“Look, don’t be mad, okay?”
My eyes roll toward the popcorn ceiling. “I fucking hate when people start sentences like that.”
Beth blows out a deep exhale. “I had coffee with Brian.”
She is right—I don’t fucking like it, and I am definitely mad. “’The fuck, Bea?” I try not to growl.
Beth launches into her mile-a-minute ramblings about Falco just wanting to talk, and his supposed apologies. She says he invoked the age-old excuse of youthful stupidity, and swore his unending regret for making such a monumental mistake.
But it wasn’t a mistake. It was his mistake. And he doesn’t get to take it back. He doesn’t get another chance. We all have to make choices, and I made mine years ago, and accepted what that meant, but in the end Falco made his, too. And yeah, I had my part in it, but I was looking out for her.
I thought I was looking out for her.
But even as I think it, my gut rolls with dread at the old fear that Falco could blow up my spot. He has no real reason not to, and Beth may not see things from my perspective. Not for the first time, I think I should just tell her myself. But I am a fucking coward.
“David, please don’t be mad,” Beth pleads, her eyes lined in worry.
She cares what I think. I need to remember that. Because there’s power in it, and I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to influencing the lives of others.
“I don’t want you seeing him.” Or not.
Beth’s eyes narrow. “It’s not your choice to make, David.”
Well, fuck.
I grit my teeth, swallowing down all the things I know better than to say. I have to trust she already knows them all—remind myself she isn’t a kid anymore. “You’re giving him another chance?” My voice is low and toneless.
Surprise widens her eyes and her mouth gapes slightly. “What?”
I don’t speak. She heard the question, and her hesitation makes me take whatever her response is with a grain of wound-stinging salt.
“No, David. I’m not interested in him like that anymore. He burned that bridge a long time ago.”
My eyebrow arches all on its own.
“Okay, fine,” she concedes. “He strung it up with dynamite, lit the fuse, and walked away without a backward glance. Happy?”
I exhale the tension coiling my muscles, glancing down at my socked feet for a moment to compose myself. Beth waits for me to meet her gaze again, eyes wide and expectant. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” I admit.
There’s that small smile. “I know.”
I nod reluctantly. “Are you gonna see him again?”
Beth shrugs, her oversized v-neck slipping off her pale, delicate shoulder. I don’t know why I find it so goddamned sexy, and I hold my breath until she unconsciously fixes it. “I told him I would consider a friendship.”
I bite my tongue. I literally hold it between my teeth to keep the words in.
“I know,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve my friendship.”
Damn fucking straight.
“But I don’t want to punish him, David. It took me a long time to get over Brian, but I did get over him. The love, if that’s really what it ever was—it’s gone. But so is the hate, the resentment…all of it, you know? And now? Honestly? I’m kind of indifferent.” She shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pursued a friendship with him. But he’s here, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t know him.” Another shrug. “It is what it is.”
With a sigh of surrender, I let it go. I don’t want to think about Brian-fucking-Falco. I don’t want him here with us, in my goddamned apartment.
Beth says she’s tired, so I show her where the towels are, but she waves me off. She uses the bathroom while I make up the couch.
“Are you sure about this, David? I’m really fine sleeping on the couch.”
