Page 79 of Burn

She nods and allows me to pull her hand back into my lap. I rub my thumb over the tattoo that covers the top of her hand. My knee bounces under the table as I work to dispel some of the energy that’s coursing through my veins.

I want to go back and finish talking to Jordan. We barely had a chance to speak, and he had started to say something that sounded an awful lot like an apology when I abruptly excused myself. I need him to know I’m not the guy I was at sixteen. That I’ve matured. But he also watched me break the hand of a guy for touching Lex.

Nice one, Adrian.

The dance floor is alive with people dancing to cheesy wedding music. Lex cautiously sips her champagne. She wrinkles her nose and looks into the glass, studying the bubbling liquid, before she sets it down and pushes it away. When she realizes I’m watching her, she says, “Must be a different type of champagne. It tastes weird.”

I shift my eyes toward the dance floor, watching the bodies move and bounce. From the center, I spot Blake in her fitted white dress. I try to imagine her and Lex as teenagers, but with what little I know, I can’t imagine them being close. They seem so different. I would almost say they seem indifferent to one another until I see Blake spot Lex. Her entire face lights up, and she skips across the dance floor, grinning and sweaty.

“Morgan!” she exclaims, grabbing for Lex’s hand. “Come dance with me!”

Her happiness is undeniable, and it radiates off her. She’s practically vibrating.

“What? No. Blake, wait,” Lex argues.

“Don’t start with me, Morgan Alexandria Donnelly. This ismyday,” she emphasizes the ‘my.’ “And I demand my best friend come to dance with me on my day.”

Blake pulls on Lex, and finally, Lex cracks, smiling and laughing. She shifts to look at me over her shoulder and asks, “Do you mind?”

I nod and smile at her, silently encouraging her to go and have fun. She sighs and shakes her head and allows Blake to pull her to her feet and onto the dance floor where Blake jumps and spins along some very stereotypical wedding dance song. I watch them for a minute, and I get it. I can see it when they’re like this. Lex laughs, and her entire face changes. She looks lighter and happier.

I take the opportunity to stand and walk back to the head table. Jordan smiles as I approach.

“Sorry, man,” I start.

“Thought we would see a bit of the old Adrian Liberty for a minute there,” Jordan laughs as he stands and steps closer to me.

Fuck. Of course, that’s what he thought.

I scrub my hand down my face, and Jordan throws his hands up. “Oh, no man. I’m kidding. Please don’t take that… fuck, I’m sorry.” He rubs at the back of his neck, and I can see that he feels bad about the comment. “Can I buy you a drink? I would love the chance to talk.”

I blink at him, at the offer, and force myself to smile and joke, “It’s an open bar.”

“Well, then I guess you’re a cheap date.”

Jordan Ellis. The guy I beat nearly to death. Is… joking with me?

I nod and follow Jordan to the bar. I don’t hear him order, but a minute later, the bartender sets down two lowballs with dark liquid inside. Jordan passes me one and offers his in a toast. I clink my glass against his and drain it, needing to soften the rough edges. It burns as it travels down my throat, adding to the fire that burns in my chest. He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink.

Much more reasonable speed to drink hard liquor.

There’s a moment of silence before Jordan returns his glass to the bar, sighs, and says, “There’s something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time.” My eyes drop to the floor as guilt floods me — guilt over what I did to him. When he continues, my head snaps up and my eyes go wide. I thought he was going to apologize earlier, but I also convinced myself I misheard him. “I’m sorry, Adrian.” I don’t think I’ve ever received a more sincere-sounding apology. “That night was so fucked up, and you made really shitty choices, but I am not entirely blameless.”

I try to argue. To tell him that he was blameless, but he continues without letting me get a word in edgewise.

“I knew she was your girlfriend. I didn’t give a shit about that girl. She wasn’t even my type. What she was, was my rival’s girlfriend, at his best friend’s party. I knew what I was doing, I just also thought I was untouchable.”

I blink hard, leaning forward to hear him better.

I’m not hearing this. The music is too loud.

He continues, “I begged my parents to drop the charges, you know? I tried to explain that I provoked you and deserved what I got, but they were on a war path. Your dad being a cop didn’t help. The cops that came to the hospital also got them so fired up. Then I asked to visit you because I wanted to apologize,” he pauses, and it’s his turn to scrub his hand down his face. “They put me in therapy after that. Said I must have fuckin’ brain damage if I wanted to apologize to you, the criminal, in jail.”

My mind spins as I think back, trying to remember the day in court when I was sentenced. I slam my eyes shut, envisioning the courtroom. My parents are behind me, the judge is on the stand, and Jordan’s parents are there. I could have sworn he was there but can’t see him in my memories.

He was there. I swear.

“Liberty,” he says, pulling me out of the courtroom memory. I open my eyes, and his brows are pinched together, genuine remorse in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, man. I know you’re sorry, but I needed you to know I am, too.”

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