She swallows and then raises her chin before saying, “I know, but I just need you to listen. Please.”
The broken tone of her voice as she looks at me renders me speechless. I should tell her no, that I don’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, I stay silent, and let her continue.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. The article you read wasn’t the one that was meant to be published, but I did write those things, I won’t lie about that. When I found out you knew I wasClickTeaseI was angry and overwhelmed, and when that happens, I journal. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, and it helps me to work through my thoughts and feelings so I can process everything without lashing out. Usually, I destroy the journals when they’re full, but the one I wrote about you… I’d run out of journal space so it was on my computer and I saved it. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I was drunk and put the document in the wrong folder.”
Fuck, part of me wants to latch onto this explanation and accept it so we can just move on. I’m yearning to grab her and hold her and put this behind us, but I resist and keep my walls up. I’m not going to give in. Not this time. I remind myself of all the times I let myself be walked all over, taken for granted, or hurt. Not just with Rylee, but every woman before her. It’s only ever left me heartbroken and alone, and I can’t let this keep happening to me. I need to prioritize my happiness and wellbeing for once.
“I went back to Nashville and found out that one of my co-workers is seeing my ex, and she got her hands on my journal entry and submitted it to my boss, under my name.”
Her voice wavers and she pauses. I watch as she looks away and clenches her jaw, clearly fighting down a burst of anger. Sucking in a deep breath, she lets it out slowly and speaks in a calmer, more even tone. I stay silent.
“That doesn’t really matter in the end,” she continues, “because the truth is I still wrote what I wrote, and even if it was never meant to be read by anyone else, completely not true and written in a moment of weakness, it was still hurtful. I should’ve deleted it instead of saving it, and if I had, none of this would’ve ever happened.”
I furrow my brows. It’s a somewhat understandable story she’s telling, but I resist the urge to forgive her so easily. She shouldn’t have written it in the first place. Plus, that article has had a bigger effect than just tarnishing my name, and she hasn’t even mentioned that. Hasn’t acknowledged just how much damage this has done. That’s just another jab that has me nearly flinching in pain.
“I… I really am sorry,” she mutters. “And I want nothing more than your forgiveness, but I don’t expect you to give it to me. What I did was unforgivable. I wanted to let you know, that I know, I need to work on myself. I need to stop running from my problems, and I plan on doing that. In fact, um, I’m going to go spend Christmas in Ireland with my dad. I didn’t want to leave, without thanking you for everything you’ve done for me. For fighting for me - for us - even when I didn’t deserve it. You're an amazing guy Zander, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
Blinking, I tense as she steps closer to me, and don’t move as she pushes onto her tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Good bye,” she whispers, her voice wavering.
Fuck… I don’t know if I can forgive her, but for her to show up on my doorstep and tell me everything that happened is huge. Also for her to recognize that she needs to work on herself and deal with her problems head on is really incredible.
She needs time to do all this, I know, but the question is whether or not I’ll be there when she comes out on the other side. Can I be there? Do I even want to be there?
I’m just not sure yet.
I guess I need more time, too.
We stare at each other for several long moments, neither of us saying a word. Then, she darts around me and hurries down the sidewalk toward a car parked at the end of the block.
I watch her go, part of me wanting to run after her, but I hold myself back. Instead, I turn and make my way inside the building, feeling more torn up than before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: JADE
ZANDER
Later that evening,I do end up making my way out to the bar, where the rest of the guys are meeting me after I called them to ask if I could vent. I don’t want to be home anymore, alone and miserable while I think about Rylee and how angry I am with her, while also missing the shit out of her.
When I arrive, Jensen, Carson, Owen, Wilder, and Jayce are already here, sitting around a table in the far corner with beers in front of them. They’re such a good crew — dropping everything to meet up this way. They spot me and wave me over and I cross the room to join them.
“Hey,” I say, pulling out the only chair left and dropping down into it.
“Hey, man,” Jensen replies, a sympathetic glint in his eye. “How are you doing?”
“Grand,” I snort. “Why wouldn’t I be? The woman I was falling for put out a hit piece on me for the entire fucking world to read.”
The guys all exchange uncertain looks.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad… right?” Carson asks. I shoot him a glare.
Owen sighs before locking his gaze with mine. “Really. How are you, man?”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and shake my head.
“I’m not doing good,” I confess at length. “Not at all. Rylee was at my building earlier today and told me how sorry she was and explained how the article got published the way it did. One of her co-workers and her ex had it out for her and tried to fuck her over. Still, she owned the fact that she wrote it, and then said she was leaving for Ireland to visit her dad and work on herself.”
Jayce lets out a long whistle. “Damn, that’s a lot. So the article was a setup?”
