Page 135 of Beneath the Surface

“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the way my actions made you feel, does it? They’re still valid, they’re still...” She trails off, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Blowing out a breath, she tries again. “The truth is,” she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ve always been a little bit selfish.” Her voice wavers and my lips curl up at her words, becauseyeah,she has been. “And over the past year especially, I’ve had to come to terms with a lot of the things I’ve done, and how they’ve affected the people around me.” Her fingers squeeze mine. “The people I love most in the world.”

The walls of my resentment shake as her words pelt against them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Chase and me.” Tears roll down her cheeks and she wipes them away with the back of her hand, closing her eyes as she leans back against her seat. “But more than that, I’m sorry that I let you down as a friend.”

“Lee, you—”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s true, Lily. Iknewthere was somethin’ wrong with you. Iknewyou needed help.”

My throat tightens, memories of my teenage years causing the old scars to pulse like fresh wounds.

“And I kept pushin’ it to the side, more worried about my damn self. And then...” She shrugs. “It was too late.” Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, her forehead wrinkling as she breaks into sobs, her shoulders shaking. “You were already gone.”

A ball blazes in my chest, surging up through my esophagus.

“I’ve spentyearstryin’ to come to terms with the fact that I let you down. But there’s nothin’ to come to terms with, other than the fact that I’ve always kinda been a shitty friend.”

I bark out a laugh, her cursing catching me off guard.

“But we all have to learn from our mistakes, and try to grow from ‘em, right? Ain’t that the point of livin’?” She looks at me, her eyes red and watery.

I stare back at her, a sense of peace washing over me, realizing that she’s right. Staying mad is staying in the past. And I don’t want to live there anymore.

“What is it your mom always used to say?” I ask. “About forgiving?”

She sniffles, glancing down at her lap, swallowing around her tears. “Forgiveness is divine, Alina May.”

My vision blurs as I nod, my eyes looking at the ceiling of the car. “Yeah. Well. I forgive you, Alina May. And I hope you can forgive me, too.”

Lee chokes out a strangled noise, reaching across the console and wrapping me in a hug. It pulls at the wounds on my right side, but I ignore the pain, sinking into the grace of growth.

Wind whips through the open windows, blowing our hair into tangles, and Lee leans back, wiping under her eyes. She giggles. “I think Mama agrees with us. Whenever the wind blows here, I like to think it’s her, givin’ her seal of approval.”

* * *

We’resmack dab in the middle of a barbecue. Chase and Eli are manning the grill, my baby boy is bouncing on Mason’s lap as he sits next to me, his arm around my waist. Blakely is taking live shots to post on her Instagram, showcasing the spread. I’ve been enraptured by her today, watching her explain to strangers on the internet how she’s been struggling all week, knowing she’d be surrounded by this food today.

She’s young, but I’m envious of her strength.

Sam and Anna are chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and Lee’s father, Mr. Carson, is sitting right next to me.

“This might not be my place,” Mr. Carson says suddenly.

I turn to look at him, my brows rising. Mr. Carson and I were never super close. He was always heavily invested in Eli’s basketball career, so it was her mom who I bonded with. But he was still there—still a part of my childhood. I can’t even imagine what he’s been through after losing the other half of his soul.

“But I know about your issues with drugs.”

My stomach tenses. Okay, blunt, but I’ll take it.

He leans in closer. “I’m an alcoholic.”

Sadness weighs down my chest, a kindred spirit sparking between us, a sense of relatability that no one else here could possibly understand.

“I’ve made horrible mistakes. I’m sure you can relate.” He smiles thinly. “But I go to meetin’s three times a week, and you’re always more than welcome to come with.” He clears his throat. “If that’s somethin’ you’d wanna do.”

I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “I’d love that, Mr. Carson. Thank you.”

He grunts, leaning back in his chair, and I grin as everyone is corralled for dinner.

---