Page 93 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

I shake my head. “I’m not.”

“Holy shit, Becca. Are you… are you okay?”

“Yeah… no.”

His cheeks puff out with his breath. “Tell me everything. Right now.”

So I do. I rehash every painstaking moment of interaction. How it feels like I’m standing on a ledge, my mind pushing me forward and my heart pulling me back. How whenever I’m around Eli, it’s easy to forget the reasons I left. I talk for what feels like hours, and Jeremy listens to it all, like he always does.

“I just don’t know what to do, Jer.”

He sighs. “You know what you need to do, Becca.”

I don’t want to hear what he’s about to say, even though deep down, I already know what it is—I already know that it’s right. The tears I’ve held back cling to my lashes, blurring my vision. I close my eyes, shaking my head.

“You do.” His voice is stern. “Give that man his closure and then… you have to suck it the hell up and step back. Let him be happy.”

My heart screams in protest. “But he doesn’t seem happy.”

Jeremy hums, nodding. “Maybe he doesn’t seem happy because he’s around you.”

The words sucker punch my gut, making me wince. “I don’t think—”

“That’s just it, Becca. You don’t think. You did this to yourself.”

I scoff, my face flushing.

“Don’t you huff at me. When have you ever known me to not keep it real with you?” His brows jump to his hairline. “We’ve been talking for twenty minutes now, and I haven’t heard you shoulder the blame for any of what you’re feeling. Everything’s centered around Eli and how he makes you feel.”

Bullshit.

What the hell is Jeremy’s problem? He’s supposed to be on my side.

“I do not.”

“You do, Becca. Take a second and listen to what you’re saying. That man didn’t break your heart. You broke his. You have no right to him. You aren’t owed anything from Elliot Carson.”

Fire swirls up my chest, searing my cheeks. “I never said I was. Jesus, Jer.”

My wall of defense raises high, but his words sneak through the gaps. Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything he’s saying is true, but it doesn’t matter because all I can feel is the stinging lash of what feels like his betrayal. I came to him to feel better about my situation, not worse.

He shrugs. “Be mad at me all you want. Someone’s gotta say it.”

“Get fucked,” I snap.

His head tosses back with his laughter. “Oh, honey. I plan to. Listen, calm down a bit and think about what I said. Call me back once you realize I’m right, so I can say I told you so.” He winks. “I love you, sweet cheeks. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

He hangs up and I throw my phone across the room, screaming, trying to expel this fiery energy that’s padding my stomach and making me fit to burst.

I pace my room for hours, until the song of the cicadas and the lull of the moon calms my nerves. And then, finally, I think about what Jeremy said. I focus on how it feels when he whips out his mirror and shows me the truth in my reflection.

The one I never want to see.

It’s so damn tempting to close my eyes and turn away.

But maybe it’s time I stop and take a closer look.

Tonight is my folks’ thirtieth anniversary. I’ve never forgotten the date, but even if I had, it’s obvious with the way Momma has taken extra care in getting ready for supper. She’s even wearing her special pearls. The ones she says Papa gave her on their fourth anniversary, right before I was born.

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