Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Even when I’d sworn off love, I was pretty sure a part of me would have changed for him, but then I got over him. I fell out of love with him, and now I had Eli, who’d breathed life into me again when no one, not even myself, realized I’d been drowning.
And now Richie was back.
There was too much in my head, this loud, fuzzy white noise swimming around with all my issues—the roller-coaster ride that was my parents, the one they consistently dragged me on, and Richie… What was he doing here? Why was he looking for me? And Eli, whom I loved, whom I was having dinner with tonight, and whom I wanted to know how to be better for, who I was scared would leave me like the man standing in front of me had.
Without a word, I turned for the door. I knew without looking that Richie was following me, because that was him. He always got his way.
I shoved out the door, didn’t bother to close it, moving closer and closer to my car until his voice stopped me.
“I’m gay.”
I stilled. Froze. Couldn’t breathe.
“I’m gay. I was in denial.”
Rage surged through me. I turned, my vision blurry, and shoved him backward. He didn’t fall, but he stumbled.
“No fucking shit. That doesn’t give you the right to hurt me. To do what you did to me. Jesus Christ, Rich, the names you called me, the way you treated me when you knew, you fucking knew how I felt about you.” There was no doubt in my mind he had. He’d known, and he’d hurt me because of it. Because I hadn’t been enough.
“I know. Do you think I haven’t spent the last seven years hating myself for that? Because I have, and I know this doesn’t fix anything, but I’m sorry. I miss you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I…I still care about you. I always have.”
“No. Don’t do that to me. Fuck you for doing this to me, Richie. I got over you. Both you and my parents have fucked with my head long enough. I have a boyfriend, and I want to move forward with him. The last fucking thing I need is getting trapped in the past again.”
“Oh.” He shook his hair out of his face like he used to do. “I didn’t know you had someone—which is okay. I just want our friendship back. Can we talk at least? Catch up?”
That insecure teenager still inside me wanted to say yes, because if Richie loved me, then his leaving wasn’t my fault, and I wasn’t unlovable, and maybe Eli wouldn’t realize that truth about me one day too.
“I can’t do this with you.” I shook my head and went to my car.
“I’ll leave my phone number with your parents, in case you change your mind. And I’m sorry, about them. They’re still up to the same old thing, it would appear.”
Ignoring him, I got into my car and drove away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Elijah
I was losing my mind.
Shaw was over two hours late to dinner. I’d been calling and texting like crazy, and he wasn’t answering. Every tragedy I could think of ran laps in my brain—car wreck, robbed at an ATM, a meteor fell from the sky and crushed him. With each passing minute a new theory formed, and no matter how much I tried to shove those thoughts away, I couldn’t.
When there was a knock, my heart somehow both dropped and swelled, part of me fearing tragic news awaiting me and the other somehow knowing he was okay.
I pulled the door open, and he stood there. I basically threw myself at him, wrapped my arms around him. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead. What the fuck, Shaw? I’ve been driving myself crazy, but you’re not dead. You’re here. You’re not dead and here, right? I’m not dreaming?”
“I’m here. Sorry. I had shit on my mind.”
That made me tense up. “Okay…” I let go of him and stepped back. “First, everyone is okay? No emergencies I need to know about?”
He shook his head.
“Then you couldn’t send me a fucking text to let me know you had shit on your mind? I’ve been freaking the hell out here, thinking about all these horrible things that might have happened to you, and you couldn’t send a fucking text?”
He didn’t reply at first, just stepped into my apartment. I could see the slump in his spine and feel the sadness dripping off him, but damn, I was angry too. I thought he was dead, and he couldn’t at least text me to let me know he was okay?
“I had my phone off. I went for a drive.”
I closed the door. “Oh. Okay. Well, that makes everything better, then. I’ll just forget I’ve been scared to death for hours because you had your phone off and went for a drive. So glad we sorted that out.”