Page 31 of A Man To Remember
I jump to my feet. I need to move. Need to do something, anything, with the energy crawling under my skin. "I destroyed your life."
"Jesse—"
"No, I did. I saw something private and I turned it into gossip. I ruined everything for you because I was too high to think about consequences." I'm pacing now, wearing a path in Austin's carpet. "What kind of person does that?"
"Someone who was sick."
"That's not an excuse!"
I stop pacing, and turn to stare at him. He's watching me with something that might be compassion, which is somehow worse than anger would be.
"How can you even stand to look at me?"
"Because you're not the same person you were then."
But I am, aren't I? Deep down, underneath all the recovery and therapy and meetings, I'm still the selfish piece of shit who destroyed someone's life and then forgot about it because staying high was more important than dealing with the fallout.
"I have to go." The words tumble out on autopilot. "I can't... I need to..."
I'm grabbing for my jeans, pulling them on with shaking hands. Austin stands and reaches toward me.
"Jesse, wait—"
"Don't." I jerk away from his touch. "Don't touch me. I can't... I can't handle you being nice to me right now."
"Where are you going?"
"Home. Away. I don't know." I'm pulling my shirt on inside out, but I don't care. "I need to think. I need to process this."
"We should talk about it—"
"Talk about what? About how I ruined your life? About how I'm such a selfish piece of shit that I don't even remember doing it?" My voice cracks. "There's nothing to talk about, Austin. I hurt you. Badly. And I can't take it back."
I'm at his door now, fumbling with the locks through my tears.
"Jesse, please—"
But I'm already gone, running down the hallway like the coward I've always been.
I make it to my car before I completely fall apart, sobbing against the steering wheel. My phone buzzes with a text, probably from him, but I can't look at it. Can't face whatever kindness he might be offering that I don't deserve.
The drive home is a blur of tears and self-loathing, my brain spinning with fragments that might be memories or might just be my guilt filling in the blanks. A party. A bedroom door. The look on someone's face. The casual cruelty of teenage gossip.
By the time I reach my apartment, one thing is crystal fucking clear:
I don't deserve forgiveness for something I can't even remember doing.
And I sure as hell don't deserve Austin.
CHAPTER 13
AUSTIN
SLEEP IS A foreign concept tonight.
I've been staring at the ceiling for hours, watching shadows shift across the plaster as cars pass by outside. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jesse's face. The way it crumbled when understanding hit him. The horror in his eyes when he remembered.
When Imade himremember.
