“What do you want, Gray?”
I rub the back of my neck and begin to regret my impulsivity. She’s still mad, and she has every right to be. “I saw you on my way to the pool, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Can we—”
“No. I’m busy.”
“Okay.” I force myself to smile, swallowing down sadness. “Can you let me know when you’re ready to talk, Eddie? Please.”
At the nickname, a flash of something I can’t decipher flits over her face before snapping back to stone. She checks her watch before letting out a slow breath. “You’ve got one minute.”
This time my smile is real, because that’s all I need.
“I was wrong. Incredibly wrong. Stupidly wrong. Even though I wasn’t paying attention, it doesn’t excuse how I acted or spoke to you. I should have taken you home the moment you asked because there’s nothing more important to me than making sure you’re safe and happy. I promised I’d be there for you and ended up doing the exact opposite. It’s my number one priority, and I did a terrible job of showing you that the other day.”
When I made it back to my car that day, I realized I had grossly assumed something about Mallory. She’s nothing like my father. His controlling tendencies are manipulative, cunning, and egotistical.
She is none of those things. Not even close.
To call Mallory controlling is a disservice to the work she puts in.
“I have no idea how it feels to live with a chronic condition or the terrifying feeling of realizing that something you need to survive is missing. You’re not controlling. You’re so much more than that. In the best way possible. You’re diligent and driven. Cautious and careful. And I’m sorry, Eddie. It will never happen again.”
The wind dies abruptly when I finish, giving me the opportunity to hear her shock. It’s as if all the air is pushed out of her lungs, the exhale relaxing her entire body.
“You’re… sorry?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry that my feelings got hurt?” she asks, her voice pitching higher.
I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry that I acted poorly and hurt you. For being an idiot and not listening. For not being there for you.”
“You’re sorry.” This time it’s not a question. She actually believes me.
Her features take on the Mallory I missed over the past week. An eye roll replaces the apathetic glare and my favorite half-smile, half-scowl takes over her lips, as if she doesn’t know which to grace me with.
She’s back.
“Maybe I should run away more often if it leads to apologies.”
I take a step toward her, testing the waters. “Yeah right. Even you aren’t that petty.”
“You don’t think so?” Her laugh is light and airy, like the way I feel in this moment. “Is there anything else you want to apologize for while we’re here?” Mallory pushes a strong leg out, setting up like she’s ready to race. “If not, I’ll be going now.”
I freeze. This is it. My opportunity to finally bring up the silent agreement we made to play the game and nothing more. The chance to move into something more than rivals. I don’t know what exactly, but I’m certain I want so much more with Mallory Edwards.
I’m even more desperate to know if she does too.
“I’m kidding, Gray. There’s no need to open that can of worms. With our history, we would be standing out here all weekend. Apology accepted, but not needed.” Mallory shrugs, but I don’t miss the pained look in her eyes. “Plus, I’m the one who forgot my insulin. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”
“Apology accepted, but not needed,” I repeat back. “And I never want you to apologize for something so human. I forget things all the time.”
My cheeks burn as I look down at her, sorely lucky that she’s here right now, and even better, the half-scowl is gone. I’m getting arealMallory smile. One that’s not a byproduct of something Cade said or a successful win at a Brain Bowl point opportunity.
It’s because of me and for me.
“Hey, Kenneth. How are you?”
Mallory jumps at the new voice, and I force myself to look at her friend. “Hey, Jo. I’m doing much better now. You?”
