We will talk, though.
I just need to figure out what about.
“Will you tell me why you hate me?” The wordhatecoming from her mouth is hopeful. Like she wishes I hated her.
Anything but indifference, I guess.
For a long time, I wished for the same thing.
But where my soul has hardened against the pain, hers remains tender. Forgiveness radiates through everything she does. Through her soft expression and her softer voice.
Acid creeps up my throat.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself back to the task at hand.
Whatever that might be.
I’ve never been this confused in my life.
One step at a time.
With that in mind, I turn to the end table at my side. Though most of the gallery is dark, I easily find the paintbrush and the Mason jar filled with water.
“Okay, if you won’t talk, I will. Earlier, you asked if I’d believed Barclay.” She pauses. “Let’s say he wasn’t lying, that you’d meant it back then, even if you regret it now. I’m not upset about that.”
Another beat passes. I keep my gaze lowered, letting her talk.
“Duncan, if something I did forced you to leave everything behind, and that in turn made you angry enough to punish me like this, then you need to know I understand, and…”
The gallery seems to close in around us. I hold my fucking breath.
“I’m sorry.”
She’swhat?
My head whips in her direction. She’s standing as tall as before; only now, her teeth graze her bottom lip. Her hands wring, chest rising and falling shakily.
I can’t fucking believe this.
Yeah, she apologized about the damn kiss. But that was before today. Before I told her Barclay lied to her.
It’s like she doesn’t believe me.
Worse still, it’s like she can’t.
Fucking Barclay. How badly did he mess with her head?
“I’m sorry for lingering in the hall that night. Sorry I made you kiss me,” she continues.
I’m too stunned to tell her how epically wrong she is.
“I felt so guilty, even years later. That’s why I never called.” Regret taints her voice, coloring it in a muted, aching shade of blue. “I hated what I’d done to you. That you lost everything, and it was my fault. I basically took advantage of you. You told me to go to my room, and I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.”
She can’t possibly think that she coerced me. The boy who went to bed dreaming of her lips. Every time our hands brushed, mine fucking burned.
I want to tell her everything. Need to paint my confession on her body. To say that even if I hadn’t killed a man that night, I’d have kissed her with everything I had, at some point.
God, I want to put this behind us more than anything.
