“I said something to her after,” I admit, voice low.
Beck waits.
I swallow hard, the words tasting like rust. “I told her…that no one wants a desperate girl.”
Beck’s face stills.
I keep going, because if I stop, I’ll back out. “I said it like she was embarrassing. Like she was putting on a show. Like she needed to be…louder and prettier and more dramatic to get people to look at her.”
Beck’s jaw clenches. “Jesus, man.”
“I know,” I mutter. Shame crawls up my neck. “I was jealous. And instead of owning it, I made it her problem. I made her feel small for doing something stupid at a party—like we weren’t all doing stupid shit at that party.”
Beck stares at me for a beat, then exhales slowly. “And you never apologized.”
I shake my head once.
Beck’s expression turns hard. “Why?”
Because apologizing would mean admitting I cared.
Because caring about my best friend’s little sister feels like stepping onto a landmine.
Because the Rhodes family saved me, and I’ve been terrified of being the reason anything cracks.
“Because I was scared,” I admit finally. “Iamscared.”
Beck’s face softens a fraction—just enough to show he understands. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I get scared too.”
I swallow, eyes still locked on Sloane.
“She doesn’t owe me anything,” I add, roughly. “And I don’t get to show up now like I’m some…hero, just because I finally grew a conscience.”
Beck’s mouth twitches. “No one said hero.”
“Feels like that’s what it would look like,” I mutter.
Beck shakes his head. “It would look like accountability.”
I scoff. “Same difference when you’re standing in a backyard watching her get walked away by another guy.”
Beck turns his head slightly. “Speaking of—are you going to do something?”
I hesitate.
The truth is ugly: part of me wants to storm over there, claim her attention, prove to myself I still can. Would she have chosen me back then, or would I have made a complete fool of myself? But would she choose me now? Especially now that I don’t know what my future holds.
Another part of me—older, smarter, terrified—wants to let her go because she deserves peace more than she deserves me. I’ve never thought I was good enough for her, and maybe this is just another moment where that proves to be true.
Before Beck can push again, a familiar voice cuts in, sharp and amused.
“This is painful.”
I turn.
Sophie stands there with her arms crossed, expression unimpressed, like she’s watching a slow-motion car crash she predicted ten minutes ago.
She isn’t just Beck’s girlfriend.
