Bobby Joe thrust his hands in his pockets and walked away from her. “Ever since I got out of the hospital, it’s been different between you and me.”

“How so?” Her voice sounded thin and reedy, even to herself.

“But then you’d changed before that.” He turned to face her squarely. “And that’s what I want to talk about. I finally remembered what happened before the accident. You came right out and said we should separate for a while. I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up again.”

“I—I never found the right moment.” She prayed for patience. Explaining her reasons why could set him off somehow.

Bobby Joe frowned as he studied her. “Am I wrong? Didn’t you say that? I told Parr you did.”

Mary Beth quailed under his steady gaze. Confessing she’d known that since the day she’d met Parr in the hospital cafeteria could be the spark that would ignite a major fight. But she had never asked Parr about his response.

“And what did he say?”

She hadn’t planned to ask that question. As soon as it was out of her mouth, she regretted it. Especially when Bobby Joe answered.

“He told me I shouldn’t give up.”

Mary Beth swallowed hard. “Really.”

“And I’m not going to. That wasn’t all I remembered,” he added. “When that car hit the guardrail, it was you I thought of. And what we had.”

A pretend engagement, she wanted to say. She’d been absurdly naive and he’d gotten away with outrageous behavior that hadn’t improved. If anything, it was worse. He seemed to have entirely lost the ability to see himself as others saw him, and he’d never been good at it to begin with. Even Alma would admit by now that her darling second son felt too entitled to everything he wanted. Mary Beth couldn’t fathom why Bobby Joe wanted to keep on pretending. “We can’t go back to who we were then.”

“It wasn’t that long ago, baby.” His tone was pleading. “Don’t give up on us.”

The repeated words rocked her to the core. Why would Parr give his brother advice like that? She couldn’t begin to guess.

“I can’t say one way or another. Maybe this isn’t the best time to discuss it,” she hedged. “You have a lot of things to take care of and right now—”

Bobby Joe frowned again, darkly. “I wish I knew why everyone’s treating me like I can’t think straight. I’m sick of it.”

He moved over to the main switch plate by the door and started switching off lights one by one with vicious snaps.