And as I walk into my apartment and lock the door behind me, I feel the tears starting to pour down my cheeks.
And I don’t think I’m crying for him. Or even for me. I’m crying for the girl I used to be. For my mom, who worked sohard and saved money so that I wouldn’t have to fight through life the way she did. And then she died, and left me money that I spent on an asshole who didn’t know how to love.
And even though I’m not that girl anymore, it’s still a part of my life I regret. I hate thinking about it, and Darien is just another reminder of my bad decisions.
So I let the tears fall, as I get out my memory box and look through photos of my mom all afternoon.
I hope she knows I’m sorry. I hope she knows I regret all those bad decisions I made.
I just wish I could tell her.
ZACH
Books by the Sea is already full of guys from the Bro’s Book Club when I walk inside. Hudson, Parker, and West are drinking beer. Asher is walking around the shop like he’s trying to find every security camera, and on one of the tables is a plate full of cupcakes covered in sprinkles.
“Who brought the cupcakes?” I ask Asher, when he takes a break from peering upward.
“Bennett did,” Asher says, shooting me a look that I don’t quite understand. But I get the gist.Don’t eat the cupcakes.
“You should have one,” Bennett says, his mouth covered in crumbs. “They’re good.”
“That’ll be the magic ingredient.” Jesse wiggles his brows, like he’s trying to impart a secret message.
Seriously, is the kid making hash cupcakes now?
“Want one?” Bennett asks, holding one out.
I shake my head. “I’m on a diet,” I tell him, deadpan, because I’m not interested in sugary cakes that will get me stoned or talking about books.
No, I’m looking for her. The woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Myfriend.The one who hasn’t responded to my last message. The one I haven’t stopped thinking about since I made her come twice in the forest.
But when I walk into the office, she’s not there. Instead, Romy’s sorting through what looks like handouts on the desk. I peer over to read the title.
Your Inner Child, and Why It Needs Feeding.
“I think Bennet’s already taking care of that,” I say, and she jumps so hard her stack of worksheets slide to the floor. I hunker down to pick them up and hold them out to her.
“Thank yo—” She turns and sees it’s me standing there. “Oh it’s you.”
Not exactly the welcome I was expecting.
I blink. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Shut up.” She folds her arms across her chest, refusing to take the papers. “I’m mad at you.”
“What did I do now? I read the book, I promise. And I haven’t taken a bite of Bennet’s suspect cupcakes. Whatever it is, let’s blame Hudson. It’s probably his fault.”
“You upset Sadie.”
I frown. “What? How?” Is that why she hasn’t responded to me?
“I don’t know. But you did.” She wrinkles her nose. “After all that happened the other night…”
“You know about that?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t think Sadie wanted anybody to know.
“Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m her best friend. I can’t believe you made her cry.”
