By the grace of God, we made our way to the bar. However, the crowd and the game didn’t take my mind off the girl sitting across from me. A few drinks later and Rylee was looser than I had ever seen her. She was joking around, rooting for the Cowboys and making me smile more than I had in the last few months.

She was the perfect fix for a broken soul and instead of my mind conjuring all the ways we could mess a bed; I found myself hanging on her every word. I wanted to know everything about her.

Her past and her future.

Her secrets and her dreams.

It wasn’t until half-time when she shifted gears and took the focus off herself.

“You basically know my life story, Gio,” she said, licking buffalo sauce off her thumb and pointing an accusing finger at me. “And I know almost nothing about you other than you’re a great uncle, supportive brother and an amazing kisser. It doesn’t seem fair.”

She’s right. Throughout all the texts and since I’ve picked her up, we’ve spoken very little about me and if I’m being honest, that has been my intention. It’s not that I don’t want to give Rylee the same respect she’s given me but, I’ve never been one to be very forthcoming about my personal life. Maybe it’s because there isn’t much to tell or simply that I’m ashamed of the things I’ve done in my past. The things I continue to do because there is no other choice.

Life has never been easy for me and my sister. Our father wasn’t much of a father and our mother had taken off when we were just kids. We had to learn to care for ourselves as an act of survival. When shit went bad—which it often did, it was up to us to fix it. No one was going to swoop in and make things right.

“What do you want to know?” I ask. Knowing I’m walking into fire, I lift the long neck beer bottle to my lips and wait for the onslaught of questions.

“I want to know you,” she replies softly. “And before you start, I already know the basics. I know you help your sister. I know Matteo’s condition and I know it’s killing you that he’s so sick but before life threw curve ball at you, there were other things about you that made you who you are today and I’d like to know them.”

I can guarantee she wouldn’t.

I can promise her she wouldn’t want to know that I sold drugs on the street to keep the electric on or that I stripped four nights a week so my nephew could get on the transplant list. I doubt she’d want to know I dropped out of high school or that I was arrested for stealing a car.

In fact, I’m certain Rylee wouldn’t like anything about my past and the future don’t look to bright either.

“Not much to tell,” I begin, draining the bottle before placing it back on the table. “I didn’t finish school,” I admit, deciding to pick and choose my truths. If I filter through the grit, then maybe there will be hope a girl as good and pure as her can be with a man who is as hopeless as me.

“My old man wasn’t too happy with it but, he didn’t push me. Instead, he told me to get a job and earn my keep. I was good with my hands and the guy next door took pity on me. He gave me a job, taught me how to build something out of nothing and I’ve been working ever since. My sister and I are tight, even more so since she’s raising Matteo on her own. I’m a simple guy, Rylee. I like football and my sister’s lasagna. Give me a beer every once in a while and I’m happy. And, if there is a God who wants to grant my nephew a miracle then that’s all I need.”

Reaching across the table, she takes my hands and intertwines our fingers.

“Those things don’t make you simple, they make you, you.”

“Yeah, I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing or not,” I replied honestly.

“It’s a good thing,” she whispers. “A really good thing.”

She squeezes my hands and I glance behind her at the flat screen television. I was never one to take a compliment. Probably because I can count on one hand how many I’ve received throughout my life. Dragging my eyes away from the game, I force myself to meet her gaze.

“How about another round?” I question. She flashes me that smile, and it kick starts my pulse once more.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she teases.

“Do I have to?”

“No.”

One girl.

One word.

One chance to get it right.

Without bothering to order another round, I ask for the check and pay the tab. The game is forgotten. As is the heavy truth and the nagging guilt that I wasn’t completely honest about my life. The only thing that seems to exist is the girl I’m with and the acceptance she provides.

The light she offers in an otherwise dark world.

Using the excuse of the bar being too loud, she suggests we go back to her place and finish watching the game. However, we both know the game will be over by the time we get there. We are also very aware our clothes will be off and I’ll be buried between her legs.