There was something about his face that made it easy to confide in him. It had always been that way. And in that moment it was comforting to fall back on how things used to be. When I could tell him anything and I knew that he’d listen.

So against my better judgment I opened myself. Even with all the shit between us I wanted to confide in him the way I had once been able to. I needed my friend.

I needed Mitch.

And his girlfriend, his hurt feelings, or one night-stand didn’t matter.

“It’s my mother,” I said. “She has an amazing ability of making me feel like total shit.”

Mitch was more than aware of my rocky relationship with my parents. He knew about my ongoing feelings of failure and their unrealistic expectations.

He had been there when I had fallen apart after fights and cruel words.

He had seen, firsthand, the unhealthy dynamic that existed between my family and me.

“What did she say?” he asked, sitting down on a stool and inclining his head to the empty one beside him.

I hesitated only a moment before hopping up beside him, propping my chin with my hand. “I tried to tell her about my promotion. She only wanted to talk about how I needed to see a new therapist. One that clearly thinks I’m crazier than my current one does.”

Mitch’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’re not crazy, Gracie,” he said severely.

“Tell that to my mother,” I murmured, rubbing my temple.

I felt his hands on my elbow and I looked up at him. I ignited under the intensity of his gaze. “When I met you all those years ago you were the most confident person I had ever met. You were a little nutty, but it was the good kind of nutty.”

I snorted. Was that a compliment? I couldn’t really tell. Mitch went on. “You liked to have a good time and everyone knew it. You owned who you were, with no apologies.”

I ducked my head at his description of the person that I used to be. I wasn’t necessarily proud of that girl. She had been a bit of an idiot. A selfish idiot. Mitch Abrams should know that better than anybody.

He lifted my chin, his fingers firm on my skin. Our eyes met and I couldn’t look away.

“I feel like somewhere along the way, you lost some of that girl and that makes me incredibly sad. Because, Gracie Cook, you’re smart. You’re capable. You’re fucking incredible and you don’t even realize it.” He was breathing heavily, clearly worked up by his admission and my eyes began to burn.

“So are you, Mitch,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mitch’s lips quirked upward into a tiny smile. “I bet you say that to all the guys,” he teased half-heartedly. Then he sobered and became serious again. “Don’t let your mother dictate the opinion you have of yourself. Because if she can’t see all the things that I do, then she’s the crazy one.”

I swallowed thickly and had to look away before I started to cry. He stripped me to the bone so effortlessly.

“Thanks.” I gave him a watery smile without meeting his eyes.

“You’re going to have to find that place where it’s okay to stand up to her. Because you deserve better than that, G. You always have,” he finished, dropping the folded napkin onto the bar and getting to his feet rather abruptly. “I should get going. I only came in because I saw Jordan’s car in the parking lot.”

“Oh. Okay. You can stay you know.” I hesitated before continuing. “It’d be nice if you did.”

Mitch’s face was unreadable if not a little conflicted. He shifted on his feet as though not sure what he should do.

“But if you have things to do, it’s fine—”

“No, I can stay.” One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three… “I’d like to,” he said softly.

“Awesome.” I grinned. It was a real one. I forgot about my mother. About my embarrassingly wet crotch. About all the weirdness that typically lurked between us.

Because he looked at me in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Like I was a girl who mattered.

To him .

“Cole just got here. We’re just waiting on you, buddy,” Jordan said over the phone. I pulled into the gas station and cut the engine.

“I just have to pick up Sophie. I’ll be there in twenty. Tell him to keep his shirt on,” I muttered.

“This is Cole we’re talking about here. His shirt’s already off,” Jordan sighed and I chuckled.

“Tell him if he messes with my saved settings on my game, I’ll kick his ass,” I said.

“Then hurry up. Maysie’s making potato skins. I’m not saving you any if you take much longer.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I hung up the phone and got out of my car. A short beep caught my attention.

Gracie waved at me from the other side of the pumps.

Stomach clenching. Check.

Heart thumping. Check.

Get a grip, Mitch!

We both climbed out of our respective cars. I unscrewed the gas cap. I felt like I was going in slow motion. I dropped the cap onto the ground and had to crouch down to get it. When I stood back up, I smacked my head on the side of the car. I was flustered.

“You okay?”

I could feel her standing behind me, but I didn’t want to look at her. It was a bad idea. Looking at Gracie Cook only brought about death, destruction, and uncomfortable hard-ons.

Of course I looked at her. I was a weak, weak man.

“You hit your head pretty hard. Any dizziness? Nausea?” she joked.