Reed groans like he’s in pain while he stares straight ahead, but he nods.
“I know you asked me not to, but I think I need you to tell me about him. At least the part that makes you despise him so much,” I say.
There’s a long, weighted pause where Reed studies the etchings on his cowboy boots before he asks, “Why hasn’t he told you himself?”
His question confuses me. I don’t have an answer for him. The past is one big secret with Miles, but every moment we share in the present is so nice that I don’t even care. I don’t pry. He doesn’t open up in the same way Reed does, and admitting that to Reed will look like I compare them. Which I don’t. I hope someday Miles will open up to me, but Reed has already proved he can.
“I don’t know why, but Ineedthis to move forward.”
Reed sighs then says, “We used to be best friends.”
I straighten. I didn’t expect for him to give in.
“Used to?” I ask.
He nods. “As a kid, Miles had everything I didn’t. A simple life, a close relationship with his father that I envied, and he lived right next door to the girl with the constellation of freckles I was sure mapped my future.”
Reed ghosts his lips in a heartbreaking half-smile.
“It helped that we got along so well. My brothers and I were”—he puffs out a laugh—“always in competition with each other. But with Miles…” His voice drops to a whisper like he’s about to tell me a secret. “He never tried to be better at something than I was.”
I fight a smirk. Even the Reed I’ve gotten to know would appreciate being the center of attention.
“At first, I thought the foundation of our friendship was fishing, but I soon realized the greatest thing we had in common was you.” He shrugs, and then looks down at his boots again, crossing them at the ankle.
He’s quiet for more than ten seconds, and I do what I’m best at—I spiral in the silence.
Am I supposed to say something?What comment could I possibly follow with that doesn’t just sound like a sympathetic friend. I mean, I AM a sympathetic friend. I can’t imagine my world orbiting the same person someone else lov?—
The thought dies in my head with the identical sensation I experienced while fishing with Miles the other day. That gamey smell drafted from the fish bait, and it was like it unlocked a door just out of reach in my brain. I close my eyes and extend that impression just a bit further, fighting to reach the memory. Trying to…
“We bonded over the fact that we missed you when you weren’t around,” he continues, and that figurative door bolts shut again. I try not to look frustrated, but I don’t have to try very hard when he meets my eyes and there’s a level of griefliving behind them. I instantly regret allowing my inner torment to get the best of me.
“When you started coming back every summer, it always took a little adjusting at first, like things do when two becomes three. For the first couple of summers, we were all so in sync that we never spent a moment apart. It was easy as kids. But then we became teenagers and boundaries started getting messier. The moments where three became two were harder to ignore.”
I nod. I’m right there with him. I’m feeling thatnow.There’s me and him, and there’s me and Miles. It’s beyond complicated.
“Deep down, I think I always knew Miles looked at you the same way I did, but I never wanted to admit that to myself. Doing so would mean you might choose him over me. I knew if that ever happened, I would be losing both of you, and the thought of sacrificing my two best friends was too much.”
No kidding, I want to say, because it’s feeling like he’s about to make me do the same.
“I’m sure Miles felt the same way, but I have no way of knowing for sure. We never talked about our feelings for you. They were just there… changing us.”
Tears prick my eyes with every word Reed utters. I hold them back though, afraid if I fall apart, I’ll never hear how this ends. Reed’s sole focus will become consoling me, and I need for him to finish.
“You guys can still be friends. We all can be,” I justify.
“We can’t just be your friend, Teddy. Don’t you see that? It’s impossible. People change, and I don’t know who to blame anymore.” There’s a note of frustration to his voice that I wish I could soothe.
“Yeah, people do change, but it doesn’t mean you have to let them go because of it,” I argue. “You can grow with them through it.”
Reed shakes his head. “It’s always going to be there between us, and we can’t survive it… watching who you choose. We tried it once before, and it’s what got us here, in the mess we’re in.”
I’m even more confused than before Reed started talking. I jump off the bed of his truck, which feels more like a fall, but I need to face him.
“You’re still not telling me what happened. I need to knowthe momentyour friendship fell apart.”
“I can’t do that. I’m sorry. That part is either for Miles to tell you or for you to remember.”
