Page 91 of Don't Say You're Sorry

He hesitates. It’s as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “She knows about you, yeah.”

“What do you want to say to her?”

“Sorry,” he says simply. “She never gave me the chance to apologize after she broke up with me. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in a year.”

“What do you need to apologize for?”

He clears his throat. “A lot of things.”

“Like?”

He opens his eyes and looks at me. “I broke her heart.”

CHAPTER 32

EASTON

Easton

Can you call me please? I need you.

ONE YEAR AGO

“Lauren, what the hell are you doing?!” Jumping out of my car, I run over to her. She’s standing beneath the window outside our apartment building, holding a can of aerosol and a lighter. Furious, she aims the line of fire at one of my hoodies on the ground.

Anna’s in the window, tossing my shit down to her.

“Are you burning my clothes?”

“Yep.” She burns another one, turning her face away from the flames.

“Stop!” Snatching the can from her, I make sure it’s out and toss it aside. When she moves to grab it, I grab her by the waist and pull her away. “Jesus, Ren, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Get off me!” she screams, hitting my chest with her fists. “Who’s Adam?”

I freeze at the sound of his name, slowly pulling my hands away from her body. All the color drains from my face as I look down at her. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I heard you talking to him on the phone last night. Telling him you miss him. Begging him to come back to you. Who is he?”

I swallow. “He’s…”

Fuck, how do I explain this to her? How do I explain who he is to me? Where do I even begin?

“Is he dead?” she asks, almost hopeful. “Did your boyfriend die? Is that why you’re always so sad? Have you been talking to a ghost this whole time?”

I wince.

“No,” I say softly. “He’s not dead.”

Her face crumples as she cries, angrily wiping her face with her sleeve. Wanting to comfort her, I take a step forward. She takes one back, and I stop, unsure what to do.

“Here,” she says, throwing my phone at me. “I read them all. All the texts you’ve been sending himthe entire time we’ve been together. All the phone calls you made to himwhile I was asleep in the next room.” She hits my chest again.

And again.

Again.

It hurts, but I let her do it. Let her get it all out.

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