“But?” My heart slows.
“A lot’s changed in a very short time.” He releases a long, slow breath. “I want to leave the past behind and move forward, but to do that—”
He stops cold, his eyes so piercing.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, even though I’m dying to know what he’s holding back, why he’s being vulnerable.
What’s he still hiding from me?
There are so many secrets hidden in those stark blue eyes.
Sometimes they feel like they’re drowning me.
But more than anything, I don’t want to see him like this. Like some invisible fear or regret or bad memory has him by the throat.
“You don’t have to tell me now. Not unless you’re ready.” My voice is whisper-soft.
His eyes flash, anguished in a way that almost breaks my heart.
“But I do, Pages. That’s the trouble. If I ever want to move on, I need to tell you why I left Portland. You should know what happened that summer.”
16
ALL THE REGRETS (ETHAN)
Years Ago
The small pebble in my hand feels warm from the sun.
I toss it a couple times and catch it in my palm before whipping it over the waves.
It’s August—almost time to go back home to New York Shitty—and I’m so fucking sick of it.
Home?
Nah.
Even the thought makes my shoulders tighten with stress.
Too many expectations.
Too many lectures.
Too many pointed questions about when I’m going to get my shit together. Pretty rich, coming from parents who never worked a day in their lives.
Everyone wants to tie me down.
But at least I don’t have Mom and Dad dragging me around to their charity pet projects anymore. That’s something, I guess.
Deep down, I didn’t mind the causes, but the events were just as awful as the people.
Selfish, shallow pricks, all of them so optics-obsessed they masturbate to their own reflections.
Even my parents, I was only there to make them look good.
Smile for the camera.
Play along.
