Page 21 of Between Now & Heartbreak

What isthisabout?

Etta turns to face me, her face set in a mutinous glare.

“Let’s go. This place is full of jerks,” she throws her voice so that jerks floats over her shoulder at Beth.

Beth turns her accusatory glare on me, her eyebrow raised in surprise.

“I’ll meet you at the car, Etta,” I say without looking at her.

She huffs, but doesn’t argue. She gives Beth one last contemptuous glare before she leaves.

Beth’s eyes follow her retreating back. Her face drained of color as if she’s seeing a ghost.

She’s so changed. Not just her hair, which is blonde and flows down her back, now. But her clothes, her heavy make-up, even her posture — it’s rigid and controlled, like she’s being tested and doesn’t dare slip.

She turns to face me, her expression is dazed, her eyes tinged pink by unshed tears.

My gut twists and my chest tightens as guilt and regret seem to fill every inch of it. It’s only when she steps away that I realize I’ve reach a hand out to touch her.

What the hell is wrong with me. I curl my fingers into a fist at my side.

“Are you withher?”she asks and raises a hand to her throat as if to brace herself my answer. Her diamond ring glints against the creamy skin of her fingers my guilt evaporates.

I straighten and give her an unaffected once over.

“What if I am? You’re not engaged to her, too are you?” I demand.

She shakes her head at me. “Was that night a lie? Why did you make me think you cared?” Her voice is hollow, but her eyes are blue starbursts of pain.

I promised myself I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she fucking hurt me.

But this innocent act is too much. I drop my devil my care expression and let her see how much I cared.

“Icalledyou. Every chance I got. Until my father died and I stopped for a while because I was fucking heartbroken.” It’s more than I meant to say. “Look, just forget—”

Her hand comes to rest on my chest and the words die in my throat at the sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about your father—” I step away from her touch, her words make it burn and I

“Nice of you to say thatnow.” I spit looking away from her, my hurt now potent and too close to the surface for comfort.

“I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t there, but I would have called you. I trie—”

“Let me refresh your memory, Beth,” I yank my phone out of my pocket and open my messages and make quick work of finding her text.

I turn it around and hold it close to her face.

“Please stop calling,” she reads it out loud. Her hands tremble as she runs her fingers over the screen, her eyes wide with shock.

I haven’t forgotten her message on Instagram about not having a phone. But, who else could have, orwouldhave sent that text? I didn’t have an explanation, but it never occurred to me that she wasn’t at least aware of it.

I can see now thought, that she’s shocked.

“Carter, I didn’t send that.”

She covers her mouth, but the gasp of pain is audible. And the dawning of understanding in her eyes is like watching my own heart break all over again.

But the ring sparkling on her finger reminds me that whatever she needed from me that day, she doesn’t need it any more.

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