Her brown hair has been plaited away from her face in a loose braid, and she wears a flannel shirt over a tank top. She folds her arms over her chest as she stares at me, looking incredibly small and vulnerable, nothing like the badass wolf shifter I know she is.
I don’t hate Sydney. Hell, I even like the girl, though my feelings for her never extended further than that. She’s funny and nice and would get along great with Izzy.
My gut churns as I take her in, noting the bruise on her cheek and the puffiness of her eyes.
In order to save Izzy, I was forced to compile data on the wolf shifters. When I first met Sydney and discovered who she was, it was a no-brainer that I would get close to her in order to gather information. When she asked me if I would be her boyfriend, I accepted, knowing I would never feel for her the way she did me. Maybe that makes me the shittiest type of person, but I had no choice. I did what I had to do in order to save Izzy.
I never kissed Sydney or anything like that, but I knew her feelings for me gradually grew from merely friendship to something…more, something deeper, something I couldn’t return. So I held her hand in public, played up the part of the doting boyfriend, met all of her friends, but inside, I was screaming, hating myself for hurting her. For hurting Izzy. For hurting everyone.
I wonder if Sydney was at the barbecue. That could explain the bruise marring her cheek.
But why the fuck did she come here?
I stop a few feet away from her, struggling to find the words to say. But instead of speaking, I do what I do best and remain quiet, watching her gather herself.
Belatedly, I’m aware of eyes on me from the edge of the forest.
Ethan.
Sydney sniffles and shifts from one foot to the other.
“Something happened today,” she says, her words a whisper that carries in the wind. “Something…bad.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She’s stronger than that.
Of course, she doesn’t know I was there when everything happened. She can’t know that.
So I remain quiet, watching her.
“And my first thought was that I needed to see you.” She finally glances up at me, and the pain in her eyes is an arrow to the gut. “Does that make me a horrible person? That I went to check on you before I even asked about my brothers or parents?”
Wordlessly, I shake my head.
It doesn’t make her a horrible person.
It makesmeone.
Sydney swallows and glances away, staring at something over my shoulder. A muscle in her jaw twitches erratically.
“But you don’t want to see me, do you?” Her voice breaks, and a single tear—one that she stubbornly held back for so long—cascades down her face. “Because it’s never been me, has it? Not when we first met, and you laughed at my jokes and made me feel pretty. Not when you first held my hand. Not when I leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away, feigning shyness. It was never me, was it?”
I grit my teeth but don’t respond. I honestly don’t have an explanation for her besides the fact that I’m a shit person who has done shitty things to un-shitty people. I hurt her. I know that, and I’ll live with that guilt for the rest of my life.
But what makes me feel even more guilty? It’s the fact that I don’t regret it. I would do it all over again if it means keeping my Gracie safe.
More tears stream down Sydney’s face, and she sniffles, still refusing to look at me. “I loved you. You know that, right? I still do. We could’ve been good together.” She finally shifts her gaze to mine, and the sadness emanating from her eyes takes my breath away. “I hope she’s worth it, Grayson.”
Yes,I want to say.She’s worth everything.
But I don’t, because that feels like pouring salt on a bloody wound. I may have already established I’m an asshole, but I’ve never wanted to hurt Sydney intentionally. I may not love her, but she is—was—my friend, and I enjoy spending time with her.
I say the only words I can think of. “I’m sorry.”
They don’t seem to be enough.
And Sydney evidently agrees because she snorts and moves towards the driver’s side door.
“Don’t ever talk to me again, Grayson.” But when she turns back to stare at me, I realize she’s wanting something entirely different.
