I gotlucky.
I was only in the finals because ofluck.Not skill. Not hard work.
Another raindrop hit me on the cheek as I looked up at Morgan, jaw tightening.
“It wasn’tluck,” I said. “I’m good at this. I know it’s not…importantto you, I know it’sstupid, but it’s the thing I’m good at.”
“Devin, that’s not… I didn’t say… what Imeantwas—“
“You don’tgetit,” I said, aware that my voice was getting louder and wishing it wouldn’t. “If I let this go, if I justwalk away, Brad’s right. He’s been right about me the whole time. I’ll never amount to anything, I’ll never be anyone special, I’ll spend the rest of my life explaining the difference between nylon and merino base layers to people who aren’t even listening to me.”
“You coulddie. Comeon, Devin, Brad’s an asshole. You know Brad’s an asshole. What he thinks doesn’t matter, does it?” Morgan asked. “You could… I mean… shit, you could bemysomeone special. Youaremy someone special.”
“That’s not good enough,” I said, and then immediately regretted it as I heard myself speak and saw the look on Morgan’s face.
He couldn’t have been more upset if I’d punched him in the face. He would have been a lotlessupset, and definitely several orders of magnitude less hurt.
I’d fucked up.
I’d said exactly the wrong thing, down to the last syllable. He’dtoldme what would hurt him the most, and I’d gone and blurted it out like the idiot I was.
“Morgan, that’s not what I—”
Brad blasted the horn, cutting me off.
“Yeah it is,” Morgan said, retreating toward the doorway.
I could see everything I’d built with him crumbling to dust before my eyes. The thing between us had been sofragile, one misstep was enough to shatter it.
This was the misstep. Of course it was.
Because I couldn’t even dothisright. I didn’t deserve anyone as bright or smart or kind as Morgan, someone who’d shared his deepest pain with me, who’dtrustedme not to trample all over his heart when he’d opened up.
And here I was, doing exactly that. I’d done it without a second thought.
What was I supposed to say to that? Sorry didn’t come close to being big enough.
Brad beeped again.
“Go to your race,” Morgan said. “Try not to drown.”
I swallowed, backing away a step.
I could’ve stayed. A braver man would have, would have faced the weight of Morgan’s disappointment, of hispain, would have stood and made a real apology from the bottom of his heart.
A smarter man would have had the words to do it. Morgan could’ve plucked poetry out of the air, woven me a sonnet that made everything better.
I was neither brave nor smart. At least, not brave or smart enough for Morgan.
The last thing I wanted was to face the fact that I’d just hurt the best, kindest man I’d ever known. Hurt him carelessly and unthinkingly and lost his friendship and affection and evenlove, I thought, maybe, in the space of three words.
“Go home, Morgan,” I said, bitter regret making my throat tight. He didn’t deserve to put up with my crap.
I didn’t deserve the chance to apologize.
I was a coward. I deserved to lose him.
“Devin, hurry the fuck up,” Brad shouted through the SUV’s window.
