At first, my brain can’t register what I’m seeing, but as I near the railing, there’s no mistaking her. She stands on the flat roof of the boathouse like a statue, arms at her sides, hair cascading down her back.
With my heart in my throat, I watch as she approaches the edge.
THE CHEATER
You know what? I’m fucking pissed now. And I’m sick and tired of you constantly calling me a cheater like I’m the worst person on the fucking planet. I’m not going to apologize for this shit anymore, especially when YOU basically pushed me into doing what I did.
You act like you’re so above everything, Blake. You’re so calm and collected and sarcastic, like nothing ever fucking touches you. I never knew what you were thinking. Ever. Being with you felt like I was constantly trying to impress someone that can never be impressed.
So yeah, I messed up but don’t act shocked, because YOU made it easy to look somewhere else. I’m a passionate guy. I just wanted some fucking passion. So I had to go and find that fire somewhere else.
I’m not saying it was all bad. It was really, really good at times. You felt like my safe place, like you were this steady thing in my life and I wanted that.
But I also wanted you to look at me like I was the most exciting guy in the world. I always felt like I was chasing some version of myself you might actually care about, but you never cared about making me feel wanted. You never let me in and you were never really there with me. So maybe think about that before you decide I’m the only one who ruined this.
Chapter 21
WYATT
BY THE TIME I REACH the dock, I’m already half running. The boards groan under my weight. I stand at the bottom, staring up at her. The moon carves silver edges into everything. The roof, the lake, the defiant hardness of her features.
“Blake,” I snap. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Facing my phobia.” Her voice floats toward me from the roof.
My jaw clenches. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s almost midnight. Get down. Now.”
“Why?”
“Jesus Christ. This isn’t a joke. It’s late. Get down here.”
She seeks out my eyes in the moonlight. “I chickened out that day with Annaliese and her friends. I should’ve jumped.”
“Great. You can jump in the morning.”
“What’s the big deal? You and the Golden Boys jump off at night all the time.”
“Yes, because we’re damn idiots. Youare not. It’s pitch-black, and you can’t see the bottom. This is reckless. Actually, no, it’sirresponsible.”
“Fine, then I’m irresponsible. And why do you care anyway? We’ve already established you’re not my dad. You’re not even my friend most days. You hover and scowl and act like I’m some dumb teenager.”
“I’m just trying to keep you from doing something stupid.”
“Maybe I want to do something stupid,” she shoots back. “Maybe I’m tired of everyone assuming I won’t. That I’ve got nopassion.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Frustration tightens like a vise at my ribs, but something beneath it burns hotter, more dangerous.
Fear.
And not just the kind that comes with watching someone you care about do something reckless. It’s the fear of losingher.
And that fear makes me angry, because I hate feeling it.
“What, you’re up there because you have something to prove? Why? Because you wanted to kiss me last night and I wouldn’t do it?”
She flinches but doesn’t back down. “Screw you, Wyatt. You wanted it.”
