Page 79 of Wild Catch
Sighing, I lean back to stretch my stomach and she does the same, except she massages hers. “Do you have room for dessert?” she asks.
I almost choke. Somehow I manage not to. “Uh, not really.”
“Well, make room.”
My eyebrows rise. “Bossy.”
“Any issues with that?” she asks in a deadpan.
“None,” I answer in all honesty.
“Good, I don’t like to pretend that I’m nicer than I really am.”
That tears a grin out of me—despite the absolute garbage of a night. “That’s at least not something you have to pretend with me.”
“It’s weird,” Rose says softly, those searching eyes of hers digging into mine. “I’ve always known that. You’re a no nonsense kind of guy. Yet I couldn’t understand why every so often you shut down and hide behind a mask. Until now.”
Well, shit. That makes all the amusement I was feeling evaporate in record time.
“Are you going to let me apologize now?” I fold my arms tight enough that the muscles bulge, and they catch her attention for a second.
It doesn’t break her, though. She shakes her head. “You’re not the one who should apologize. You’re not your parents.” She has no idea how that single sentence is making my head reel. “Unfortunately I have the feeling that they never will.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say slowly, my voice choked up.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” She huffs, her lips twisting in annoyance like they did on the walk over.
“What the hell for?” It takes a lot of effort to not scream in outrage, but that would get too many eyes on us.
“I should have defended you.”
It’s almost offensive how the people of a nearby table burst out laughing, a car honks down the road, and some dog barks on the park across the food truck. The voices of the truck workers reach over the noise of the customers as they yell food orders at each other. In the distance, someone’s blaring reggaeton from their speakers.
That’s all too ordinary of a backdrop against the wildest words I’ve ever heard in my life.
“I’m sorry, what?” I turn my head slightly to hear better.
“I can’t stop thinking about how I only stood up for myself andyou”—here she grits her teeth—“also defended me. But not yourself. What the hell, Logan?”
I am stunned. This is the second time she completely robs me of the ability of speech, and I don’t recall anyone else doing that in my life.
“Why…” She smacks a delicate fist on the plastic table, making the empty baskets jump. “Why did I only realize that after we left?”
“Wait, wait.” I run a hand down my face, wishing I could scratch myself all over because I’m so uncomfortable in my own skin. “Is this what you were stewing about this whole time?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “I’m a terrible person. All I did was think about myself and?—”
I bark a laugh.
Eyes turn to me.
“You’re shitting me, right?” I know I’ve finally lost it because I’m still laughing, and because now she’s the one who can’t speak. “You really think a terrible person would even realize that? They’d suckon purpose, just like my parents.”
“But—”
“Rose. You defended yourself because you were being wronged, and I did the same because I wasn’t the one who was getting thinly veiled racist insults thrown my way.”
“You were also being mistreated. Don’t think I didn’t notice how everything that came out of their mouths was to put you down one way or another.”
