Page 52 of Surrender
When her hands finally slipped away, I hurried to strip off my jeans and hung my club cut on the bathroom doorknob before climbing into bed beside her.
At first, we both laid our heads on the same pillow, tears still dripping down her cheeks and soaking the cotton. I swiped at them with my thumb, trying to find the words I needed to say without falling to fucking pieces myself.
“I know it makes me a bastard,” I whispered, my voice raw. “But it was the only option I could live with at the time. I would rather you hate me for forcing you to take that place at Juilliard than watch you grow to resent me because I was the reason you didn’t.”
Silence once again filled the room.
The air might not have been much lighter than before, but it felt a little easier to breathe now that it wasn’t so thick with secrets and half-truths.
She licked her lips and gave a soft sniffle. “You broke my heart.”
Fuck.
I nodded, my throat burning. “I broke mine too.”
I didn’t expect anything other than anger.
And that was my cross to bear.
But beneath the blankets, she reached out, carefully lacing her fingers with mine. “Guess we’ll call it even.”
Chapter Eighteen
DARCY
“So, y’all really do this every Sunday?”
Nate had mentioned as much, and I’d really thought it was an exaggeration. Yet there we were, Sunday morning, sitting in Bishop and Shay’s kitchen as the girls moved swiftly around each other like a well-rehearsed performance.
“It was something my mom started, and we’ve never gone back,” Calli explained with a wide grin. “My dad is big on family, and my mom believed that feeding people was a great way to bring everyone together.”
It made sense.
People would often gather to share food.
For birthdays, anniversaries, holidays—why not just Sundays?
“Everyone’s gotta eat,” Nate added from where he leaned against the archway. “We might as well do it together.”
“But it’s a lot of work to cook a meal this big every single week,” I said, watching the girls continue to pull ingredients from cupboards, just when I thought they were almost done.
Calli paused, spatula in hand. “Nah, we don’t do thiseverySunday. Sometimes we demand the boys cook, and they order pizzas.”
We all looked to Nate, the only guy in the room.
His brow quickly dropped into a frown. “I can’t cook for shit, so you should all be grateful.”
I gasped. “That’s a lie,” I objected with acaught-yasmile. “My mom taught you to cook, and you made me lasagna for my birthday.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Listen,traitor,” he shot across the room at me, only making my smile grow bigger. “Your mom also taught me and James how to cross-stitch one summer for a football fundraiser, but I’m not out here making throw pillows, am I?”
“Maybe you should,” Kadey teased, slipping by him as she stepped into the already crowded kitchen. “We could start a stall at rallies or club events.Live fast, nap hard.”
Cackling laughter rolled through the kitchen, brand new pillow suggestions flying. And it wasn’t until my cheeks started to ache that I realized how long I’d been smiling.
When was the last time I felt this light?
