Page 82 of The Invitation
God.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Because I didn’t know you didn’t know. I thought you just decided I was a jerk, or a bother, and went on your way.”
“Someone told me once that I don’t have a lot of value as a person. And while I know that’s bullshit, it lingers in the back of my brain.”
Oh, Ripley.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say, stumbling over the words as I try to process the bomb that’s been dropped in my lap.
“Yeah. Me either.”
“I’m sorry. I?—”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ve done enough things to piss you off over the years to warrant hating me.”
I groan. “And I’ve certainly done enough over the years to warrant you hating me.”Not to mention being the reason your own father punched you in the face.
Thunder booms, rocking the cabin.
“Where does this leave us?” he asks, nibbling his bottom lip.
I know what he’s asking—how do we go forward? Do we forgive each other? Talk it out?
Does this change anything at all?
He’s right in that we have done a lot of mean things to each other over the years. We have made it difficult for the other. There’s not been an interaction that passed without us getting under each other’s skin.
But we’re also always together—in the same room, at the same parties, on the same television show …
If I had known the truth over the years, things would’ve been different for us. And if he’d realized that I didn’t know what really happened—if his father hadn’t fucked up his confidence—things would’ve been different for us, too.
Fuck you, Reid Brewer.
I’m starting to realize that my perception of Ripley has only been decided from behind very hurt and anger-filled glasses.And that anger has manifested such bitterness … and could have been avoided.
Ripley has always been a loyal friend to his friends, and an amazing brother to his siblings. Tate adores him. I’ve seen it, but my perception has been skewed.
“I’d watched you from the second you walked in that school. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off you. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I tried to talk to you a hundred times but chickened out.”
He wanted a very different relationship with me. Truthfully, I would’ve died to have one with him before the mixer. And the fact that we were robbed of that—because it very much feels like a robbery at this point—and it affected the next decade of our lives feels devastating.
I study his pools of blue and the stress in my body fades away.
“Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”He’s right. We can’t fix it. We can’t erase the stupid things we’ve done and said to each other over the years. But we can refuse to allow the trauma from our fathers and childish mistakes steal anything else from us. We can see each other for who we are now.
And, right now, there’s a very handsome man standing in front of me who just might be the only man in my life to ever do anything to protect me. He had my back in rooms I wasn’t in.
How wild is that?
I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know where we go from here. But I do know the answer to his question.
“Where does that leave us?” I ask, grinning. “You better get over here and kiss me again.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Georgia
