Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
She looks assured and determined. My entire body feels coiled so tight I feel like I’ll burst apart at any moment.
“Andrew just gave me some good advice,” she says quietly. “He told me to give you the benefit of the doubt, because this was hard on you too and you’re having some issues processing. So, I’m going to do just that.”
“You shouldn’t,” I tell her without thought. The words are cruel and meant to set the tone that I regret nothing right now.
Avril takes another breath, and although she’s trying to come off as composed, her voice trembles slightly. “So, you don’t think it was incredibly callous not to come check on me? Or have an ounce of sympathy for me? Or give me your shoulder to cry on?”
Fuck… of course I sympathized with her, and it killed me to see her so upset. But it killed me that she was so upset over him, and I can’t shake that loose no matter how hard I try or how much she wants to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I lean forward in my chair, placing my forearms on my desk. I realize how much this entire scenario looks like a business meeting. Like we’re discussing something extremely grave and important that could impact Caterva, yet we’re talking about our lives here.
“I don’t have it in me, Av,” I tell her. As expected, the disappointment in her eyes makes me feel shittier than I’ve ever felt in my life. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say anymore. I certainly can’t tell her how unstable I felt seeing her mourn over another man, or that my insecurities and vulnerabilities got the best of me. No way am I admitting that to her, because it makes me weaker than her and that will be my personal shame.
There is no way I can tell her I don’t trust her. That I tried, and I thought I could work with these new feelings, but the first time she showed the slightest hint of abandoning me—even if it was just to grieve for a past love—it made me question every single action and word she’d ever given me.
“So, this is it?” she asks, her voice raspy as tears fill her eyes. “We’re over and we just go back to what… being best friends?”
“If we can,” I reply, but even I know that’s not how this works. I just broke her heart, and there’s no way she’s ever going to laugh with me again the way friends should.
“We can’t,” she whispers. Despite how soft the words sound, they have the force of a steel door slamming shut on me. Something deep and painful aches in the center of my chest, but I ignore it.
“Maybe in time—”
“No,” she cuts in on me as she stands up. She looks down at me. With more determination in her voice than I’ve ever heard, she says. “Never. I knew the risks. I knew what I stood to lose by trying to make something with you. I knew that the friendship was the stake, and I was prepared to lose it because I thought you were worth trying for. But apparently, I was wrong.”
God, she was so fucking wrong.
Despair hits me, presses down upon me… turns the world gray right before my eyes. I failed her and myself, but really… I sort of felt this was the way it would turn out.
“The hurt you’ve caused me… I can’t come back from that, Dane,” she says, and the pain in my chest becomes unbearable.
Thankfully, I don’t have to face her anymore as she turns and walks quietly out of my office.
CHAPTER 28
Avril
Andrew holds my hand as we walk to his car. The graveside service for Jamie was nice. Jared spoke, as did a few other friends. It was awkward for me to see them, and I sat in the back row to keep my distance as I wasn’t sure what to say.
Hi. Nice seeing you. I’m the woman who broke Jamie’s heart and then signed the documents for him to die.
Andrew squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. He’s been my rock, not only giving me the support to express my grief over Jamie’s death, but also for the sudden demise of my relationship with Dane. I haven’t gone back into work since I walked out of Dane’s office. Andrew’s been at my house during the days, working diligently from my living room. I didn’t need him there, but the fact he wanted to be there for me was sustaining enough. At my insistence, he went home each night so he could have the comfort of his own bed and I could cry myself to sleep without him hearing me.
“You okay?” Andrew asks as we walk side by side over other cemetery plots toward his car.