I was a jerk earlier today. I want to apologize. And explain.
Several torturous seconds pass before she replies.
Okay. We can talk.
Not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind, I immediately dial her number. As the first ring sounds in my ear, I get up from the couch and cross the room to the window. Since Max lives in town, rather than outside it, like me, I can see the lights from downtown glowing faintly through the trees.
On the third ring, Angel picks up. Her voice is soft. Almost uncertain. “Hello?”
“Angel.” Just hearing her voice makes me ache to see her. “How are you?”
A little sigh floats across the line. “I’m okay.” But she’s not. I can tell. “How are you feeling?”
Guilt swamps me. Even though I wasn’ttechnicallylying when I told her I wasn’t feeling well—I wasn’t, I felt nauseous and a headache was building—I know damn well that wasn’t why I said it. But maybe jumping straight into that isn’t the best strategy.
“Not great,” I reply truthfully. “I’m sorry. And…”
Shit. How do I say this?
“Sorry about what?” she asks.
“Sorry about how I acted.”
“What do you mean, how you acted?”
Lowering my voice so Max can’t hear me, I say, “I was a jerk, Angel. Something happened, and it messed with my head. It’s not an excuse. But I want to explain. And apologize. I know I wasn’t acting like myself, and I feel shitty about it.”
Angel sighs softly again. “Youwereacting a little off. At first, I thought it was just because you weren’t feeling well. But… I don’t know.” She hesitates before asking quietly, “Did I do something wrong?”
Her question is a punch to my chest.
“No. You didn’t. It… was in my head.” And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m realizing it was the truth. I saw something that could have been completely innocent—one friend greeting another—and let my insecurities run away with it.
“What do you mean?” she asks. “What happened?”
To give myself more distance from Max, I walk over to the front door and lean an arm against it. “It’s a lot to explain over the phone. Because it ties back to some shit from my past. Shit I need to tell you about. I know it’s late, but maybe I could come over first thing in the morning? So we could talk?”
Angel hesitates. “Are you okay?”
The concern in her voice makes me feel like shit.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “I mean. I’m not happy with what happened today. I’m pissed at myself for how I acted. And I know I owe you an apology. But technically, I’m okay.”
As I wait for her response, I hold my breath.
“Alright,” she finally says. “I have to pick up Haley around eleven. But if you want to come over before that, maybe nine or ten?—”
Another pang of regret stabs at me. Haley’s sleepover. If I hadn’t been such a paranoid asshole, I could have been at Angel’s right now, enjoying some private, adults-only time. But instead, I’ve been sitting at Max’s, feeling miserable.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt. “I’m really sorry, Angel. I… Shit.”
“Ronan.” Her tone softens slightly. “I’m sure it’s not that bad—” She stops. “Oh. Hang on.”
A beat later, she sucks in a sharp breath.
I tense instinctively. “Is everything okay?”
“Um.” Though it’s soft, I hear her breath quicken. “I’m not sure.”
