Page 11 of Before Broken Vows
I've been sneaking my glances, too. It's almost annoying that he looks good. Better than I remember, in fact. Like he hasn't aged. His eyes seem more blue, his face sharper and more defined. His black hair styled just like I remembered.
I feel impatience bubble up inside me, the silence choking me. I can't just not say anything the entire trip, but something tells me he knew that.
"I'm sorry," I finally say, my voice cutting through the thick silence.
"For what, exactly?" His tone sounding almost sarcastic. "For ghosting me? For crawling back when you need something? For lying to me now? Or for thinking I'd still give a damn?"
"I haven't lied."
"Lies of omission are still lies."
"That's rich coming from you."
His head snaps toward me, eyes flashing, before returning to the road. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"Nothing." I turn toward the window. "Nothing at all."
"Years of silence and the first thing you do is throw accusations." He shakes his head. "Typical."
"I'm not the only one with secrets, Theo."
"The difference is I never abandoned you without explanation."
His words land like a slap. He's right, but it doesn't make this easier. Especially on this same damn drive we used to take, talking about everything and nothing. Now it feels like I'm walking through a minefield.
"Well, I was talking about your dad. I heard he?—"
"Yeah, well I don't need anything from you. You weren't around so let's just leave this topic alone."
"Okay," I say about as hollow as one can.
We fall into silence again, but it's different now. The way he looks at me when he thinks I don't notice makes my skin burn. It's the same look he used to give me before?—
No. I won't let myself go there.
"How have you been?" I ask lamely, desperate to change the direction of my thoughts.
He laughs. "Seriously? Small talk now?"
"I'm trying."
"Lucky me. And here I thought you forgot I existed."
"I never forgot you." The admission slips out before I can stop it.
His eyes flick to me, holding something unreadable in them. "Could've fooled me."
We slip back into silence, but Theo's restlessness grows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, his jaw works back and forth. I know these signs—the way pressure builds inside him before eruption.
"I'm sorry," I say again, because what else can I say?
"Stop apologizing unless you mean it."
"I do mean it."
"Then prove it. Tell me why you're here. Tell me who's after you."
I shake my head. "I can't."
