Page 109 of Swept Away


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“And she said she wasn’t going to?”

She shakes her head again. “Am I surprised? No. Am I disappointed that I was hoping she would agree, yes. Ellie and Hailey know.”

And I should have known. She would’ve come to me if we weren’t ignoring each other on purpose. Now I feel like an asshole.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s something that had to be done. I need to move on from the toxic relationship, or I won’t ever heal.”

Does all of this mean she wants to give us a chance? That’s selfish of me to think. She did this for herself, but a part of me hopes she did it for us, too. She presses her lips into a firm line, her throat bobs, and I can tell just from that alone that she’s blaming herself for everything.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I switch from my chair to the booth, sitting next to her. “This was her doing. I need you to know that.”

She nods and swallows again. “I know. I just thought she might at least try. I thought that I would be worth the effort.”

“It’s her loss.” I put my arm around her, pulling her into me and not wanting to let go. “It’ll be hard, but one day you’ll wake up and know that everything will be okay. You have your friends, your sister, and your dad, who all love you and see your worth. You’ll always be loved. I love you.”

The vibration of a sob pierces my chest near my heart as I feel her shoulders trembling. She takes in a breath, coming up for air.

“I can’t breathe. August, I can’t breathe.” Terror fills her eyes, and I know this look.

I know this feeling.

She’s on the verge of an anxiety attack. The conversation she had with her mom finally setting in.

I grab her hand, pulling her from the booth while she rubs at her chest. I push through the throng of people and excusing myself every time I bump into someone.

We get to the hallway and stop in front of the women’s bathroom door. I look around and make sure we’re alone.

“Riley, breathe for me.” I hold onto her face, keeping her eyes on me as I breathe with her. “Breathe.”

Between each breath she takes, a small, trembling sob comes out with the exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. This is your mom’s doing.”

She shakes her head, fast, and keeps breathing through each word she says. “No. You. I’m sorry. For walking away. I’m sorry.”

The look in her eyes is distant and hollow. Her hands snake up my arms, slightly trembling from all the adrenaline coursing through her body.

We need to be somewhere quiet and alone. I chance it, holding onto her, I press my back into the bathroom door to the women’s restroom.

“Hello?” Nothing greets me back. “Anyone in here?” I pull Riley in with me. Before I lock the door, I check under each stall to make sure no one's here. I turn the lock before going back to her.

Her blonde, buttery hair shines. Small waves flow through her short hair. Her eyelashes flutter when she looks at me. Pain flashes in her eyes, and she rolls her lips inward like she's trying to hold in something. A quiver in her chin. Her head tilts down and a breath comes out from her.When she looks up at me, tears are gathered around her bottom lashes.

"I've missed you so much,” she whispers. “I miss what we used to be before I ruined everything when you first told me you loved me. I screwed it all up."

I inhale, swallowing the lump in my throat that's been there for far too long. The last thing I want is to see her like this. My eyes water, and I look away. It hurt not to see her, hear her, touch her.

"Riley—I've missed you for twelve years," I say.

I don't know how I survived all this time without her touching me.

My eyes cast downward while I attempt to reel in the emotions that want to burst through. She holds the side of my face, the smoothness of her touch against the coarse hair along my jaw.

Then she says my name in a way that I haven't heard for months, like she’s been deprived of water.

"August."