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I was hurt, but that wasn’t on him; it was on me.
So I forgave him for me because I needed to. Because he’s my friend and having him in my life is important, for me and for my brother.
Rehashing everything now would be like opening a healed wound, and for what? I’ve moved on; he’s doing just fine, and our group is no longer suffering from our decisions.
“Let me try to make you understand where my head was at, and why I was an ass.” He reaches for my hand, but I only squeeze his, then pull it free.
“I already know why, Chase. I’ve known for years. I’m being honest when I say it’s okay. We are okay. Let’s just… let it go. Forget about it.”
I nod, holding his eyes with mine, and slowly, he nods back.
“I have to go, Cameron’s waiting on me.”
“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat. “Tell her to call me. I have the notes she wanted for Psych.”
Agreeing, I rush off, finding Cameron already nestled into the counter booth, drinks and bagels waiting.
It’s late that night when my phone dings with a text, but it’s not from Noah as I suspected.
It’s from Chase.
* * *
Chase: what if I don’t want to forget it?
* * *
The air swooshes from my lungs, and my eyes slice to the ceiling.
Memories crash over me, creating a strain deep in my chest. I press against it to ease the ache and sweat beads along my neck.
This is ridiculous.
I don’t know why he’s saying this to me. I said my peace. I forgave him for me. He knows this. There’s no longer anger and sadness between us.
We’re fine.
I’m fine, better than, in fact. I’m fucking happy.
It’s not my business what runs through his mind when he’s alone. If he doesn’t want to forget, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like either of us really can.
Memories don’t die when the possibilities do. They morph into pain.
Pain you have to decide to feed or fight.
I chose fight.
And I won.
I have no idea what to say to him, so I say nothing at all.
Chapter 32
Arianna
* * *
Thanksgiving at my house has always been a big event. My aunt and uncle would come down from Alrick with our cousins, and Brady, Chase, and Cameron’s families would be there too, plus or minus a few additions they’d bring, depending on the year.
My dad would set up the garage, which served as nothing more than his man cave for him and the boys on a normal day. The wives took care of the indoor food while the men had contests on who could cook the best turkey. We weren’t allowed to know who made which one once it was plated but voted on our favorites at the end—Uncle Ian, Nate’s dad, won every year.
Pretty sure he’d wink at his wife to swing her vote when she served her plate.
It might be my favorite holiday, tradition-wise, so there’s a little sadness this year knowing our parents won’t be here… but we would never tell them that.
Their once-in-a-lifetime adventure ends just after the first of the year, when Brady’s dad has to report back to base, so there is always next time.
This year, though, we’re trying to ignore the difference by hosting our own at the beach house, and when we leave, we’re bringing my brother back with us.
“You didn’t get to come inside the place last time, huh?”
“Nope.” Noah reaches over the side of his truck for our bags. “You left me out on the sand.”
Spinning to face him, I lift a brow. “You shouldn’t have hit me in the head with that football.”
Noah drops our stuff, rushes over and wraps me up. He spins me around, planting a hard, quick kiss to my lips. “Best thing I ever did was miss that pass.”
“Mmm.” I peck at his lips. “And here I was thinking the best thing you ever did was toss me on the bed and—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
I whip around, my smile stretching at the sight of my brother. I kick my legs and Noah sets me on my feet. I rush Mason, throwing my arms around him, and he groans, his jaw clamping shut.
My hands fly away, my eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Come here.” His arms pull me in, a long exhale slipping from him. “I’m okay, baby sister. Promise.”
“Yeah?” I blink back my emotions.
“I was fucked off for a couple weeks,” he admits. “But I’m good now.”
“Thank god for that.”
I turn to find Payton leaning against the doorframe, her belly swollen and looking ready to pop.
“Oh my god,” I coo, rushing over. “Look at you.” I hug her, and when I look to her stomach, she giggles.
“Go ahead, feel me up.”
Grinning, I place my palms on her belly, feeling the firmness of the left side and gliding my palm right, where it smooths out again. I then move it back right. “Is this him?”
