Page 95 of Don't Say You're Sorry

I lift my head. “Sure.”

“He never looked at me like that. Not even close.” She shrugs, a sad smile on her face. “He was good at pretending, but I saw right through his act. He was miserable with me. It was only after we broke up that I realized it’s because he spent the entire time missing you.”

My heart plummets. I’m not sure if she intended to make me feel good with that statement, but if she did, it has the opposite effect. I didn’t want him to be happy with someone else—it killed me knowing he was with her—but I never wanted him to feel like that.

“What exactly did he tell you about me?”

“Nothing,” she answers. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Then how do you know about me?” I clear my throat. “About…us.”

The question catches her off guard. She wraps her arms around her middle as if she’s trying to protect herself from something. “I heard him talking to you in the middle of the night. The next day, I went through his phone and confronted him about you.”

“Talking tome?” I rear back, shaking my head. “Are you sure?”

She raises a brow. “You are Adam, aren’t you? The Adam in that drawing?”

“Well, yeah, but…I didn’t help him cheat on you. I wouldn’t do that.”

She nods. “You never answered his texts or his phone calls?—”

What texts? What phone calls?

“—but you knew he was trying to contact you, right?”

“No,” I insist. “You’ve got it wrong. Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t talked to Easton in three and a half years.”

Her shoulders lift. “Maybe you weren’t talking to him, but he was definitely talking to you.”

I gape at her, completely floored.

“It was nice meeting you, Adam.” She smiles and turns to go, pausing to look back at me. “Don’t you dare tell him this, but I’m rooting for you. Both of you. He deserves to be happy.”

I watch her leave, not moving until long after her car disappears through the gates at the end of the driveway.

Heading inside, I go back to the den and sit on the couch, staring at the drawing in my hand, my mind racing with questions.

I don’t know how much time passes before Easton gets home. He smiles when he finds me, walking into the den with two iced coffees and a box of pink sprinkle doughnuts.

We didn’t talk much after we left the drive-in last night. We came home, went up to his room, and put a movie on. I don’t remember falling asleep. This morning, I woke up to him watching me, his head propped up on his hand. He was dressed and ready to leave for class. He asked me what my favorite food was today. I told him doughnuts. When he left me in his bed, tucked up under his warm sheets, there was a smile on my face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing the drawing in my hand. “Did you print something new? Can I see?”

Wordlessly, I hold it out to him. He puts everything down on the pool table and comes toward me. Wiping his fingers on his jeans, he takes the card and does a double take at it, his eyes snapping up to mine. First, there’s relief there—he must have thought he lost it—but it’s quickly replaced with confusion and dread when he sees the look on my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why does Lauren think you cheated on her with me?”

CHAPTER 34

EASTON

Fuck.

Fuck.

Running a hand through my hair, I drop my gaze to the drawing I thought I lost a year ago. I didn’t realize it was missing from my collection until after I moved in with Carter and Nate. I had a feeling Lauren had it, but she’d already blocked my number, so there was no way for me to ask her. Not unless I wanted to show up at her apartment and risk getting my tires slashed again. Or worse.

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