That’s the truth of why I’m in such a shitty mood. I’m being a miserable asshole to everyone because I fucking miss Brenden. It hasn’t even been a week, and all I want to do is go crawling to him on my knees and beg him to forgive me. But I can’t. He deserves so much better than someone who refuses to claim him in public.

What makes things worse is that I don’t know if my lame attempt to save face in front of my dad even worked. We haven’t really talked much since he’s been back—mostly because I’m avoiding him—but it feels like he didn’t believe me when I told him that me and Brenden were nothing.

Fuck. I can’t believe I said that. What is wrong with me? I’m a grown ass man, and I acted like a scared teenager.

Yeah, Brenden definitely deserves better.

After a busy lunch rush where I snap at so many people that I almost start to feel bad, I’m behind the counter restocking, when the bell on the door chimes. Looking up, I see May’s unmistakable purple hair, and an immense wave of guilt crashes over me. I grip the counter, resisting the urge to bolt into the back.

Because I broke my promise to her. I hurt her dad.

She has her backpack over her shoulders and a frighteningly determined look on her face as she marches over to me.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out nervously. “I know how badly I messed up, and I understand if the two of you never want to see me again. I’ll leave Brenden alone. I’ll—”

“How dare you,” she cuts me off sharply. “You think I want you to leave him alone?”

Now I’m confused. “Well, don’t you?”

She gives me a look like I’m being dense. “I want my dad to be happy, you dumbass.”

I’m taken aback, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear. Certainly never at me. “I want him to be happy too. That’s why I’ll stay away. He probably hates me.”

“Are you serious? He doesn’t hate you.”

“But I—”

Rolling her eyes, she cuts me off again. “You acted like a jackass. Yes, I know. But that didn’t change how he feels about you.”

I glance around the diner at the remaining customers, cataloguing who’s here to witness me getting told off by a thirteen-year-old. The old couple I was a dick to earlier is still here, no surprise. They’re staring into their empty coffee mugs, pretending not to listen, but I’m sure they’ve caught every word.