Annie’s face shifts as the pieces all click into place. “You broke up with Gage, broke both your hearts, because you think you’re not good enough for him?”
I take a deep breath, and then, for the first time, I tell Annie the full story of what happened at high school graduation and everything that went down this summer, including the phone call with Headmaster Snooty Pants.
While I’m talking, a pit opens up in my stomach as I relive the most traumatic moments of my life, moments I don’t want anyone else to see.
But when I finish unloading, I feel lighter, like sharing my memories of the negative moments gives them less power over me somehow.
“Olivia,” Annie says gently, and I’m so grateful to hear her use my real name at this moment. “You’re not that kid in middle school anymore.”
I blink at her, my eyelashes wet against my cheeks.
“The kid,” she clarifies, “that never knew why the books and worksheets didn’t make sense. You know why now. You know that one in five people have dyslexia. You know it has nothing to do with intelligence. Why are you still letting thirteen-year-old Olivia control your grown-up life?”
“I know,” I groan out. Idoknow, but when things like that overheard bathroom conversation or that phone call happen, my emotions take over, and my feelings of inadequacy are in charge.
Annie pulls me into a hug. “You are amazing. You’re beautiful and fun. A great friend and sister. Loyal and protective. You’re so patient when you’re coaching. Everything you do, you give one hundred percent. And you’ll figure out what you want to do with your life. Gage would be lucky—anyman would be lucky—to have you.”
I’m shaking my head. Annie’s cheeks redden; she’s getting frustrated. “You’re acting dumb,” she huffs.
I puff out a sardonic chuckle. “Iamdumb.”
She grabs my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length in front of her. “Olivia Delaney, donottalk about my best friend like that. You’re smart, but you’reactingdumb right now. Every woman Gage has ever dated—he compares them to you. And theynevermeasure up.”
A tiny pinprick of hope pokes through my battered heart. What did the phone call from Headmaster Snooty Pants change, really? Gage would still want to be with me even if he knew that I didn’t get the Virtus job, wouldn’t he? All that really shifted was my self-esteem, which I projected to reflect what I thought Gage would think of me.
If he thought I was enough before that phone call—ifIthought I was enough before that phone call—I can’t let one jerk with his unfair hiring practices ruin everything else for me, too.
“Really?” I sniff.
“Really and truly. He loves you, Olivia. So, if you love him, too, why are you making this so complicated?”
“I … I don’t know.”
I sit up resolutely, starting a mental to-do list. First, shower and change. Then, rush to Gage and beg him to forgive me.
“I’m going to fix this, Annie.”
She frowns and opens her mouth as if to say something. Then, she closes it again.
Her hesitation confuses me. “What? Isn’t that what you want me to do?”
“Well, it’s just … slow down. I don’t think this is going to be an easy fix.” I stare at her through my puffy red eyes. “You have to convince him to trust you again.”
“What do you mean?” I know I messed up by not telling him how I feel, but why would it be hard for him to trust me?
“It’s been twice now that you’ve led him on, slammed the door, and then ghosted him. And he already has abandonment issues from being adopted.”
Annie still sits next to me on the couch, but she’s switched to more defensive body language. Her arms are crossed, and her expression tells me how unhappy she is with me. It’s not a side of Annie I see often because she doesn’t like confrontation. It signals how serious this situation is.
I let her words sink in, and my heart breaks all over again. For Gage and the pain he’s going through because ofme.
I know it’s a cop-out response, but I murmur, “I didn’t mean to.”
And I didn’t, but after everything he shared with me this summer about his feelings around his adoption, I should have realized how it would feel to him for me toleavelike that.
I realize now how gracious it is for Annie to be here at all. She’s giving me a chance to explain and to make it right, when she’d be totally justified in writing me off for the way I’ve played with her brother’s feelings.
Although, again, I didn’t mean to. “I was scared,” I admit. “I wasn’t thinking.”
