Page 95 of Exes That Puck
Payton’s eyes widen, but she stays quiet.
I wipe my tears and snot. “I was the one starting a lot of the fights. Don’t get me wrong, Zeke has his shit, for sure, but I went off the rails. Everything he said, I thought he was picking me apart. I didn’t feel good enough. I thought he was lying to me allthe time. I was so insecure, and I didn’t tell him why. It was too much, and I don’t know if it’s been Zeke at all or if it’s just been me spinning things around, trying to prove my mom––aunt––wrong.”
“Where’s your mom now? Your real mom?”
I suck in a breath. “She died when I was six months old.”
Payton gasps. “How?”
“Drinking and driving. Car accident.”
“And your dad?”
I shrug. “I don’t know who he is.”
“Holy shit, Kare.”
“Yeah, so I’m sorry. I tend to do this with people I love. I just push everyone away. I start stupid fights. But I don’t want you to be mad at me. You’re like the one best friend that I have, and I want that it to remain that way. I love you as a best friend, Payton. I’m so sorry.”
She stands and opens her arms. We hug as I cry on her shoulder, finally letting out years of buried pain and confusion.
It’s exactly what I needed. She sees me now—how broken I am—and understands.
We stay like that for several minutes until I finally stop crying and pull back.
“You should tell Zeke,” she says softly.
“What? No.”
She nods. “I think you need to.”
I wipe my face with my sleeve. “He thinks I’m with Josh right now, so he probably wants nothing to do with me.”
She reaches over and wipes the remaining tears from my cheeks. “Call an Uber, Uber girl, and go to his house.”
“What?”
“I understand you so much more now. Maybe he will too. Plus, you love him, right? Go to his house and tell him.”
I offer a slight smile. “I think you’re right.”
I grab a change of clothes and throw them in my bag while Payton watches. The tension between us has completely dissolved, replaced by the kind of understanding that only comes from real vulnerability.
“Thank you,” I say. “For listening. For not judging me.”
“That’s what best friends do,” she says simply.
I pull out my phone and call an Uber. While we wait for the car, Payton and I sit on her bed talking quietly about lighter things—classes, weekend plans, anything that isn’t heavy or complicated.
When my phone buzzes with the notification that my ride has arrived, I take a deep breath.
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”
“I doubt that,” Payton says. “I think he’ll want to see you. Even if you guys don’t get back together, you both need closure.”
I nod, grabbing my bag. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You just need to be honest.”
