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Troy’s words pierced through me like a knife. The weight of his request crushed me, and the realization that forgiveness might not be within my reach was devastating.
For ten years, I’d waited, and it was still not long enough. Would he ever forgive me?
I nodded as emotions constricted my throat, making it impossible to speak. We drove to his grandaunt’s house in silence, the air filled with a heavy, suffocating tension. Every passing second felt like a lifetime, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at Troy.
What was going through his mind?
He sat still, his back ramrod straight, staring ahead. If he wanted me to apologize a thousand times before he forgave me, I would, but it seemed there were no words that could sway him. I couldn’t blame him. Only he knew the hurt he’d gone through because of how I’d treated him.
I wouldn’t have forgiven myself had I been in his shoes.
At his grandaunt’s house, I pulled into the driveway reluctantly when what I wanted was to take him to the house next door and convince him I regretted my actions. I’d barely parked the truck when Troy hopped out. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
“Here.” He threw the key at me. “Unless you want to explain to my grandaunt where her truck is, you might want to bring it by before six in the morning when she usually wakes up. I can turn her alarm off, but that’ll still give you about half an hour.”
I stared after him as he climbed the steps to the porch. What did this mean? Had he forgiven me? Was this the opening for us to be friends?
6
TROY
Finding Maddix in my kitchen—well, technically, my grandaunt’s kitchen—the next morning after our intense conversation last night was not how I planned to start my day. My itinerary for today involved moping around, feeling sorry for the teenage me, calling myself an idiot for forgiving Maddix, then taking a break at 2 p.m. to meet with Ashlee and her daughter.
I hadn’t fully processed our conversation last night, even though I’d stayed awake until three, thinking about everything he’d said. Of how he’d stepped in to bully me first so his friends wouldn’t get a chance to. What a load of bullshit. But my silly, hopeful heart had made a trip down memory lane. I’d dredged up memories long buried to find he was right. His bullying had been tame compared to what the others used to do to me before he made it so no one else could touch me except him.
At the time, I’d been too hurt to see his methods were lighter. A shove into a locker to replace a fist I would have gotten to my face. Wet clothes after gym instead of no clothes at all. And the note in my locker with a pile of money to get myself a new pair of glasses.
He’d been telling the truth about why he did what he had. Teenage me had a hard time accepting it all, though, and I wasn’t about to fight the repressed feelings. I had a right to be angry with him. No excuse in the world could make bullying easy.
Before I could tiptoe back out of the kitchen—Maddix hadn’t seen me—a hand landed on my shoulder.
“Good morning, lazybones. You’re finally awake.”
Maddix slid out from under the sink. Too late to leave now.
“I’m on vacation, thank you very much,” I said, then nodded at Maddix. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s fixing the leaky sink,” Gladys said. “The damn plumber I’d called canceled again.”
“Why didn’t you let me look at it?”
“And what pray tell do you know about fixing sinks?”
“No less than him, I’m sure.”
“Except he comes highly qualified.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow.
“With muscles.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt muscles are a requirement to fix a leaky sink.”
“It sure helps to loosen and tighten things.”
“I have muscles. I’m no longer the puny little sticks-for-arms-and-legs boy you knew.”
“You sure aren’t.”
