Page 55 of Drifting Hearts
Shane’s expression darkened at the sight of me, but he grabbed a couple of glasses.
“Beers?” he asked us.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said to him, but Kieran accepted the drink. Shane filled two glasses anyway. He slid one to Kieran and kept the other for himself.
“I have a feeling I’m going to need this.”
“Before I go find Archer, I wanted to thank you personally. You didn’t have to do any of the things you did for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he said.
Shane still clearly disliked me, but I got the feeling that he might not murder me in my sleep.
“I know, but why you did what you did matters less than the impact it had on someone.”
Shane stared at me for a minute before another bartender appeared and gently shoved him out of her way. “Move your ass, Taggart, and let a girl do her job.”
She turned her attention to me. “Can I get you something?” She was bubbly and sweet, but there was a sharp edge to her that I liked. It was obvious she didn’t take Shane’s shit either.
“Is Archer around?” I cut a glance over to Shane, who sighed and rolled his eyes.
“He’s upstairs. I’ll let you through the back.” He handed his drink to Kieran. “Grab a table for us.”
Sweat prickled at my skin like Shane was leading me to my demise, rather than a door that opened to a stairwell. A rather unremarkable stairwell.
“His shop is upstairs. It’s closed right now so you’ll have to knock. Get up there before Cyrus sees you.”
Cyrus was Archer’s brother and I had no interest in facing him just yet. Cyrus would always hate me and that was okay. I deserved his disdain. But I wanted to apologize to Archer without causing another scene, so I dutifully slipped through the door and went upstairs.
The door opened before I could knock. “Kieran texted me a thirty second warning.”
Archer didn’t move to invite me in.
“I can leave if you want.”
He shook his head and then stepped aside, letting me into his space.
Archer had a shop. It was obviously an apartment that had been converted into the perfect space for him. What would have been the living room was set up with his equipment. A couch sat against the wall at the other end of the room near the door. His portfolios were on the coffee table, neatly stacked.
I recognized every piece of art on the walls. Even ones I hadn’t seen before I recognized as being his work.
“You always were better than me,” I said, admiring a piece that highlighted his love of ‘80s movies.
“You never did give yourself enough credit,” he countered. He’d moved across the room from me, like he couldn’t stand to get too close.
“Archer, I—” My knees refused to hold me up for any longer and I found my way to the couch. Sitting down heavily, I forced myself to look up at him. “I can’t fix the things I broke. There’s no amount of money or time or apologies that can repair what I did to our friendship. I’m sorry for everything I did.”
Archer let out a sigh. I’d grown used to all his tells over the years, but I was having a hard time reading him now. He went to the kitchenand pushed himself up onto one of the counters and took a seat. He kept his hands on the counter at his sides as he kicked his feet back and forth. “I don’t want you to think I forgive you.”
I knew deep down that forgiveness was a long shot, but his words were still an arrow to my heart. It hurt, even though I knew it was coming.
“But I don’t want you to think I hate you. I’m not even sure I’m still mad at you. It was hard, seeing you in the hospital like that.” He paused to clear his throat. “It’s hard to stay mad at you knowing that whatever you put me through, you went through worse things. Knowing that you put me through hell, but I ended up here.” Archer waved his hand around the space. “I met Shane because of you. I might not ever be in a place where I want to be your friend, but I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out again. My eyes stung ferociously from the tears I refused to cry. “I didn’t think you’d even be willing to talk to me, let alone not hate me. You should hate me.”
“I did,” Archer said in a matter-of-fact way. “I hated you a lot. Every day I thought about you and what you did and it ate at me. And then I got tired of being eaten alive by it.” Archer hopped off the counter and I stood, somehow knowing that our conversation was coming to an end. “What you did took a lot from me, but we can’t go back and change things. I have an amazing life now, Clay.”
I tucked my hands in my pockets to hide the way they shook. I hadn’t felt this unsteady, uncomfortable, wrong-footed in weeks. Archer didn’t hate me and it should have felt like a gift. And though it wasn’t forgiveness, it felt like more than I deserved.
