But could that even be?
Fuck, I’m such a fucking asshole.
It’s clear she’s hurting, and it tears me apart to see her like this.
All my fault.
I push myself harder, closing the gap between us. I need to reach her to ensure she’s okay, even if I have no idea what to say or do. I just can’t stand by and watch her suffer any longer.
As we reach the end of the boardwalk again, Sloan slows, her breath ragged when she bends almost in half, starting to cough.
She pushed herself too hard.
Because of me.
She’s not wrong. She deserves so much better—better than me.
But I’m a selfish prick, and I can’t fucking live without her anymore.
Even if it’s hurting both of us.
I finally catch up to her, pulling out my headphones and letting them hang around my neck. “Blue,” I try to keep myself from reaching out for her, my voice gentle but filled with concern. “You okay? Should I drive you home?”
She stands straight again and looks at me with a mix of hurt and anger. “Home,” she spits sarcastically as if there’s no such thing for her.
You can have mine. I’d give you all I have.
She glances to her right, nods slightly, and turns to leave me standing there without another word.
Doyou hate or love me? Decide already, Thundercunt.
Walking back to my van, my head is spinning from the encounter with North. I’m so confused about him, about what he wants from me.
It’s like he tried to watch out for me, but I can’t quite figure out his intentions. Maybe he’s just feeling guilty, and this is his way of making amends. It’s a little stalkerish, but that doesn’t surprise me.
It’s North, after all.
Maybe he genuinely cares. He told me he did before everything went down.
Their intentions and so-called apologies are all so overwhelming. I have no idea what to think.
Saylor is silent as we walk before he finally brings me out of my thoughts, his voice warm and reassuring, “Looks like North is torn up about what happened. Maybe he genuinely wants to make things right. People can change, you know.”
I huff in frustration. “He called me a gold-digging, crazy whore.”
Saylor cringes at the reminder. “True.”
“I just know that following me like a psycho isn’t going to make things right,” I say in a softer tone.
But I can’t tell what would either.
“True again, and I’m not saying it’s enough. I’m just saying I can see that he cares, which is something I haven’t seen in a very long while.”
All I feel is drained right now, and I can’t escape the feeling that things are about to get even more complicated. As we approach the van, an envelope tucked under the windshield wipers catches my eye.
Oh please, don’t be a parking ticket.
I have absolutely no money to spare for that.
