“It had nothing to do with you,” he replies through clenched teeth. “It was just me being a dumb, drunk asshole who didn’t think beyond the next five seconds.”
“So your brilliant drunk logic was to blow up AJ’s relationship and your lifelong friendship? Because that’s what you’ve done.”
He tries to shift his gaze back to the water, but I grab his sleeve and force eye contact. The shame lining his features softens some of my anger.
“You need to fix this,” I say firmly.
“I know.” His voice cracks with guilt. “Stop looking at me like that. I hate what I did, okay?” Bleakly, he staggers to his feet.
“B—”
“Just leave me alone. I can’t do this right now. I already feel like shit, and I don’t need you making me feel worse.”
“Maybe you should feel worse,” I call after him. “Maybe you deserve to.”
He stops for half a second, shoulders tensing. But he doesn’t turn around. A moment later, he marches off, leaving me alone on the beach.
DAD CHAT
DEAN DI LAURENTIS
All right. Let’s have it. Go ahead, Connelly. Remove me from the chat.
JAKE CONNELLY
For what?
DEAN DI LAURENTIS
My kid stole your kid’s girl.
JAKE CONNELLY
Bro, he deserves a medal. Brenna and I have been praying for the downfall of Tara for two years. Can’t stand her.
DEAN DI LAURENTIS
Wait, so you’re not pissed?
JAKE CONNELLY
Nah. Tell Beau thanks.
DEAN DI LAURENTIS
See? This is how adults handle conflicts between their children.
Chapter 40
WYATT
I ASSUMED THAT THE DRAMATIC end of a Golden Boy friendship—something I never dreamed possible—would also mean the end of the dramatics for the day. But I was wrong.
I’m in bed later that night, once again fighting insomnia because I can’t sleep without Blake, when there’s a soft knock on my door. Seconds later, my dad pokes his head in.
“Get dressed and meet me on the pier.”
Huh?
