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She’d have chosen me.
“And I loved you enough to let you go.”
“You took the easy way out.” Her voice was low and dark.
“Easy? Baby sister, that nearly killed me. I’m still not over it.” The confession tumbled out before I could stop it. I’d tried to keep a lid on my feelings for her sake. If she thought I didn’t care, she’d forget about me a lot quicker.
Her lips parted.
I couldn’t understand why what I’d said would be a surprise to her. I’d said some awful things way back, but even when I’d become her booty call, I’d never treated her like an object. Like I did anything less than care about her.
She shoved a finger in my chest. “You stole from us. We lost years, Garrett.”
Maybe she was right. But I did what was best for her.
I clamped my mouth shut. I’d already said too much. We didn’t get a redo.
She dug her finger in the spot above my heart. “Great. Stand there. Pretend like it doesn’t matter.” She turned her head. “I guess that’s better than you spouting off hurtful things like you did back then.”
“I lied.”
She jerked her head back toward me. I nodded.
“It’s the only successful lie I’ve ever told.”
Her face twisted in pain. “You made it sound like the truth.”
My chest heaved. “Be sure you know what you want this time. Because I don’t have it in me to do it again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beau
Silence.
Sometimes it was nice.
Sometimes it was not.
Cal and I hadn’t said a word to each other since our walk. Not when we’d gotten into bed. Not when he’d slung an arm around me. Not when Copper had jumped on the mattress and Brutus had dragged the basket of puppies into our room.
The morning hadn’t started any different.
We’d gotten ready in silence.
But he’d taken my hand when we’d left our room and had only let go while we loaded in his truck.
“I can’t take the silent treatment anymore.”
He flipped on a turn signal. “I figure if I don’t say anything, I can’t screw things up any worse.”
My heart squeezed. “I’d rather argue with you than not talk at all.”
He cut his gaze to me before returning it to the street. If that statement didn’t tell him my intentions, what I wanted, I’d have to spell it out.
We crossed the Willis Avenue Bridge over the Harlem River. Were we headed to his apartment? His mother’s? To see Joe?
Do you really care?
