Page 72 of Bring You Back

I just give her a helpless, “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t get you anymore.”

“Join the club!”

She softens at that outburst, eyes searching my face. “Let me help—”

“I don’t needhelp,” I cut in. “I need. . .”

I can’t finish the sentence. And maybe I stare at her a moment too long without saying anything, because her face tightens around her own conclusions.

“A body?” she all but accuses, making me accuse back, “I didn’t say that, you did.”

“You don’t have to say it.”Nowshe’s going with that? “I’m notthatstupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I attest through my depleting energy.

“And I’m more than abody, Julian,” she says with a step back that I meet, my fingers sliding through her hair, thumbs resting along her jaw. She closes her eyes and two tears fall down her cheeks as she releases a ragged breath. “I’m your friend.”

And a hell of a better friend than me. I know she deserves better, but I don’t see her as some of the douchebags our age see her. I don’t see her as the sleazy ass grown men around here see her mother. I see all of her.

“I don’t see you as a body, Reyna,” I assure her, wiping away more tears from her face. I attempt to lighten this load with a slight laugh. “It took us years to even get here.” She opens her eyes at that, a fluttering of wet lashes. “I’m still your friend.”

“Then be one. Beyou.”

My hands slide from her face to her neck and back down to my sides at her plea. Just be me.

“I’m trying.” I’m trying so many things and fucking them all up. “This ismyproblem.”

She brings her hands to my neck, pulling me close. “Your problems are our problems,” she reminds me.

I know I’m not alone, but can my friends make my father my father? Can Reyna help me love her? Can she shut off my feelings for Camille?

I can’t even do those things.

Reyna runs her fingers along my injured cheek and I let myself lean into her touch. “I’m sorry I slapped you.” She kisses my jaw, then wraps her arms around me, and I squeeze her to my chest, accepting her apology and her comfort while giving her some of my own.

This I can do.

16

The Better Guy

Julian

I drop Reyna off at home, but I don’t stay. I make her promise to call me if any fuckboys show up, then I drive one street over to the guy I still owe a conversation and an apology.

When I pull up to the curb of Tommy’s black and white house, he’s already outside. There’s enough light left in the sky for me to make out the basketball in his hands, how it flies through the air when he shoots it toward the net attached above the garage.Score.

I haven’t seen him play since before we graduated. So I enjoy the show as he jogs and dribbles, dribbles and spins, shoots and scores from every angle in the driveway.

When I finally vacate the Jeep and make my way over, Tommy hurls the ball into the side of the garage and it boomerangs, a hissed “Shit” leaving his mouth as he catches it against his chest.

I let out a whistle and he jolts, whipping around with both hands squeezing the ball. “Enjoying yourself there, Tommy?”

He relaxes and dribbles again. “Trying to force myself to love something. You know how that is.” He shoots, he scores.

I settle onto the brick that surrounds his parents’ small patio garden with a flick of my brows.Touché.His first statement sinks in and I say stupidly, “You love basketball.”

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