I stare at the screen as a deep ache plunges into the center of my chest. Because I already know the answer. I already know that I can’t go. I won’t show. Yes, I drove out here, and yes, I’ve done everything in my power to look possibly the best I’ve looked in my entire life, but I just don’t have what it takes to burst through that gate all by myself while inwardly knowing that Kai may not come.
Suddenly a massive thump pounds at the car’s window.
I jump in the seat and press a hand to my heart since it feels as if it’s trying to escape me. For a moment, I worry that I’ll see a security guard standing there, telling me that I’m not able to park in this area. It’s a restricted stretch of road next to the school where Kai and I used to park to avoid getting stuck in the big school crowd.
But it’s not a security guard at all. It’s a gorgeous guy with buff shoulders and brown eyes that makes me melt every time I see him.
“Kai?” I roll the window down. The air conditioning tosses strands of hair into my face.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Sure.” I reach for the lever and unlock it.
Kai hurries into the passenger seat, and all I can do is stare and blink and wonder what on earth is going through his mind. I’m thrilled and terrified all at once.
He reaches up, catches a flying strand of hair, and tucks it behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.
He is? I watch, stunned as he proceeds to turn down the AC and then tap down the volume of the live show on my phone.
“I’ve been thinking about how scary that time must have been for you, and I can only imagine what was going through your mind.”
I stare at him some more, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is what I wanted from him last week. Why couldn’t he have given it to me then and saved us all this trouble?
Probably because he doesn’t want a future with me. Sure, he’s sorry, and he wants to be on good terms, but that doesn’t mean he wants me back.
“Thank you,” I say, allowing his words, his sincere acknowledgment to pour healing over the old wounds. Wounds that are fresh once again.
Kai squares a look at me, his expression shifting to one of…anticipation? Yes, he expects me to return the sentiment.
“I’m sorry too,” I blurt, hoping that’ll be enough. Itshouldbe. After all, Kai hasn’t said heshouldn’thave left me, only that he’s sorry for what I went through.
I leave it there, wondering if it’s enough. Wondering where he wants things to go from here. Wondering even more as, in the low light, his eyes turn pleading.
“I need you to acknowledge that wecouldhave made things work,” he says. “I need you to fess up to your part in this or…or we can’t move on.”
What doesmove oneven look like—being cordial to one another? Is that why he wants to do this in private rather than make a scene on live TV where everyone expects us to get back together?
I replay his words in my mind. “You want me to acknowledge that thingscouldhave worked out, despite the fact that you chose to leave when youcouldhave stayed until law school.”
“Yes.”
I’m not sure what this was all about. Is he baiting me in some way? Will he use this to run onto the field and tell all of America that I admitted it was my fault? All so he can become one of Marsha’s hottest new bachelors for the next reality TV show.
“Couldhave is very different fromwouldhave,” I point out.
“Why are you splitting hairs?” Kai’s voice is louder now. “There was no guarantee that it would have worked if I stayed, either. But instead of giving us a chance, you put the kibosh on the whole thing.”
My lips tighten into a hard line.
“Admit it,” he presses. “Please.”
My heart thunders so heavy and hard I think Kai might be able to hear it too. Why is this such a difficult thing? Surely it’d be worth admitting if it meant I could have Kai back. But I’m not sure that’s what it would mean at all.
“You told me something back on our first day in the house,” he says. “You told me how much it meant to you that Nate could leave and have that experience to go to another college. You’d sacrificed for him to have that chance.”
His brow furrows. His jaw goes hard. “Why wouldn’t you want me to have that type of experience too? Youknewhow hard my dad was on me. Youknewhow much I’d been dying to get out of there and have some space to breathe. And you knew how important it was for me to go to Stanford if I had the chance. I planned to support you in whatyoudid, whatever that was. You should have been able to support me too. Instead, you chose to just end it.”
My mind whirrs and sways.
