Page 88 of One Billion Reasons

“Well, I have eyes. Two, you’re always coming to her rescue. Tell me you aren’t scheming right now about how to give her that apartment in your building and make it look like it came from me.” I’m silent, and he smirks. I’m doing exactly that.

“Three.” He puts down another finger. “You told me.”

“Wait, what? No, I didn’t.” I shove off the porch to pace. “There’s no way I did because that would mean—” I’ve been lying to myself, and worse, to Lane. My pulse thuds, heavy and loud in my ears.

“Yup.” He grins, triumphant. “You were plastered. A year ago. On the anniversary of your dad’s death.” His face falls. “You said to me that she hated you and it was the worst thing that ever happened to you because you loved her. And I begged you to let me tell her that I was the one driving the car that night, and you refused. You made me swear on my parents’ life to keep it a secret.”

“Shit,” I whisper.

“Shit is right, you idiot. So why push her away? I’m pissed at you for that, by the way.”

“Because I’d rather have her as a friend than an ex. Come on, man. I’ve never made a relationship work. You really think I should date your sister?” Suddenly, I desperately want to know the answer.

Liam shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I gape. “She never speaks to me again. She hates me and never comes to Thanksgiving again. She spends every Christmas alone. I never see you or your future family because your sister hates me. My mom and Aunt Grace resent me forever for pushing her away. The list goes on.”

“But you’re there now,” Liam counters.

“Thanks for that.” He’s not wrong, though.

“It’s the truth. Sounds like you have two options. Either admit how you feel or accept that you’ll never speak to her again.”

The thought makes panic swirl in my stomach. “Not happening.”

“Then why is it so essential that she never know how you feel? What’s wrong with loving Lane?” He raises a brow in challenge.

I grimace and dig my nail under the label of the beer bottle. “Because it won’t last. And then when it ends, it will be awful. I feel like part of me died yesterday. Imagine if we had a real relationship.”

“You’re not your mom,” Liam says quietly. “Or she’s not. Whatever. No one is going to die if you take a chance.”

I frown. “I can’t afford to be weak or heartbroken. There are too many people who depend on me.” Lane. You. My mom. An entire company.

“So you think if you don’t go down that road, you can never be hurt?”

“Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” I grumble.

“That’s because it is stupid.” Liam stares at me for one long moment before he sighs. “All right.” He rises off the porch and claps me on the back. “Time to surf. Since you’re salt of the earth now. Grab the rest of the beers and meet me at the truck.”

* * *

Liam has two wetsuits, and one fits me suspiciously well. “Where did you get this?”

“Took it from the Montauk house before you closed it up.” He shrugs and zips his up. “Thought you might need it one day.”

For a second, I can’t speak. He went there and got this for me. When I couldn’t bear to go back.

“You’re a good friend, Liam.”

“I know.” He flashes me a smile and grabs his board from the back. “The other board’s probably a little short for you, but it’s the best I can do.”

The beach here, like many beaches in Montauk, is set below steep cliffs covered in scrub. A few wetsuit-clad bodies dot the water to our right, but the beach immediately in front of us is clear. Beautiful. Surfing is religion in this part of the state, and we’ve come to worship. The waves are turbulent today, rolling and crashing under the grey sky and the brisk wind. Excitement zips through me. It’s been a long time since I did this with Liam, and it feels right.

As we paddle out, I settle into the familiar stroke, the familiar thump of my heart as my body works to propel me through the icy water. I’m smiling even as Liam pulls ahead of me to cut through a swell. That same swell slaps me in the face when I don’t paddle fast enough, and I sputter.

Breathe into it. Liam’s words, but I hear them in Lane’s voice. Get out here and show me then, princess. My typical response, something Lane took as mocking, but something I always meant as a compliment. Did I put her on a pedestal, though? Did I assume that she would fall too hard and that I would hurt her? Should I have given her a chance to get hurt? Should I have given myself a chance to get hurt by her? Again?

I slice through the water until I pull even with Liam. He’s intent on the waves to our left, but nothing looks promising. I’m not ready to catch one yet, so I don’t mind.

---