My usual boasting about casual sex and hot summer flings seemed so pointless when I’d gone ahead and done exactly what my mother did every time. I’d been pretending to my family for so long, I must have gotten too comfortable with it. I’d clearly just pretended my way out of a friendship and relationship that meant more to me than I’d ever known was possible. I’d hit my own switch out of cowardice and had hurt a kind man with the biggest heart.

“We’re good,” I forced out. “I did have a lot of fun, and I’m glad we spent the past couple weeks together. Your friendship will always mean a lot to me, Dean.”

His fingers fluttered by his sides for all of a second before going still. “I feel the same way. Have always felt that way.” Then he cleared his throat and opened the door. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Late,” I said. “After dinner. I’m heading over to Alexis’s house tonight for a big Tyler family sleepover. But in between that and tomorrow, I’ll be here, working on pocket park stuff.” A rising swell of emotion threatened to bring tears when I was desperate to stay in control during this conversation. No matter what happened, I’d never be able to think about this tiny lot without thinking of the two of us doing it together. Every single step—from that first morning picking up trash to planting flowers with our fingers embracing in the dirt.

A line formed between his brows. “Okay. I’m sure I’ll see you before you leave, then.”

“Absolutely,” I said cheerfully, even as tears wanted to spill.

His lips twitched at the end. “Or maybe I’ll even see you out in Vegas sometime.” Then he left and shut the door behind him.

I wrapped my arms around a pillow covered in the logos of every Philly sports team, pressing the edge of my palm under my eyes as I cried for the first time in years. My heart had known all along—the newly opened one with a clumsy ballerina’s penchant for falling. I’d been in love with Dean this entire time.

I’d only hurt him in the end.

34. Dean

Thirty-Four

Dean

Later that night, I rounded the corner onto Tenth Street going much too fast for the end of a six-mile run. Though the six miles had been fueled by feelings more powerful than adrenaline.