“I fucked up back then.” I didn’t need clarification to know whatback thenreferred to. There was only one time in our lives he could possibly mean. “And I’d like to make things right.”
“How exactly?” I asked. My voice shook, and annoyance mixed with something far more dangerous—hope.
“Maybe we start by letting this animosity between us go. And then, maybe, you let me take you out to dinner.”
I’d been lying if I said I hadn’t spent a number of years wishing for this exact moment. That I hadn’t spent hours daydreaming about what it would be like if we tried again.
Unfortunately, now that my fantasy was playing out, the balloon of hope welling in my chest deflated as quickly as it had expanded.
This had nothing to do with us or wanting to make things right, wanting to fix the mistakes of our younger selves.
“I’m sorry, but no.”
The hardest four words I’d ever had to say.
Lane frowned. “What do you mean, no? I thought?—”
“There’s this phenomenon that occurs between first responders and victims. Thanks to the intensity and the high stress levels, it’s common to experience extreme gratitude thatmanifests as romantic interest,” I explained, quickly and flatly. “That’s all this is, Lane.”
He snorted. “You do realize I’m a first responder too, right? I’m familiar with thephenomenon, and I can assure you that’s not what’s happening here.”
I rolled my eyes, surprised to find anger heating my blood.
Good. That was better than the sensation of being stabbed in the heart.
“So what, you woke up from your coma and suddenly decided you wanted to give us another chance? After fifteen years? Are youhigh?”
“These drugs are good, but they’re notthatgood, sunny.”
I gasped; I couldn’t help it.
That nickname.
I hadn’t heard it in ages, not for nearly sixteen years.
“Don’t call me that,” I whispered.
“Why not?” he asked, oblivious to my panic in his altered state.
“We…that’s not who we are to each other anymore, Lane.”
“But I thought…” He trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they seemed to be brighter, closer to their normal shade. “Never mind. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t, though. None of this was okay. Only a few feet separated us, but it may as well have been miles.
The air in the room instantly became oppressive, bearing down on me until I could no longer stand it. With an awkwardly murmured goodbye, I made my escape.
five
. . .
LANE
I fucking hated being an invalid—almostas much as I hated being a newly thirty-six-year-old man living with mymother.
“Mama,” I said, exasperated, as I took in the impressive feast she was preparing. “This is completely unnecessary.”
