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How much I cared for him. How I considered changing schools just to be closer to him.
I pretended to be looking at my phone when Jack came back down the hallway, a fresh new bottle in hand.
I felt the bench adjust to his weight as he sat down, then proceeded to get closer to me, so we were just a breath away from touching. My muscles tightened, as I tried to avoid accidentally bumping into him.
Jack must have already uncorked the bottle and began refilling both of our glasses. He set the bottle on the other end of the table, letting it decant while keeping it out of the way.
“You never asked me what it was like coming back to Haver’s Creek knowing you weren’t here.” I heard a note of something in Jack’s voice. Pain, frustration, anger. I couldn’t pinpoint the emotion.
I swirled the wine in my glass, avoiding his gaze.
“How did it feel?” I asked him quietly, my voice like a whisper in the wind.
He released a pained sigh. “It felt like shit. Like I was coming home, but not. Haver’s Creek hasn’t felt the same since you left. Not in the three whole years since I moved back has it felt like home.”
My chest rose with a sharp inhale.
I would have felt that same deep-seated pain had I been in this town without him.
He twisted again so his body was fully turned towards me. His presence larger than life in this small, private space. My awareness of him ticked up a few notches. I was suddenly very aware of every place wealmosttouched. Our thighs, our arms.
I kept my eyes glued to the table. “It wasn’t my fault I left.”
He didn’t move, just let my declaration sit there in the air, lingering between us.
Jack continued to stare at me, as I continued to stare at anything but him. I stole a sip of wine, but Jack caught my hand as I placed the glass back on the table. He threaded his fingers through mine. I closed my eyes, equally relieved, and stung by his touch.
“Look at me, Whitney.”
He used my actual name.
“Please, look at me,” he asked quietly, almost begging.
I caved. My eyes clashed with his.
“What did I supposedly do to drive my best friend from her hometown? Because I sure as hell have no idea and it’s pissing me off that you won’t talk to me about it. We sharedeverythinggrowing up. The good, bad, and the ugly. And there sure was a lot of ugly.” He laughed in a way that was completely devoid of humor. “Something happened, something to make you not trust me, but you need to tell me what it is because I can’t stand the not knowing. How am I supposed to fix things between us if you are too stubborn to be honest with me? With your best friend.” He implored me with his eyes.
My shoulders fell. My body was exhausted from holding onto my hate and my anger. And maybe the wine aided in the decision, but it became clear that I couldn’t keep what I knew from him any longer.
“Katie Kooney,” I whispered, sharing the name of the woman who had been the impetus for me leaving. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to sleep with Jack, but she still played a critical role in the outcome.
Jack remained utterly still. “What about Katie?”
Finally, I turned to him. We were face to face. I wanted to see his reaction when he realized that I knew what he had done that night.
“I saw you with her, the night of the grad party. You abandoned me downstairs so you could go sleep with Katie Kooney.”
He shook his head. “Wait, what?”
It was a knife to the stomach having to relive this moment over again.
I wiped away an errant tear. “I saw you, Jack. I saw you go into that room, carrying her in your arms, her lips pressed against your neck.” I put my hands behind me on the bench, leaning back so I could look up at him. Waiting for a response.
He just gazed at me, confusion written all over his face.
“We were theretogether, and you left me forher.” I felt the sting like it was yesterday.
Jack grabbed my chin and looked at me with a ferocity I’d never seen before.
