Page 50 of Always Mine

When his eyes drift up to the loft and his cheeks flush, I get my answer. He’s definitely remembering us, and I don’t know how I feel about it.

“You think it’s that easy?” he mutters, gaze dropping to his fidgeting hands. “Moving on?”

The question pisses me off. I know that wasn’t his intention, but I never claimed to be rational where this man was concerned. “If it was, don’t you think I would have already?” I bite out, wishing I could snatch the words from the air and stuff them back into my mouth.

I don’t need him to think I’m still stuck on him, even though I clearly am.

He jerks his head to look at me, blue eyes wide as he searches my expression. “So you’re not with Cooper?”

I stand, posture defensive—though something in me heats at the obvious jealousy. “We’re not talking about Cooper.”

He inhales deeply before letting it out slowly. “Right, sorry. Can we have a decent conversation, please? That’s all I want.”

Can I do that? Have a real conversation with him? I guess there’s only one way to find out. I relax slightly, biting down on my lip as I nod. “Alright.”

We stand in silence for a long while, and I’m about to give up and walk away when he speaks once more. “I want to tell you I’m sorry, only I know that’s not good enough. The problem is, when I try to come up with something more powerful to express what I want to say, I can’t. I wish I could change it. Go back in time and handle the whole thing differently. I should have talked to you more the week before I left. If I had, maybe I could have prevented all of this.”

His tone is soft, full of regret, and it tugs at my heart the way I fucking knew it would. All those intrinsic motivations to comfort and care for him come flooding back. The overwhelming urge to fall into his arms and forgive him—beg to put this all behind us—rushes through me.

But I can’t do that. I…I fucking can’t. Instead of turning to comfort and care, I chooserage.

“Why didn’t you talk to me, though? What did I do to make you think you couldn’t? I don’t understand. We never kept secrets, never had a problem we didn’t work through together. We were a team.”Or at least, I thought we were.My voice gets louder with every word. I don’t mean to yell, but I can’t help it. I’m still so damn angry

“You’re right.” His shoulder lifts and his head shakes like he’s trying to come up with what to say. “I was spiraling so badly. I can’t even pinpoint when it started. I was fine one day, then the next a switch flipped. Leaving home, leaving you, starting over in another state, everything that was expected of me… I don’t know, it all built up and I panicked.” He pauses again, that watery blue stare coming back to mine. “I’m not making excuses for myself, but I want you to understand where it all came from. This was never about you or us. This wasn’t because of something you did or didn’t do. You were fucking… Christ,Wyatt, you were—are—perfect. Our friendship, our relationship, what we had… it was everything to me. I just lost sight of it, and that’s all on me.”

I stand there, quaking as I take in his words. I never realized how badly I needed that clarity until now. So much of my time that first year without him was wrapped up in me trying to understand what I did wrong. How did I push him to leave me high and dry? What did I do to make him not want me anymore? Why couldn’t he just open up to me?

And then the most heart-shattering thought…

He could have taken me with him.

I don’t admit any of that, though, my stubbornness rising once again. Instead, I suck in a sharp breath and steel my resolve, pulling my shoulders back and holding my head high with some fucking dignity.

“Thank you for telling me, but it still doesn’t change what happened,” I tell him, expecting there to be some kind of fight because this is Paxton, after all.

So, it really surprises me when all he does is agree. “I know that. Nothing will change it, but I still needed to say it. Get it out there so you know where my head was back then.”

We fall silent once more, and I don’t know what else there is to say. The emotion between us is heavy, and as much as I wish his words were the cure to all our problems, they aren’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be able to forgive him. He really fucking hurt me, but… it'ssomething.

“I’m not expecting anything,” he says, as if reading my mind.

“Then what do you want? What do you gain from all of this?” My words come out a little gruffer than intended, unable to hide my skepticism.

“I just want you not to hate me.” He’s smiling, but the shaky vibrato in his tone gives him away.

“I don’t hate you, Paxton,” I concede, not wanting to hurt him. I never want to hurt him. “I hated what you did to me, but those are two different things.”

“Fair enough, and if it’s any consolation, I hate what I did, too.”

“Good.”

He does a slow circle, and I recognize the behavior. He’s antsy. There’s something else on his mind, but he’s not sure how to say it. “I’d also like to be able to see you— talk to you without there being so much tension,” he blurts out, spinning to look at me. “I know my being here isn’t easy, but I’m not leaving anytime soon, and I don’t want it to be how it has been. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but maybe one day we can rebuild the friendship we once had?” He’s pleading, tone hopeful, and God, it would be so easy to just let it all go. To be his friend and find some semblance of happiness again.

But he broke me,so fucking badly, and I can’t just let that go. If he really wants me to forgive him, he’s going to have to put in some effort and show me that he actually cares.

“Maybe we can be cordial, but…” I trail off because I’m battling with myself more than I thought I would be. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“I get it. I do, and I appreciate the fact that you’re even willing to try.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, shifting from side to side. “I will do everything I can to prove to you how much I want you to be a part of my life—in any way I can have you.”

---