“About what?”
“Why you’re so jacked. I was sure you were something scary like a hit man or a gravedigger. But between two jobs and all the macros you must be counting—”
“I don’t do that.” He looks offended.
I laugh and turn my head to the side. I drop the teasing lilt and drag my spoon through oatmeal. “I’m surprised you and Gabbi are so close,” I say, trying to keep the conversation in neutral territory andnoton his muscles.
He scoffs. “You made that clear when you told her I’m an inconsiderate asshole.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I cast West as the villain in my life so long ago, it’s difficult to accept that without a time machine, he could be anything else.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re one of the good guys, but you make exceptions for me.”
West sets his fork down and pushes his plate out of the way as he leans toward me. His gaze is piercing. “Is there a world in which you forgive me? Ever?” he asks in a voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“This is a pointless conversation.”
A muscle in his jaw works. “You’re telling me there’s nothing I can do to fix things between us?”
The oatmeal turns to sludge in my stomach. “Correct.”
He drums his fingers on the table as he stares at me, his expression scrutinizing. “Give me your worst.”
“What do you mean?” My voice wobbles.
He waves his hand for me to get on with it. “I’m serious, Mars. Get it all out of your system. All the scathing words you’ve written in your head over the last decade. I want it all on the record.”
“Why?”
“I need to know what I’m up against.”
I close my eyes and take a breath. It doesn’t matter what he says now, because it can’t change the fact that he never loved me the way I loved him, and all it ever got me was pain. I don’t hate myself enough to try to make it work for a third time.
“Nothing we had is worth salvaging, West.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“What am I supposed to think? You see me for a few days and get lost in college memories and think you want something more, but we’ve been here before. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this dance!”
He folds his arms, his eyes narrowing. “This is different.I’mdifferent now,” he insists.
“Do you still have that interview scheduled for today?”
“Yes.”
“If you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t.” I don’t bother to hide the thickness in my throat as tears burn my eyes. I push back from the table and grab my phone from the charger, quickly requesting an Uber.
West pushes to his feet with a pained expression. “I’m trying to fix this, Mars, but I need a little more time to show you. Give me time,” he pleads.
“You had a decade! A decade in which you did not show up, did not care, and pushed me away every chance you got. Time’s up, West. It’s too late.”
28
7 Years Ago
Fox Caldwell isthe internet’s favorite book boyfriend, and I have no one but myself to blame. I’ve created my own personal hell. The fact that I based him on an ex-boyfriend becomes a fandom fixation; I get comments every week asking who he is.
I thoughtTorchedwas popular, but the sequel exploded to a degree I couldn’t have fathomed. Book sales are in the millions. Fox fever is sweeping the nation. Multicolored contacts are flying off shelves.
