Grant looked at the fire. At his friends. At the empty beer bottle in his hands.
"What if I already ruined it?" he asked quietly. "What if she doesn't want to talk to me after last night?"
"Then you'll deal with that," Chris said. "But I don't think that's what's going to happen. I think Riley came to your barn last night to tell you something important, and you shut her down. I think she's probably sitting at her parents' house right now feeling just as shitty as you do."
"And I think," Ryan added, "that if you actually love this girl—and we all know you do, fake dating or not—then you owe it to both of you to have an actual conversation. Not a fight. Not you telling her you need space. An actual conversation where youboth get to talk. Because you getting space is terrible. For all of us." Ryan laughed a little.
Grant was quiet for a long moment.
He'd told Riley he needed space. He'd cut her off every time she tried to explain. He'd thrown their relationship back in her face and called it fake when he knew—knew—it hadn't been fake for him in weeks.
Maybe months.
Maybe never.
"I told her it was all fake," Grant said. "I said we both knew it wasn't real and that I was stupid for letting it get carried away."
"Ouch," Mark muttered.
"Yeah." Grant's voice was rough. "I was hurt and angry and I wanted her to hurt too. So I said the thing I knew would hurt the most."
"And how do you feel about that now?" Ryan asked.
"Like an asshole."
"Good. That's step one." Ryan leaned forward. "Step two is figuring out what you're going to say when you actually talk to her."
"I don't know what to say."
"Start with sorry," Chris suggested. "And then move on to 'I should have let you talk.' And then see where it goes from there."
"What if she doesn't forgive me?"
"What if she does?" Mark countered. "You won't know unless you try."
Grant picked at the label on his beer bottle, his mind spinning.
Riley had been trying to tell him something important. About her job. About something she'd done.
And he'd shut her down. Refused to listen. Told her he didn't want to hear it.
What if it had been important? What if she'd been trying to explain something that would have changed everything?
And now she probably thought he didn't care. That he'd meant it when he said it was all fake. That he wanted nothing to do with her.
"I need to talk to her," Grant said.
"Yeah, you do," Ryan agreed. "But not tonight. Tonight you're wound so tight you might snap. Give yourself one more night. Drink some beers. Hang out. Throw shit in the fire. Then… Get some sleep. Get your head straight. And then tomorrow you go find her and you actually listen to what she has to say."
Grant wanted to argue. Wanted to leave right now and drive to Riley's parents' house and fix this.
But Ryan was right. He was exhausted and angry and hurt, and he needed to calm down before he had this conversation. He needed to figure out what he actually wanted to say.
He needed to give Riley the space to say what she'd been trying to tell him all along.
"Okay," Grant said finally. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Mark confirmed. "But tonight, you're staying here. Drinking beer. Letting us distract you with stupid stories and terrible jokes."
