Page 108 of True Colors

Finn’s right. Luther doesn’t look any better than I do. His eyes seem just as trashed as mine.

Has he been crying, too?

I doubt it. Rich trust fund babies like him don’t cry.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“W-what?” I snap. So, I’m being petty. Deal with it.

“Annie.” I hear Finn from behind me. He puts an arm around my waist and moves me away from the door. “Luther. Come in.”

I glare at my friend. How is this any of his business?

Luther closes the door behind him and stands, awkwardly, hands in jeans pockets. “Thanks.”

Finn gives me a pointed, warning look. I don’t stick my tongue out at him, but it’s close.

Easy for him to say, talk to the guy, he’s not the one who had his whole heart blown up into itty-bitty pieces.

Speaking of my heart, I hate that it’s so stupidly giddy to see Luther.

Stupid being the operative word!

Eventually, I’ll stop loving him, right? Because this feeling of joy mixed with so much pain is not sustainable.

“I have a phone call to make,” Finn lies, steps close to Luther, and gets in his face. “You have about ten minutes. And if you make her cry again, I’m going to hurt you.”

Okay, now he’s just being an ass!

“Alright,” Luther agrees.

We wait for Finn to leave. As soon as his bedroom door clicks shut, Luther takes a step toward me.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, like the words were burning him from the inside. “I know that doesn’t fix a damn thing, but I need you to hear it. What I did to you was wrong. I was wrong.”

I don’t invite him to sit. I don’t soften my posture.

I cross my arms and stand, back rigid.

I try to wear the armor of anger, but I’m in too much pain for that.

I love him. I look at him, and I want to hug him, hold him. I don’t like that he’s hurting, too. I can see the anguish plain on his face.

I also wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I’d stayed away from Luther Grant, never given him this kind of power over me.

So many people taught me not to trust, and I still did it.

Love is stupid and blind. I don’t have to be.

“I-I’m glad you kn-know you were w-wrong.”

It isn’t what he’s expecting. I can see the shock on his face. I wonder what he thought my response would be.

“I made a bad decision, Anouk.”

I shake my head. Nuh-uh, he doesn’t get to make this some leadership executive choice he walked into. “You didn’t just m-make a bad decision. You m-made a value judgment.”

His face contorts into a map of suffering. “I know.”