Lucas is a good guy, he likes to pretend like he’s all high and mighty, that he doesn’t give a fuck about what people have to say or what they think, but on the inside, he’s a really good guy.
He has feelings, he has emotions, he’s a fucking human.
Everyone makes mistakes.
“There’s more to this than just you wanting to apologize.”
He stares at me, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, or trying to figure out me. “I’m not really good at this whole ‘friends with girls’ thing, Claire I and were always more, and Steph is a friend, but we’re really not all that close.”
Call me dumb, but I’m really confused as to where this is going.
He can read that on my face.
“I want to be friends, Sasha, and I really can’t be friendswith you if I don’t at least try to talk all this out and make it better.”
I sit with that for a minute.
He wants to make it better, even though —in my mind at least— everything had been resolved the second he said he was sorry.
Is that because I know the apology was genuine? Or because I’ve been taught to accept the apology and expect nothing more?
Thinking back to my friendship with Nathan, I realize that he never really offered me anything more than an apology. It was always half-baked, quick and quiet, and then we would move on.
The thought that people genuinely want to figure out problems and resolve them seems kind of…oddto me.
“Lu, wearefriends. We’ve been friends since you gave me a beer on your porch step.” I shove my plate to the side, offering him my hands and when he hesitates, I grab his and hold them tight. “I’m still trying to figure out where I fit in this world, and how to handle everything that happened with my brother, but you guys have made my life infinitely better since I met you.”
“So you aren’t mad?”
“Dude, you’re supposed to be the one who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings. We’re good, I promise.”
Lucas St. James is a weird dude.
twenty-three
DAVIS
I haven’t heard from Sasha all day.
My text wishing her a happy birthday lies unanswered, that stupiddeliverednotification is driving me absolutely insane.
But I don’t want to push.
I can’t push, not ever, but definitely not today.
She has to pull herself out of this. I can’t do anything to help her if she doesn’t want it. So until she gives me that opportunity, I’ll be here, waiting to run to her the second she lets me.
I toss my phone on the table in our living room, groaning while Lucas and Blair play against each other in a new game. Miller and August sit on the couch next to them while Claire and Steph whisper to one another in the kitchen.
“Is she going to be okay?” Miller plays with the frayed edges of a blanket.
Will she?
“She’s celebrating her birthday for the first time without her brother, of course she’s not okay,” August bites back.
Her brother, his death, her trauma, none of it is a secret anymore. Every single person in this room knows the truth, which means every one of them is also worried about her.
We don’t have to celebrate today if she doesn’t want to, but she shouldn’t be alone.
