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Shaking his wet hair, his strands sprinkle drops across my belly, teasing my flesh.
“Because it brings back memories of us that hurt too much.” I’m not afraid to confess it. “Like the one with lemon sherbet.”
He flinches again, regrets and the ocean reflecting in his eyes.
“I never did that with Angie. With anyone but you. I just told my publicist those stories to feed to the press, to hide the real truth. That I’m an addict.”
“You sold our stories to the press to protect your career?”
His chin drops in shame.
What do I feel?
Sudden relief those stories aren’t true. Dismay that he exploited our love for fame. Hurt that even though the stories aren’t true, the videos are.
Every emotion storms through me as his eyes finally meet mine.
“I’m so sorry, Cade”—they cloud his too—“I’m so sorry for so much.”
He reaches for my hand. I let him hold it.
“I don’t have any matching tattoos but ours. And I never gave away your jacket. Heather found it in my closet, but I made her give it back. And all that other stuff? I wanna fucking die when I see those videos. I’m not proud of them. All I remember from these past ten years is my job and missing you.”
It snaps.
The lock over my heart breaks open with those words from his lips. My soul’s been crying to hear them.
He’s sorry. He missed me.
Redix guards his emotions, so when he shares them, they’re gifts.
So I give too. “We need to talk.”
He looks away. A crowd has gathered outside the pool fence with phones raised, recording us from a distance.
“Shit,”—he winces—“that fucking TJ asshole leaked this; I know it. Dammit, I should know better.”
We both know what’s happening.
Our pain, our past… it’s going viral.
“I don’t care.” I tell him, “They don’t matter. We do.” I step to the ledge one more time for him. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed us, and we need to talk about that night.”
He drops my hand, tension twitching across his face. Like I just put a knife to his throat.
He won’t look at me. “I gotta get out of here.”
It’s like I’m not here.
Jumping up, he rushes to the other side of the pool. Not acknowledging his sister or nephew for their own good, he grabs his stuff and storms silently through the small crowd, pushing past smiling fans. They follow him like beggars while he rushes toward the parking lot and jumps in his mom’s Volvo parked there.
And just like that…
Redix Dean leaves me again. Asking for his love. And watching him run away instead.
Yes, he breaks my heart.
Every—damn—time.
