“Oh, you’ve said plenty.”
“If I could go back and change it, I would. I—” I reach out for her, but she stands up and takes a step away from me.
“Stop it!” She paces the space between my living room and kitchen. “The point is, you lied, Oakleigh. That’s what you chose to do: lie. To me. Doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, only what you ended up doing.” She stops pacing and runs a hand through her curls. “The worst part is that I gave you a chance, I asked both of you if this was real and you promised me it was! And I, like a fucking idiot, believed you!”
I remain silent, the fear of saying the wrong words keeping my lips shut. I can’t think of anything worse than this. Not even my last conversation with Finn created this much pain in my chest, and that talk almost killed me. But this right here? I never want to relive this. My best friend is looking at me as if she doesn’t even recognize me, and I don’t blame her, because this entire thing makes me barely recognize myself.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No! No! Not at all.”
“But you ended it?”
I breathe out slowly. “Yes.”
She scoffs and turns away from me. “So, the only way to save yourself from getting hurt, was to hurt everyone else.”
My eyes close as if the action can somehow shield me from the pain in her voice. It’s not a question. Wren isn’t asking me, because we both know that’s exactly what I’ve done. We’re both aware that this entire situation is wrapped in selfishness and, somehow, it’s not even Finn that ended up being the selfish one. In an effort to protect myself, I’ve harmed my best friend, the man I love, their parents who are like my own, and all my other friends.
“I’m so, so sorry, Wren.”
She chuckles humorlessly. This is a side to Wren I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She doesn’t raise her voice, not to anyone except Gus anyway, and she’s never ever raised it at me. We’ve been mad at one another before, but they’ve always been small spats that end in a matter of hours. But this? This feels damaging, broken, possibly permanent.
It would help if I said something, explain in some way, apologize profusely, but there are no words left anywhere. Not in my mind, my mouth, not even my heart. I’m begging and pleading with myself to say something that can make her feel better. Make thembothfeel better.
When she sees that I’m not going to offer any defense, she scoffs and grabs her phone off of the couch.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Wren!”
It doesn’t matter, though. She’s gone. Wren is gone. Finn is gone. I’m alone, and it’s exactly what I deserve.
ChapterThirty
FINN
The moment I walk into the kitchen, I know I’m fucked.
My mom and dad sit at Wren’s kitchen island; Gus is standing opposite them, his eyes solely trained on his fiancé who is staring at the floor with her arms crossed. The atmosphere in the room is awkward enough to choke me, even from the mere twenty seconds that I’ve been in here.
Gus’s eyes meet mine and immediately look away.
“You know what, I just remembered I left something upstairs so I’m just gonna?—”
Wren’s hard voice stops me leaving. “Don’t even try it.”
Shit.
I turn back slowly, giving myself more time to form a plan. In the end, however, I just decide to rip the Band-Aid off.
“Okay, then let’s address the elephant in the room,” I say, my eyes firmly locked onto my sister.
She looks at me, fury behind her eyes. “Sure. Why don’t we start with you telling us why you lied to us?”
Goddamnit, Cherry.
Here I was thinking this would be a break-up talk.
