Page 20 of I'm Yours

Chapter Six

Reed

For the second time today I’m standing face-to-face with Sadie. Only this time she’s covered up, which makes me both irrationally happy and upset at the same time. Happy because I’d be fucking pissed (again – irrationally so) if she were walking around allowing other men to see her dressed that way. Upset because, well, she looks amazing and I wouldn’t mind seeing her in the outfit she was wearing to teach pole dancing classes.

I shake my head, angry that I’m so focused on what she’s wearing rather than the fact that she’s here in my presence.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, voice gruff. I don’t leave the safety of where I’m standing next to my pickup. I know if I take a step toward her, I’ll want to take her in my arms. How is it that after all these years, her body still calls to me? My fingers itch to reach out so I shove them in my pockets, hoping that it isn’t obvious that I am aching to touch her once again.

She studies me for a few seconds. “Probably the same thing you’re doing here.”

For some reason, her words irritate me. Why does she think she has the right to know what I’m thinking or doing? I widen my stance and huff, “I have no idea why I’m here, so maybe you can enlighten me.”

Sadie looks around, her cheeks going slightly pink. “I don’t have an answer for that,” she eventually admits. “I was a little off-kilter after you left and just got in my car and drove.”

“After you changed,” I acknowledge with a nod in her direction and she blushes deeper.

“Those shoes aren’t necessarily easy to drive in.”

“I’d imagine not,” I murmur, looking away.

I don’t know what else to say to her. Once upon a time, she and I could sit and talk for hours without prompting. It wasn’t this uncomfortableness that has settled between us. We’re strangers now. Except, I don’t think we are. At least not from her perspective.

“I’m sorry that I surprised you.” Her voice carries over to me in the soft wind, so soft that I can barely hear.

“Not your fault.” I take a step toward her then back again, cataloging everything about Sadie. I didn’t allow myself to really pay attention earlier. My greedy eyes were taking in every inch of her, and luckily, I was able to see a lot of those inches thanks to her barely-there outfit. Now, though, she’s covered up and wearing something that reminds me of Sadie Jones, eighteen-year-old heartbreaker. Casual in her leggings, fitted white t-shirt, and flip-flops. Simple. Beautiful.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she says, taking a step toward me, fidgeting with her hands in front of her.

“Me either,” I admit, shrugging a shoulder and looking away from her. We used to be best friends. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her. At least, I thought I did. “Though, I’d imagine this will be easier for you.”

“How so?” Her eyebrows furrow and eyes narrow, as if she’s a little angry by my assumption.

I can’t help the twinge of bitterness that’s in my voice when I say to her, “You didn’t seem as surprised to see me in Lakeside as I did to realize you were still here. Or that you spend time with my mother.”

“You didn’t want to know.”

I blink twice, lick my lips, and take a step backward. Her proximity is doing strange things to me and I need the space. I have no idea how this woman has such a grip on me. I don’t know anything about her anymore, but something inside tells me that’s a lie. That I still know her. I always have. Truth is, I never knew her the way I thought I did. “No. I didn’t. For a reason.”

“I’m sorry, Reed.”

I want to demand she tell me what she’s sorry for at the same time I don’t want for her to be sorry because I wish there was nothing for her to be sorry for. That’s the bitch of it, though. There really isn’t. Unrequited love isn’t something the person on the receiving end of that love has any fault in. My feelings for her weren’t her fault anymore than my own. She didn’t love me. I was in love with her. It was as simple as that.

I swallow hard. When I was younger, I would have gotten pissed. Now, I know life is too short. It’s time to let the past go. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was eighteen. I reacted poorly to being turned down. To not getting my way. We both moved on, but really, I didn’t. Not completely or as I should have. For that, I’m sorry. I’m man enough to admit that once upon a time, you broke my heart and instead of sucking it up and accepting the fact that you didn’t return those feelings, I acted like a spoiled punk. I’m sorry.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and I watch as her chest rises and falls. I pull my hands out of my pockets and brush one through my short hair.

“It wasn’t…” she trails off and I wait for her to continue. To explain whateverwasn’tbut she looks away, focusing on the mountains in the distance. When her eyes return to me, they’re filled with a flood of emotions that I can’t name and that drives me insane. It used to be that I knew what she was thinking with a single look. That was before, though.

She doesn’t continue but I can’t let it go. I reach out a hand to her and drop it. “Wasn’t, what?”

“Nothing. You’re right. We both moved on.”

She did, didn’t she… moved on from me. It was me who didn’t move on. At least not entirely. There was a part of me that always kept Sadie in my heart. Maybe it was because we never had closure. Whatever the reason, I feel like a major shithead. Katherine deserved better than what I gave her, even if she didn’t know it. Since her death, I’ve thought a lot about how I loved Katherine. Did I hold back and not give her what she deserved? Is that why she struggled with her appearance and weight? Because I didn’t love her enough? Was it enough? I’m really not sure but a huge part of me thinks it wasn’t. How could it be when a part of my heart was always reserved for someone else? The guilt is sometimes suffocating.

Anger brews inside me – whether it’s justified or not, I don’t know. If I’d have had closure from Sadie, would I have given more of myself to Katherine? Would she have had the struggles that she did or did a part of her know that there was someone else who lived in a section of my heart and I never sent out the eviction notice?

I scrub a hand down my face and growl, “Fuck.” Frustration grows and I yell, “Fuck!”

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