Damn it. That guts me more than anything else.
I'm tempted to touch him again, but I know he won't let me, so the tears burn in my eyes, spill before I know it, running down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "For what I just did to you. I hate myself for it. So much. Are you okay?"
He turns when he hears me crying, his nostrils flaring, but at least he's with me again. I hope he will say something, but his face stays locked, just watching me wipe my tears away.
"And I'm sorry for three years ago," I add. "For how I handled it. I wanted to call you so bad. So many times, but I was scared. You asked if I thought about you—how could I not, when you were my best friend, my—" My throat catches and I swallow the rest. I can't tell him what he means to me, when I don't even know how to word it. I take a deep breath. "My pointis that I'm sorry, for hurting you."
When I finish, he goes still, completely struck, not even blinking.
For what feels like a long time, he doesn't say anything, and now I feel like an idiot for blurting it all out.
At least I didn't tell him the whole truth.
Finally, he nods, but still looks like my apology scrambled his system.
"Thanks," he says, and starts brushing sand from his feet. Like that's what matters now. Like that's all.
Seriously?
I bite my lip, trying to prevent myself from saying the next thing, but since we're at honesty, something's been stuck in my throat for too long. It's now or never.
"You know, you should apologize too," I say, my voice barely audible.
Ben turns to me with his brow cocked, like he's weighing whether I'm serious or angling for another fight.
"And what exactly should I apologize for? Saving you from dying? From your brilliant ideas?" he says bitterly.
I try my best not to flinch and shake my head, holding his gaze. "No. Because... you hurt me too."
The second it's out, all color drains from his face. He snaps his eyes shut like shutters, hiding whatever's behind them and drags in a long breath.
Then he opens them again and looks at me, despondent.
"I'm sorry, Emma. Really," he says, voice low. "I realized too late. Trust me, hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted."
I stare at him, speechless, because for all his bluster, Ben's never this raw and unarmored.
So I inch closer, nudge his shoulder lightly. "Hey, it's okay. I know you didn't," I say, and he hisses through his teeth when I touch him.
"Oh. Sorry!" My hands fly to his shoulder, but he smirks, clearly milking it. I'm tempted to hit him now. "Hey! You said it didn't hurt."
"I didn't say that." His smile grows, a little roughed up. "I said it'sfine."
I roll my eyes and try to examine his shoulder now that he lets me in again. It's not as bad as it appeared at first, just a deep scratch. I press lightly around it, even though that's not going to help much.
Ben turns and sweeps his eyes over me. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I lie automatically. My chest screams, but luckily, he can't see it because I'm under his jacket. "Just ashamed. The usual."
His eyes are inspecting, slowly dragging up and down before they land on my bare legs, lingering there and his voice drops. "Let me see."
I blink. "No, really, I'm fine," I protest, eyes dropping low on the blanket.
"Let me see," he repeats, soft but commanding now. "I need to know you didn't crack a rib."
He doesn't wait for my permission, just slips his fingers under the jacket and pushes it off my shoulders.
