“I’ve missed you,” I blurted against my better judgment.
That easygoing manner he just had about himself? Gone. The second I opened my goddamn mouth, I killed the mood.
His gaze met mine, harsh but not accusatory. “Why did you pretend you didn’t remember me if you missed us so much?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It was the only thing I could think of.”
He shook his head, confused. “Think of for what?”
The response was not straightforward, or maybe I didn’t want to answer that question. Was acknowledging I lied not enough?
“I can’t explain it.”
Alex’s jaw clenched, yet I found his lack of shock at my silence insulting. It was almost like he never believed I’d fully share at all. “You meant everything to me, but then you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And then you didn’t stop there; you came back and acted like I was forgettable.”
My gaze fell, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are,” he whispered, more to himself than me. “And… I want to forgive you so badly. If there’s anything these past couple of months have taught me, it’s that I need River Moore in my life.”
I need Alex Pierce in my life.
Every action I made had a reason when it came to him. Whether or not it was logical, my gut said it was the best choice, and I trusted it.
Like right now, I should have told Alex exactly why our friendship ended the way it did.
But my gut was screaming, warning me that it was the wrong choice in the long run. There were too many reasons that could blow up in my face.
So, again, the words couldn’t come out.
I intertwined our fingers. “I would if I could, but I can’t.”
“Tell me why,” he stated firmly.
“I can’t.”
“I deserve to know.”
He was right. “I don’t think it would be fair to you if?—”
“If you won’t tell me why, then you need to leave me alone.”
His soft, warm hand broke free from mine and rested firmly on his lap. I instinctively wanted to reach for it, to ease the chill that had replaced the warmth of his hand, but I refrained.
“I don’t need the stress,” he muttered. Alex tugged at his hair, and again, I had to stop myself from touching him.
“Telling you will add stress,” I maintained. “It’s gonna hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me.”
His disapproving gaze, as if he’d lost all hope in me, burned inside me. I rose to my feet, still torn between speaking honestly and remaining silent.
Alex didn’t understand. I could not be the reason that his relationship with his parents took a turn for the worse. Though they were controlling, they weren’t so bad that they deserved their son to turn against them.
Besides, I proved his parents’ theory right.
When they told me that my “chaos” caused his seizures, I didn’t believe them. To Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, I was too much of a wild card and all over the place for their angel of a son.
But they were at least somewhat right. Stress was a trigger for his seizures, and I had a habit of bringing that. It was confirmed in my head when he had his first seizure inyearsafter I reappeared in his life. Dammit, I hated when adults were right.
