Page 64 of The Lake of Lost Girls

Ryan threw his hands in the air in frustration. “We always fought, Lindsey. That’s how our relationship worked. We’d fight. Then we’d …” he swallowed, “then we’d make up.”

I thought I was going to vomit. “What were you fighting about that day?”

Ryan stared out the window. “I really don’t remember.”

He was lying. I could see that, clear as day.

He turned back to me. “Our relationship was like a roller coaster. We were up and we were down. At the time, I loved the ride. But now that I’m older, I can see how toxic it was. We weren’t good for each other. No one should love so hard it hurts.”

Hearing him talk about Jess like this wounded me in a way I wasn’t sure I could stand. Sure, we weren’t really involved, but I had come to think of him asmine.My potentialsomething.It was a blow to my heart—and my pride—to know he never really had been.

“You love her.” It was a statement of total truth.

Ryan looked contrite and almost sad. “It’s hard to get over someone when there’s no real closure. It took me a long time to mend what she broke.”

I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think I ever would again.

“What can I do to help make this better?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“You can’t doanything.” The space inside the car felt too small. Suffocating. I felt trapped by his guilt and lies with nowhere to go.

“I do like you, Lindsey. I really like you. And I know you like me, too.” The words seemed to choke him. “I know what I did was wrong. I should have said something. But I was scared. Particularly after I got to know you and I felt all of these things I haven’t felt since …” He hesitated.

“Since Jess?” My voice sounded flat.

Ryan lowered his head, staring into his lap. “I miss Jess—I always have, and I always will. But being with you …” He lifted his eyes to look at me and I wanted to slap him and kiss him all at the same time. It made me sick. “I can’t explain it. I felt likemeagain. Like the man I used to be before all of this consumed my life. Beforesheconsumed my life.” His smile was mournful. “It felt like maybe, I could finally move on.” He was close to crying. He was clearly having a deeply profound moment. But his words had the opposite effect on me.

I didn’t feel like crying. I felt like hitting something … hard.

“I’m not her, Ryan. I’m not Jess. I’m my own person. I’m not some placeholder for the woman you really love. That’s not fair to me and it’s certainly not fair to her.” His pupils dilated as he watched me warily. “She’s not coming back. Ever. She’s gone. Accept it.” I opened the door to get out of the car, but before I could, Ryan grabbed my wrist.

“I don’t want you to be her, Lindsey. Please don’t go,” he begged.

I extracted myself from his grip and got out, struggling to hold onto the box. “Donotfollow me. I’ll find my own way home.”

“Let me take you—I’ll drive you straight there, I promise.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “As if your promises mean anything. Stay away from me, Ryan. I’ll call my dad to pick me up, and if you’re still here when he arrives, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Your dad?” he chuckled darkly, “because he’s such a stand-up guy.”

“You don’t know anything about him, or me.”

“I know enough,” he seethed. “I know that he can’t be trusted.”

I wanted to scream at him, but somehow I held it together. “You’re in no position to talk about trust.”

His mouth thinned with contempt. “He’s not who you think he is, Lindsey.”

“And neither are you.” I slammed the door shut without waiting for a response. I backed away, waiting for him to get out and follow me, even though I told him not to.

But he didn’t. Instead he put his car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot.

I watched him speed off down the road and then I walked into the diner.

I sat down at a booth, putting the box down beside me, and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I needed to call my dad to come get me because I knew he would ask me a lot fewer questions than my mother would. At the moment, he was the lesser of the two evils. With a deep breath, I dialed his number and felt disappointment when he didn’t pick up.

I knew I had to call my mom, but I wasn’t in a rush to face the inquisition that I would have escaped if I had gotten ahold of my dad. So, instead I lifted the lid off the box and pulled out a pile of papers, placing them on the table in front of me. A waitress came over with a menu and I ordered a coffee and a slice of sweet potato pie.

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