Page 48 of Best of Me

I skip right over trying to call her; there’s no way she’ll answer. Instead, I haul ass to my truck, crank the engine, and take off for her house, praying like hell she’s there.

The short drive feels like a lifetime, like eons and eons have passed. I barely have the truck in park and I’m flying out of it and up her front steps. I pound on her front door, because fuck being polite when my entire future’s at stake.

I’m half expecting her to ignore my sorry ass, I know I would if the tides were turned. I’m about to knock again when the door swings open, bringing me face-to-face with Mallory. Her eyes are puffy from crying, the tip of her nose and cheeks red. She looks small and fragile and I feel shittier than ever.

“Can I come in?” I ask, already knowing what her answer will be.

Even still, when she shakes her head and slips out onto the porch, it stings. “I…I don’t think there’s anything to say, Duke.”

“There is,” I insist.

Mallory offers a pained smile. “You should go home.”

“No. Not until we talk. Or at least until you let me talk.”

“Why?” she wails, a fresh round of tears starting. “Why? So you can drive the knife in a little farther? Are you worried you didn’t make your feelings clear enough? Wanna hurt me a little more?Oh, poor stupid pathetic Mallory…she actually thinks—”

I slam my lips against hers, backing her into the front door trying to push all of my truths into this kiss, as if it can somehow shove all of her doubts away.

Only it doesn’t work and instead she’s shoving me away. “What in God’s name is wrong with you? You spend a damn month making me fall for you, leading me on and on and on only to give me the cold shoulder in front of your friends! A night YOU wanted to go to! Don’t you get how cruel that was, how cruel you are? I gave you my deepest, darkest secrets and you…you…” Her words devolve into heaving sobs.

Seeing an opening, I pick up where she left off. “I hurt you, Mallory. But I never led you on, not once. Everything between us was as real as the wooden planks beneath our feet. You’re so amazing and I am so goddamn lucky to have you. I…I, we’ve been in this isolated bubble and when we got in front of everyone, I just…froze.

“I know that doesn’t make it right. You deserve better than me, but please,pleasegive me another chance. Please, Cricket baby, let me make this up to you. I was stupid and scared and wrong. So. Damn. Wrong. I was so concerned with what they’d think about us being together that I let it dictate how I treated you. I’m sorry. So sorry.” Mallory starts to shake her head, but I press on. “I know. I know, I could apologize one-hundred times over and it still wouldn’t be enough. I just want a chance to try and make this up to you; to do it right.”

My chest is heaving and my heart racing by the time I finish. Mallory’s tears have dried, but she still looks utterly crestfallen. “Actions speak louder than words, Duke, and your actions really, really hurt me.” She gives me one last watery smile before slipping back into her house, closing and locking the door with me still on the porch.

‘Actions speak louder than words, Duke.’Her parting words play over and over again in my mind. Mallory wants actions? I’ll give her actions. I’ll show her every way I can exactly how much she means to me. I’ll fight day in and day out to prove to her that my feelings for her are real. I won’t stop until she forgives me, even if it takes an eternity.

chapter twenty-nine

Mallory

After my front porch showdown with Duke, I put my phone on silent and hide away in my bedroom, cocooned in the safety of my comforter. Eventually, after many more tears, I fall into a fitful sleep where dreams of our time together flicker beneath my lids, taunting me with visions of what could have been.

His words visit me as well, tearing my heart in two. I don’t know what to believe. Was it all for show…some elaborate prank to get back at me for God only knows what? Or was it real…did he truly care about me and simply freeze when in the spotlight?

The following morning, I wake with a pounding headache; but that’s what hours of crying will get you. Here’s to hoping I don’t look as bad as I feel. I kick off the covers and trudge downstairs, hoping a little caffeine will go a long way today. The only upside to my current situation is it’s the weekend, meaning I don’t have to face fifteen five-year-olds with a broken heart.

With my coffee brewing, I head to the bathroom to shower. A quick glance in the mirror blows my earlier hopes to smithereens; I look worse than I feel. My hair’s a rat’s nest, my eyes are bloodshot and puffy, my nose is red, and my cheeks are splotchy. Legit, I look like the before picture for some kind of skincare regimen—if only I could scrub and moisturize this heartbreak away.

Even though I know it’s not possible, I turn the water to scalding and attack my skin with my loofah to try to wash away the feelings until it’s red and raw and aching…like my heart.

I’m aware I’m being overly dramatic, but this hurts, dammit. My heart feels like it’s been run through a blender, like that old Eve 6 song.Jesus. I need some perspective and fast. Losing Duke isn’t the end of the world regardless of how it feels right now. I’ve survived worse.But maybe that’s why this hurts so bad—for the first time in my life I wasn’t merely surviving; I was thriving.

I shut off the water and wrap myself in a towel, refilling my coffee before plodding back up to my loft. I dress in a pair of loose-fitting shorts and one of Duke’s shirts—pathetic, I know—and pick up my phone. I don’t bother checking any of the notifications blinking at me, calling Ashley instead.

“Yellow?” she greets like the weirdo she is.

“Hey, Ash.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her best friend Spidey senses kicking into full alert.

I sniffle, hating myself just a little for being so weak for him. “Duke.”

“Tell Mama Ashley all about it.”

“You don’t have kids.”

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