Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I scoffed and shook my head as the horrid, disgusting feelings I tried so hard to overcome overruled my genuine love for my best friend. “So you didn’t stand over Will’s body and tell Josh that Will was where he was meant to be?”
Her widened eyes focused on Josh. “I…”
“What was it you said?” I tilted my head at my best friend. “He’s with Peyton. Right? And he could have gone on to get married and have a family, but no love would ever compare to what he felt for her. I hear those words every time I see your face.” They tasted like acid and ate away at what emotional defenses I had intact. I’d only ever spoken them to Dr. Circe.
“Fuck,” Josh hissed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“Morgan, that was…you were…” Paisley shook her head and glanced around our group like they’d give her the answer.
“What? Private? Do you honestly think anything in this group is private?” I accused. “Ember heard you, remember? And she got understandably upset because Josh wasn’t talking to her about what had happened over there, but he’d somehow managed to talk to you, right? So Ember called Sam for a little support, and Sam happened to be in my hotel suite checking on me.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam cursed. “I never meant for you to hear that.”
“I know,” I told her softly. “You were in the living room because I could barely pull myself out of bed, and you put it on speaker because Ember wanted Grayson’s point of view, too. I’ve never blamed you. I wouldn’t have made it through any of this without you.”
Her lips pursed as she struggled to compose herself, but she managed a nod.
“I didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have been able to love you,” Paisley swore.
“But not as much as Peyton,” I countered. “Just because my last name isn’t Donovan doesn’t mean I wasn’t capable of making him happy.”
“I didn’t think that!”
“You didn’t think of me at all,” I countered. “He was called home to your sister, right? Now they finally had a chance to be happy. That’s what you said.” My eyes stung, and my vision wobbled through the sheen of gathering tears.
Her lower lip trembled.
“How the hell can someone who calls herself my best friend stand there and say that his only chance at happiness was in death? You knew I loved him!” I jabbed a finger at her. “Am I that horrible, that unlovable in your eyes that you would rather see him dead with your sister than alive with me? I might not be as sweet, and kind, and perfect as you are, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of him.” Hot, angry tears fell from my eyes, and I didn’t wipe them away. Let her see them. Let them all see them.
“No. Sweet mercy, Morgan, no.” Paisley shook her head. “Of course you’re worthy, and loveable, and it kills me that you think that—”
“Then why?” The raw cry ripped from my throat. “Why would you say he was meant to be dead instead of mine?”
She took a deep breath and glanced at Josh. “Because it was what Josh needed to hear.”
“And just what the hell did you think I needed to hear?” The tears fell quickly now, their warmth stolen by the ocean breeze as they reached my jawline.
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “But I can see now that I didn’t say it to you.”
“You didn’t bother with me.” My voice fell. “You were pregnant, and Jagger had three billion surgeries. I know that, logically. You were exhausted, and scared, and dealing with a whole host of things. I remember because when you’d call, that’s all we’d talk about. And it was my fault, too. I should have told you back then, but I’d gotten so used to protecting your feelings that I didn’t know how to be honest with mine. So I kept quiet and faked my way through the days, and the weddings, and the phone calls. But the nights? I can’t fake those. And because no one saw fit”—I waved my hand at Josh and Jagger—“to take the time to show up and tell the woman who loved Will exactly how he actually died, I get to picture it playing out differently in every nightmare every night. But it’s okay since it’s just me going through it and not any of you. And hey, that’s better than making you guys relive it, right? Who cares that I don’t know as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you? But the thing is that my therapist wants me to have this imaginary conversation with Will that’s supposed to take place where he died, which is ludicrous, but I can’t argue because the therapy is working. But I can’t even do that because I have no idea what happened that night!”