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“Chance is waiting for me,” I say dryly and push Finn off me.
He’s stunned as I walk around him, heading for the party, but he doesn’t let my urge to leave faze him for long. He’s stepped into my way a heartbeat later, stopping me.
“Admit that you’re lying, and I’ll let you go.”
This guy is tenacious, I’ll give him that.
“I’m not doing this with you.”
I round him again, but he grabs my wrist. “Admit that you kissed golden boy to piss me off.”
Okay, that’s enough.
“Why?” I fling my wrist out of his hold. “So you can make yourself feel better about letting me die?”
My outburst startles him. We’ve been beating around the bush, refusing to acknowledge what happened that day, ever since he came back. He slid right back into our lives and didn’t utter a word about the accident. At least, not until Chance called him out on it. And sure, when confronted by Chance, Finn owned up to it. He didn’t deny what he did or make excuses, but I’d appreciate a bit of accountability.
“You let me drown, Finn. You abandoned me, and if it weren’t for my brother saving me, I’d be rotting at the bottom of Lake Belmont right now. Do you get that?”
He stumbles back a step at the reminder, torment and guilt brewing in his eyes.
“That’s why you want my confession, isn’t it? Because me kissing Chance to hurt you would mean that there’s still hope for us. That maybe, one day, down the road, I’ll be able to forgive you.”
His jaw goes slack, his reaction a clear confirmation that I’m spot-on.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I can’t tell you that there’s hope for us because that… that would be the biggest lie of all.”
He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw muscles quivering, and I fail to decipher the expression on his face. I start to walk away, stupid enough to think that he’s going to let me go this time, but he doesn’t, reaching for my arm and holding me back. My back is all he can see, but I don’t turn around.
“I could apologize to you, but I won’t.”
I catch myself holding my breath.
“I know there aren’t enough fucking words to make up for what I did, but…” He shocks me by tugging on my arm and spinning me around so that I’m facing him. “I’ve changed, Dia. I did the work. And I know you have no reason to believe me—”
“Stop. I don’t care how much you’ve changed, Finn. I don’t even care if you got a whole-ass personality transplant. You can’t just come back a year later and expect me to forgive you.”
“I don’t,” he fires back.
Wait, what?
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he elaborates. “I expect you to hate me. I expect you to call me a selfish asshole and push me away. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. I’m never going to stop fighting for you, Dia. Over my dead fucking body.”
Next thing I know, I’m walking away from him—okay, more like running. I can’t listen to this. The more time I spend in his presence, the higher the risk that I’ll end up believing his lies.
“Did you hear me? I’m not giving up on us. Fuck that. I don’t care what I have to do,” he calls behind me.
I don’t spare him another look, picking up the pace and leaving him with a quick “Go to hell, Richards.”
He responds with a laugh and a sentence I’m afraid is going to keep me up at night.
“I’m already there.” A few seconds pass before he adds, “But not for long…”
