Page 125 of Things I Wish I Said
“Maybe you should talk to her,” Trent says. I stare at him like he’s nuts. “All I’m saying is people change.” He shrugs, and I glare a hole right through him.
I don’t care if Rachel comes to me on bended knee begging for another shot. Every time I see her, it’s just another kick in the balls—a painful reminder that people you love leave.
“Hey, Grayson. Can I talk to you?”
I clench my jaw, staring at the ground beneath my feet while my heart beats a little faster, recognizing the sound of her voice instantly.
I stand there for a moment, debating my options. Run like a little bitch or face her like a man.
The former sounds enticing.
With a sigh, I lift my head, meeting her green eyes. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Talk.”
“Alone?” She chews on her lip as her gaze darts all around us.
With a sigh, I move a few feet from where everyone’s standing, waiting as she follows. Behind her, I catch a glimpse of Ry, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Okay. You got me alone,” I say, impatient. “What do you want?”
Rachel inhales, running a hand through her shoulder-length locks. When we were dating, she wore it long, halfway down her back.
I preferred it longer.
“I know how we ended things—”
“You ended things.”
“Right.” She shifts on her feet, eyes locked on mine before she closes the gap between us and reaches out, touching my arm. “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I’ve had an entire year to think about how I ended things, and I regret it. I was selfish and wrong. I hurt you at a time when you were already hurting, and if I could take it back, I would.”
I laugh, a dry sound that sticks in my throat. “Well, now that your consciousness is clear, you can move on. No worries, I’m fine.”
Fine. I hate that word. It’s a shitty way to describe just about anything, let alone someone’s well-being.
“I miss you.”
I huff. “What do you want me to say, Rachel?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down so no one can hear, though from the looks of it, everyone has moved by the fire to give us more space.
I take a step back, out of reach, and her hands fall away.
“I tried to talk to you a couple of weeks after,” she says, her voice thick. “I already missed you, and I felt terrible about the way things ended, but then your father died right after, and you were unreachable. Different. You wouldn’t even look at me.”
“My fatherdied, Rach,” I say, waving an arm around me. “If anyone knew how close we were, it was you. Hell, you were close to him, too.”
“I know, and part of me thinks that’s why I did it. I couldn’t handle everything that was going on.”
“So you break up with me and lose us both?” I ask, incredulous. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“I wanted to take it back the minute I got home that day, but you were so angry and not coping. I wanted to give you space, and then when I finally gathered the courage to talk to you about it, you refused to even speak with me.”
“What the hell did you expect?”
“I deserved every bit of the anger you directed toward me,” she says, stepping forward. “But I know you’ve been struggling this year, and I think I can help.”
I scoff, taking a step back before she touches me again. “This conversation is over. Done. You apologized, and you’re forgiven, but there’s nothing left to say.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I storm over to the fire where my friends are gathered.
Sinclair checks on me first, coming up alongside me and touching my arm with her hand. It’s the same place Rachel’swas just moments ago, except Ryleigh’s touch snaps like a live wire. “You okay?”
