Page 29 of The Hearts We Fumble
“I’m not here to drudge up the past.” She shakes her head. “Especially not now, when we both know there’s nothing left to talk about.”
I take a step closer, my voice quieter now, rough around the edges.
“You don’t mean that, Wy.”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, but she doesn’t argue either.
“I know I hurt you,” I continue, forcing myself to say the words I should have said a long time ago. “And I’m sorry for it. But we both know it was for the best.”
Her expression doesn’t change. But her fingers curl slightly at her sides, and I know she doesn’t believe those words any more than I do.
Wyatt shakes her head, her nostrils flaring, frustration crackling off her like a live wire.
“Is that what you want to hear?” I ask. “You want me to apologize? Fine. I have, and I will.”
Her throat bobs, her eyes burning into mine, but she doesn’t say a word. So I push forward, forcing the words out before I can second-guess them.
“I’m sorry for what happened. It shouldn’t have ever happened. And if I could take it all back just to have my friend again, I would.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, a tightness settles in my chest.
Because saying them out loud makes them real. Makes it sound like I actually regret it. Like I’d change it if I could.
But the worst part?
She looks at me like she wants to believe it. Like she’s waiting for me to say something else, something that doesn’t make it feel like I just wiped us off the map.
I don’t though. Because maybe this is what needs to happen.
Maybe this is the only way to make her stay.
I work my jaw, the muscles ticking, voice low and controlled.
“Is that all? Do you feel better now. Are we done here?” Her breath shudders, but she doesn’t push me away.
“What more do you want me to say, Wyatt?” I push. I should’ve said nothing. I should let her walk away.
“Nothing!” She shouts it, her voice raw.
I tense, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
“I want you to say nothing. I want you to leave me alone.” She blinks rapidly, like she’s trying to force back whatever’s threatening to break through. “You’ve said and done enough.”
The words hang between us, heavy, final, and I don’t know what stings more—the anger in her voice or the fact that she means it.
A soft voice cuts through the moment.
“Is everything okay here?”
Tatum’s hand rests gently on Wyatt’s shoulder, her concern evident in the way her gaze flickers between us.
Wyatt’s posture stiffens, and then—just like that—she plasters on that fake-as-hell smile.
“Everything’s fine.” She forces the words out, clipped and controlled. “We were just finishing.”
I huff out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.
“No, we weren’t, Wyatt. We’re not done,” I retort.
