Page 61 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“Youdon’t, though.” His voice goes gruff. “At least not all of it, and that’s on me.”
“How is my cluelessness your fault?”
“Because there’s some stuff we haven’t talked about,” he says. “Stuff about me. About us. And maybe it’s time I cleared things up.”
I suck in a breath. What’s left for me to know? I handed him my heart. He shot me down. It was humiliating. The end.
“You want to talk aboutusright now?
“Maybe.” He blows out a gust of air. “Yeah. I do.”
My pulse is whirring, and I send up a silent prayer that my voice doesn’t crack. “I’m not sure this is the ideal moment for us to rehash everything that happened.”
In other words, I’ve already gone over our breakup a milliontimes in my head and getting over the heartbreak took years. In fact, I’m still not the same, and being back in Abieville already has me questioning my sanity.
So if Three wants to perform an autopsy on the worst night of my life, he should go ahead and do that with Ford. Or Nella. Or Kenny. His work friends. Anyone but me.
“Okay.” He clears his throat. “So, when then?”
I chew my lip, considering the best answer to his question. I mean, at least it’s pitch black in here. Three wouldn’t be able to make out the pain in my face. But there’d also be nowhere for me to hide after we dissected the details of our one-sided breakup. And anyway, the darkness wouldn’t mask the sound of my tears.
“How aboutanytime we’re not stuck in a small space together,” I say.
Three blows out a breath. “Fair enough.” But why ishethe one sounding defeated?I’mthe woman whose heart he broke. Still, he just wants to communicate—finally—so I kind of regret my sarcasm.
“Listen.” I lean over and nudge his shoulder. “I appreciate your good intentions. But you’re talking about ancient history, and I’m just not up for a deep dive into those ugly memories. Now or ever.”
He bumps my shoulder back. “Message received.” A beat of silence follows. “I just thought the conversation was long overdue.”
“Well,Ithink we should try to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. It’s going to be a long night, and I already have to pee.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three
Great.
So Sara doesn’t want to talk about anything having to do with the two of us or our past.
Serves me right, I guess.
I got so caught up in her Christmas luau that I didn’t broach the subject like I’d planned to after texting with Ford.
What can I say? She just looked so excited when I found her with the clutter of stuff she’d hoped would make the holidays more special for me. But if I’m being completely honest, that was only half the reason I didn’t talk to her then.
Less than half the reason.
An eighth at most.
Most of my avoidance comes down to being afraid to tell Sara exactly how much I cared about her. How much Istillcare about her. And it’s not like I suddenly got brave. I just figured the cover of darkness could provide some kind of buffer when I made my confession. She needs to know the feelings I had for her all those summers ago never truly went away. They just lay dormant,buried under years of teenage stubbornness. A young man’s ego. Not to mention my determination to prove her parents wrong.
Still, I waited this long, so I won’t force her to hear me out now. I can be patient. I owe Sara that much. But I’m done masking the truth, hiding from something I thought would be too difficult to confront.
When we finally get out of this room, I’ve got to face her in the light of day. And I have to make that happen before my follow-up appointment.
Once the doctor clears me to be on my own, Sara could decide to drop me straight off at my place with the intention of never seeing me again. So hopefully it’s not too late to apologize. To be fully honest. To be the one who puts his heart on the line this time.
“So what do we do now?” Sara asks. Her Hawaiian shirt rustles beside me, and I can absolutely picture her shrug. “I wasn’t expecting to sleep sitting upright all night.”
