Page 85 of Resistance Training
So, fuck it, I’ll say it in the present tense, because I think if you really love someone then the love never really ends even though the relationship does.
I love you.
I love you as a friend.
I always thought you were great.
I never cared what anyone else thought about you.
I could have loved you in all the ways a person can love another person, I think. I wish you’d tried harder to love me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for not giving me achance to make things up to you. I hope I forgive you. I hope you forgive me.
I still have hope, but I’m letting you go.
I’m going to make a real effort to stop thinking about you now.
I just wanted you to know.
Goodbye, Brad.
From:[email protected]
Mar 10, 2025, 9:17 p.m.
Hey.
I’m coming over.
CHAPTER 25
BRAD
It’s raining.
It’s raining, and my heart is racing as I drive to Vivian’s house like I’m racing to the airport. She isn’t about to board a flight, as far as I know, but I am absolutely running late. Eight years late. Maybe nine. I can’t tell if my heart’s racing because I have no idea how to say what I need to say to her or if it’s because I just want to see her.Needto see her.
I am so fucking mad at myself. At eighteen-year-old me anyway. I was so hell-bent on protecting my ego that I forgot to protectherfeelings.
I felt bad about putting Bella back into the guest bathroom after she’d been brave enough to emerge on her own and explore the condo, but she didn’t fight me when I picked her up to take her back to her kennel. Her fortress. She seemed kind of relieved. That’s probably how I’ll feel when I go home after tonight. But maybe not. Maybe making Vivian feel good will be my new fortress.
I am equal parts relieved and annoyed that there is plenty of parking on her street tonight. I pull up right in front of her little house. The front porch light is on. I haven’t even checked myphone to see if she wrote me back. But I see a light through the part in the living room curtains and a shadow moving behind a curtain. As I park my car, I realize two things. One: I forgot to bring a jacket. Two: I haven’t felt like this since the morning I walked to school with sparkles on my face. I wasn’t even nervous when I was walking to school—that’s the thing. It didn’t even occur to me back then that anyone would come between us. When I slam the car door shut, Vivian’s front door opens.
It is the strangest feeling, seeing her open her door to me like this. The way she did hundreds of times when I’d walk to her house back when we were in school. There’s hesitance in her posture now, the way she rests a hand against the doorframe, but she doesn’t look much different. Her hair is down. She’s barefoot, wearing loose-fitting wide-leg pants that sit low on her hips, and a cropped sweatshirt. Much like I did when I was a teenager, all I want to know now is whether or not she’s wearing a bra under there. Will I get to see her boobs? I am a lot more confident about seeing her boobs tonight than I ever was back in Seattle, but I feel like I’m coming home.
I stride up the path, and by the time I take the stairs up to the porch, she’s opened the door wider and stepped through the doorway with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s about to get what she wants. And nothing’s stopping me from giving it to her. Not even me.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, she wraps her arms around my waist, pressing the side of her face against my chest. I hold her so tight, kissing the top of her head, stroking the back of her neck with my fingers. “I’m so sorry,” I exhale into her hair.
She grabs onto the back of my shirt, tilting her head back in a silent invitation to let me show her how sorry I am.
I kiss her forehead. Her cheek. I cup her beautiful face in my hands and kiss her mouth. Once, twice. Soft and slow with my lips parted just a little, stroking her jaw. And then I claim herwith my mouth, my tongue, confirming her teenage suspicion that I am a good kisser. Pushing her hair aside, I kiss across her jaw and down her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Something sticks to my tongue. Her necklace. That pretty little gold necklace. She tastes clean, which means she wore the necklace in the shower, and that makes me so happy on top of all the other things I’m feeling. I kiss back up her neck, her cheek, her forehead, her mouth, her forehead again.
She sighs, her knees give out a little, she rests her forehead against my chest. We settle back into another long hug. Rubbing her back, I say, “I had no idea I’d hurt you that much, Sparky. I didn’t think you’d miss me the way I missed you.”
“Well, you could have just read the emails…” she mutters. Still sassy even as I cover her with kisses and apologies.
Thank God.
