Page 82 of Bitter Rival

Easier said than done. But I’m trying.

“We’ve known each other a long time. He’s like family. The only family I really have.”

“So why aren’t you together anymore?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got some time on my hands.”

I look over at him. Aviators shield his eyes, and even in shorts and a T-shirt, he looks like a Tom Ford model.

Cool, aloof, closed-off Beckett wants to hear about my ex-boyfriend?

“You really want to hear this?” I ask skeptically.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“Is this payment for driving me to the festival?”

“No. I’m just curious,” he says. “So, you loved this guy?”

“Yeah.” I sigh, thinking of all those years I was so hung up on Finn. “I did.”

“So, I’m assuming you met in California?”

“We did. We met at a skate park when I was thirteen, and he was fourteen. He was street smart. I tried to act tougher than I was, but he saw right through it. He taught me how to do tricks on my board, and in exchange, I gave him food.”

“He didn’t have food?”

“He was a foster kid. He never had enough food. I guess we kind of saved each other.” It sounds dramatic, but at the time, it felt true.

“Sounds one-sided,” Beckett remarks. “Not sure teaching you skate tricks is going to save you.”

“Well, you never know when it might come in handy.”

“If you’re being hunted by assassins on skateboards and you need to outskate them, you mean?”

“See?” I point at him. “That’s a perfect example.”

He laughs and shakes his head but instead of dropping the subject, he prods me for more information. “So, how did this guy save you?”

It feels disloyal to Finn to dish the dirt, so I’ve always tried to preserve the good memories instead of dwelling on the bad.

But for some reason, I feel compelled to tell Beckett the truth. Maybe it’s because he sounds genuinely interested, and he’s not being a dick about it.

Or maybe there’s a part of me that wants him to know me. The real me.

Either way, I start the story at a moment in time when Finn was my everything. “After my mom took off, we drove across the country. We left LA in a car that Finn hot-wired. I didn’t know the car was stolen until the cops pulled us over for a busted taillight and ran the plates. After I bailed him out of jail, we didn’t have much money left, so we bought a used car that kept breaking down.”

I laugh as if this story is amusing and oh-so-charming, but Beckett doesn’t look the least bit amused.

“He doesn’t sound like the kind of guy you should have been with. And once again, it doesn’t sound like he saved you from anything.”

In my heart, I truly believe that Finn saved me.

The girl I was at seventeen is vastly different from the girl I am at twenty-five, so it’s not easy to explain to someone who wasn’t there when my life went off the rails.

When my mom left me to fend for myself, I was devastated and heartsick.

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