact that he boned another girl while your father lay dying in the hospital. Oh, oh, and he couldn’t be there with you so he could nail said whore bag. But no, burn a CD, it’s all good.”

Leah nodded. “I really appreciate you bringing me back up to speed. I had totally forgotten about everything that happened that night until you just reminded me.”

Sarah laughed as she pulled herself up onto the counter beside Leah.

“Honestly, I just don’t get it,” Leah said. “I mean, he doesn’t love me. There’s no way he could have done what he did if he loved me, so I don’t understand why he’s still trying to get me back.”

“It has nothing to do with love,” Sarah said, reaching for the bottle of wine and refilling her glass. “It’s about power. Scott is the kind of guy who needs it to feel whole. It feeds him. He lost the power when you were the one who ended that relationship. I don’t think it’s about wanting you back at all, no offense.”

“Believe me, none taken,” Leah interrupted.

Sarah smirked before she said, “He just wants the power back. And if he succeeded in getting you back, he could exert that power in one of two ways. He could try to get control over you again by manipulating you, or he could end the relationship on his terms. Either way, he’d have the upper hand. That’s all it’s about.”

Leah stared at the wine in her glass as she swirled it gently. “You know, it’s a little freaky to hear all this psychobabble come out of your mouth, especially when it makes sense. Please tell me you don’t psychoanalyze me behind my back.”

“Never!” Sarah scoffed, taking an imaginary pencil out from behind her ear and pretending to lick the tip before she scribbled furiously on the pad beside her.

Leah laughed as she smacked her sister’s leg.

“All kidding aside,” Sarah said, “you should get a restraining order or something.”

Leah shook her head. She had entertained the idea once before, but the truth was, Scott had never been violent. He wasn’t aggressive or threatening. He was a selfish, inconsiderate asshole, sure, and he was a liar, but he would never physically hurt her.

“He hasn’t done anything to warrant that. You can’t get a restraining order just because someone can’t take a hint. I’m sure the police have much more important things to be worrying about besides my persistent jerk of an ex-boyfriend.”

“I guess,” Sarah said. “It’s just so annoying though, because I feel like if he would just leave you alone, you’d be able to move past this whole thing once and for all. I mean, how the hell are you supposed to forget about everything that happened when he keeps showing up every couple of months?”