Page 110 of The Lucky One

“Kiki’s good for you, isn’t she?” I remarked.

Unlike me, Paul had allowed her to help him. I had seen them together in the school halls. They were a good match, and despite Emily’s misgivings, I found comfort in knowing they could be there for each other. But Paul had better be there for Emily too.

Paul crossed his arms. “Yeah, she is,” he said evenly. “And you know who’s good for you? Emily.”

I should’ve known this fucker was only so calm because he had an agenda.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I growled, relighting the joint. If I had to have this talk with him, I needed to be high.

Paul slapped it out of my hands before I could take a hit. “Shit, did she go through all this crap with you for nothing?!”

I glared at him, anger and resentment boiling within me. “You don’t get it, man. Emily and I... it’s over. Done. Vorbei.” The German word for over.

“Vorbei?” He let out a snort. “Jon, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Emily cares about you. You’re spiraling, and you’re pulling everyone down with you.”

“Save your psychoanalysis for someone who gives a damn, Paul. I don’t need a lecture.” A thumping sensation in my head was gaining rigor.

“Heck, I kept trying to understand but I couldn’t, so that’s why I’m here. Even though you”—Paul pointed an accusatory finger at me—“haven’t even said a word to me since you came back from rehab. The last few weeks, no, months, she kept saying you wouldn’t break her heart. She keeps saying you need time. Who knows where that optimism and patience I never got is coming from—”

“What are you trying to say, man?”

Paul laughed, dropping into the other chair out of pure exhaustion. “You put me through so much shit in the last few months, but if our friendship means even the slightest fraction of what it does to me... then fucking talk to her.”

You had to admire the guy for going for it. If our roles were reversed, I doubt I’d be strong enough to fight for them to get back together.

“You still care about me?” I said, because I could barely believe it. He wasn’t supposed to care anymore—neither of them were.

Paul leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the sky. “You were my best friend for a long time. I’ll always care about you.”

A slight smile soured on my lips. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but nothing I could say would repair the damage I had caused. I couldn’t ask for his forgiveness, not when I hadn’t paid back my debt yet.

“I care about you too, man,” I said, meaning it. “But I still need more time to fix things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“Fine,” he said, but I could see a hint of a smile on his face. “I still hate you though,” he added.

“That’s fair.” I reached for the joint in the grass and passed it to him. “Care to get rid of this? I haven’t had a drag yet.”

Paul took it from me with a nod. “Will you talk to her?”

I hissed out a breath. He would only let it go if I gave him something. “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes and got out of the chair. “This is the last time I’m doing your damage control, you hear?”

“Thanks, man.” For being there for her.

I watched him leave through the gate. My plan was failing... She wasn’t letting go.

I had to try harder.

Ain’t Pretty

Emily

Out of the blue, his name had lit up my phone—a call, a glimmer of hope. But it vanished as quick as it came, leaving me with more questions than answers. Was it a pocket dial, or did he actually want to reach out? I tugged at my blanket. He might have been telling the truth after all. I’d freaked him out with my talk of marriage and he’d split.

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