Page 89 of Getting it Wrong (Addy's Rollercoaster)

I’d never heard that. Pressure built behind my eyes to release tears I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore.

“Get sober, Collin,” Barry warned. “You’re going to regret this.”

“She needs to hear.” His breath as acidic as his voice, he turned his head slightly. “Let it be a lesson to you or any other guy who thinks he can break through the ice to get to Addy’s fire.”

“I–I’m not cold.” Hot tears brimmed in my eyes.

“You are.” Refocusing on me, Collin pierced me with his sharp gaze. “I was your boyfriend for months and felt it every day. Your lack of faith in me. Your distrust. It was a permanent frost, reflected in your eyes every time you looked at me. That’s why I waited so long to have sex with you.”

“No,” I whispered. “It was good. We were good. You were everything I wanted.”

“To a point.” His eyes shone like the edge of a piece of polished steel. “To a line you drew. You on one side of the wall you’d built, and me on the other.”

“But I didn’t,” I said. “Why would I do that?”

“Just in case I turned out to be like your dad.”

Inside, I reeled, dizzy from his accusations. Spinning, I feared he was right.

“You were prepared from the beginning for me to disappoint you, to fuck us up like your dad fucked up your family.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t even realize.”

Tears fell, leaving trails of wetness on my cheeks. Collin didn’t seem to note my apology or the tears, or maybe he just didn’t care.

“I did love you,” I said. And I still did, though it only hurt to hold on to those feelings now.

“I don’t want your love.” Collin dropped his arms and turned away after delivering that one last blow. Rejecting me, devastating me, he made a tragedy of the love we’d shared.

I slid to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. Sobs racked me, and I gasped for air.

Barry crouched in front of me. “He didn’t mean it.”

My best friend. I wanted him to hold me. But that was over too. I couldn’t ... wouldn’t reach for him. His expression seemed concerned, but then what the hell did I know about anything?

“He meant it.” I sobbed, tears sliding down my cheeks. “He meant every word. And he’s right. I’m a bad person.”

I’d justified hurting Collin, but he’d called me on it. Was there anything worse than me, a person carrying on with deception so thorough that they didn’t even realize they were doing it? My father had probably lived a similar lie, and still lived it, leaving us and never coming back.

“You’re not a bad person,” Barry said firmly. “You’re you, and you loved him. He loved you too.” His handsome features drew taut as if summarizing my relationship with Collin in positive terms hurt him somehow. “But he was keeping things from you. Doing drugs and all, not talking to you about his concerns, he’s not blameless in things going wrong between you.”

Dropping my chin, I said, “I don’t know what to think.”

“I do.” Barry took my hands, interlacing our fingers and pressing his palms to mine.

With my chin down, I stared at our joined hands. His were so much larger, warm where I was cold. Focusing on our connection, I continued to spiral, my thoughts in a whirlwind, but his touch grounded me.

“Addy, look at me.”

I glanced up. He was using that voice, the low and meaningful one, rugged and real like his work-roughened hands. We were similar souls broken by the events in our lives, but not completely beaten. He knew what it was like, what you sometimes had to do. I had to listen to him.

“Sweet Addy.” He gave me a gentle smile. “It takes two to make a relationship work. Two being completely honest. Two getting through the rough stuff that comes along. Not lashing out like Collin just did, not cutting each other down.”

“Those are just words. Ideals. Nice sentiments.” I shook my head dismissively. “But not doable in the real world.” Not that I’d ever seen.

“We’re real,” Barry said. “Me and you. Our friendship.”

“We’re two making a relationship work, you mean?”

---