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“How long have you guys been together?” Brooks asks.
“We started dating our senior year of high school. But even before…” I shrug a shoulder. “It’s sort of always been him. For me.”
It hasn’t always been me for him.
At least in some ways.
“Yeah, I get that,” Brooks says.
I sip more coffee and immediately regret it. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “There’s not much to say. She cheated on me with my best friend. One of those cliches you hear about and think will never happen to you. We met in high school. Waited to lose our virginity to each other. Except…she wanted to know what it was like with another guy. The way she tells it, the ‘other guy’ just happened to be my best friend.” Brooks scoffs. “I’m still a little bitter about it.”
“I would be too.”
“Did he cheat on you?”
I’m not a cheater, Cassia. I’m committed.
I hate him a little for throwing those words at me. For knowing exactly what would hit me the hardest. For bringing up that night.
“No,” I answer. Reluctantly, I add, “He wouldn’t.”
In many ways, it would be easier if he had. It would be a clear betrayal with an unforgiveable outcome. A clean break.
It’s much harder to explain what being overlooked feels like, even to myself. How it builds from a series of small moments.
Seeing him tagged in social media posts at parties I wasn’t invited to.
A text chain of him answering my messages but never being the one who reached out first.
Watching him across campus, knowing his friends’ conversations would end if I walked over.
Not sure how to tell him that and not able to bury it forever.
Brooks sighs. “She asked me to forgive her, and I tried. But in the end, I couldn’t. It hurt us more than it helped.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thanks. I hate talking about it but it also helps to.”
We both turn at the sound of approaching footsteps.
I’m grateful for the interruption.
Finn and Holden are carrying armfuls of kindling into the clearing and stacking them by the fire.
“I’ll go see if they need some help,” Brooks says, setting his cup down.
I nod, my gaze dropping to the bins of food stored beneath the table. I’m impressed by the amount of provisions here. My assumption was Holden and his friends ate beef jerky and drank beer on these trips. But there are lots of snacks, including chips and dried fruit. Granola bars, which is what I focus on.
I squat to grab one out of the plastic bin.
“How’d you sleep?”
I pull in a deep breath as soon as I hear his voice.
“Shitty.” I straighten, keeping my focus on ripping the wrapper. It tears to the side instead of straight down, and I grit my teeth with irritation.
