"If he wasn't my brother," she goes on, her voice steady but soft, "I'd tell you to forget him. Don't give him another chance. Because he doesn't deserve you. Not the way he hurt you."
She sighs, and I can feel her thumb pressing gently against my arm.
"But the truth is... he is my brother. And I know him better than anyone. Yeah, he can be stupid—dense as a brick, honestly—and sometimes, he never thinks before he opens his mouth. But he's not like those other guys, Care. He's not a piece of shit who'd play with you just to prove something. He would never hurt you. Not unless he was too blind to realize he was doing it."
I let out an exasperated sigh. "I know what I heard, Sam."
"I don't doubt that," she replies. "But don't you ever wonder if what you heard was the whole truth? If maybe... there's more to it than you realize?"
My brows twitch.Ugh, don't do this to me, Sam.
Because part of me knows she's right.I don't know the whole story. I don't want to know the whole story.
But another part of me—the reckless, stupid part—pauses anyway.What if there is more? What if I got it wrong?
Nope. Don't go there, Caroline. Don't you dare go there.
I can't let myself be that girl again. The girl who hands Zach Westbrook her heart on a silver platter, just so he can smash it to pieces.
"You and Zach have known each other your whole lives. You've been practically attached at the hip."
She pauses, letting that hang between us before continuing.
"Doesn't that kind of friendship deserve one more chance? At least enough of a chance to let him explain himself? To try and make things right?"
Her voice softens. "If you can't give him that chance for him... then do it for the eighteen years of friendship you two builttogether. That has to mean something. That has to count for something."
God, why does she have to make it sound so reasonable?
Her words sink in, no matter how much I want to shove them away.And that's the problem—I don't know if I want them to sink in or not.
I stay quiet. My mind's too busy spinning, reeling with every word she just dropped on me. It's like my brain is a pinball machine, her voice bouncing around.
"Go to the party tomorrow," she says gently. "Just... hear him out. Let him sit you down and tell you everything. Because I promise you—there's more to the story than what you heard. And knowing the full truth? It might not fix things, but it might finally give you the closure you need... that you both need."
Her words press against the walls I've built, and I hate how part of me wants to believe her.
"And if, after that, nothing changes for you?" she goes on. "If you still don't want to be his friend, if you still don't want him in your life—then tell him that. Make him understand that you've grown apart, that there's no way to go back to what you were before. It'll probably break his heart, but at least this time..." She trails off, eyes steady on mine.
I bite the inside of my cheek, still not trusting my voice.
"At least this time you'll know the truth. You'll know why he said what he said. And you won't be left wondering why."
Her words hang there, and for some reason, they sting more than I expect.
The thought slices deeper than I want to admit. Because for all the hurt, for all the ways he broke me... we were good once. Better than good.
He was my person. My best friend.
And yeah, I wanted more than that—I always wanted more—but even the friendship alone had been everything.
Is that really what I want? To never have that again?
My throat tightens. My chest aches. And before the tears can spill over, I snap my gaze back to Sam, glowering at her through the burn in my eyes.
Since when did she become all grown-up and wise? Where the hell is she pulling all this big-sister TED Talk wisdom from? She's younger than me, for crying out loud.
I blink fast, swallowing hard.
