Page 39 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“Yeah, baby,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “You’re still the only guy I’ve ever been with. Not for lack of trying. Trust me. I fucking tried.”

I swallow. “What happened?”

“They weren’t you,” he says as he walks out.

CHAPTER 15

EASTON

Easton

You ruined me. You ruined me for everyone else.

Why don’t you come back here and fix me, huh?

“They weren’t you.”

Locking myself inside my bedroom, I lean back against the door and tip my head back. Dropping the act I play so well, I exhale and close my eyes.

“They weren’t you.”

CHAPTER 16

ADAM

Easton’s going to be late for class if he doesn’t come down soon. Chewing my lip, I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall again. The others left half an hour ago. Carter got a lift with Nate and Xavi, who were going to drop him off at the bar where he left his car last night.

Just as I’m about to go get Easton from upstairs, he walks into the kitchen, refusing to look at me as he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl. The lack of pep in his step and the dark circles under his eyes tell me he got about as much sleep as I did last night.

“You still giving me a ride?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, holding out the to-go cup of coffee I made for him. “Here.”

He glances at the cup, but still won’t meet my eyes as he takes it, careful not to touch my fingers with his. “Thanks,” he mutters. “Let’s go.”

He walks out of the kitchen and turns left—the opposite way to the front door.

“Where are you going?” I call.

“The garage is this way.”

Confused, I follow him through the house and into the garage. He flicks the lights on, and I freeze mid-step, my eyes widening at the lone car on the left. “Is that…?” It’s my car. The one Michael was supposed to sell after I moved to London. Hedidsell it. He told me so. He sent me the money so I could buy a new one. “Did you buy my car back?” I choke out.

The black Audi R8 our parents bought me for my birthday four years ago idles. He fiddles with something in the pocket of his gray hoodie. After a moment, he takes the key out, tossing it to me before ducking his head and heading for the passenger side.

I don’t move. Running my thumb over the jagged edge of the key, I glance down, a laugh sputtering out of me when I see the keyring it’s attached to. A hot dog.

“Are you gonna unlock it or…?”

I shake my head, my forehead scrunching as my eyes water. “Easton…”

“It’s just a fucking car, Adam. Don’t make something out of nothing.”

It’s not just a car. A lot of the moments from the best year of my life were spent in this car. We had our first kiss in this car. We laughed, fought, joked, fucked, ate, watched movies at the drive-in… The memories in this car are priceless to me.

Is that why he bought it?

“Adam,” he says.

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