Page 99 of Don't Say You're Sorry

When I look at Easton again, he’s looking right back at me, his hands clutching the back of his neck. The look on his face is one I’ll never forget. Embarrassment. Shame. Anger. Heartache. Betrayal. It’s all there.

I click on the first voicemail.

“Adam…” Easton warns.

My thumb hovers over the speaker button, and I glance at him, awaiting permission. If he doesn’t want to hear them, I won’t force him to listen with me.

He closes his eyes. Says nothing. Nods.

I hit play, my expression shuttering at the raw devastation in his voice.

“Don’t do this. Please. Please, don’t get on that plane. I’ll pick you up from the airport and we’ll go home, okay? We’ll figure something else out…”

“…I spoke to your mom. I had to find out from her that you’re not fucking dead somewhere…”

“…What the fuck, Adam? What thefuck…?”

“…It’s been a week. Why won’t you talk to me…?”

“…Please, talk to me…”

“…I got your drawing. Are you sadistic? What the fuck are you doing to me, baby…?”

“…I moved into our apartment. Your mom helped. She left in tears, you fucking prick…”

“…I just won my first NCAA game. Did you watch it…”

“…I know how lucky I am. My teammates are great. Like brothers. Coach is great. My professors are great. It’s all great. But between you and me, this is not at all what I thought it would be…”

“…I hate it here, Adam. I don’t want to do this without you. You were supposed to be by my side…”

“…I miss you. I miss you so much. I hate not knowing what you’re doing…”

“…I hate you so fucking much…”

“…You can still change your mind, you know? You can still come back…”

“…Are you ever gonna talk to me…?”

“…Everything reminds me of you, you know that?Everything. I can’t even order fucking Chinese food without thinking of you…”

“…You promised me. Youpromisedyou’d never do this to us. Was it all a fucking lie…?”

“…Adam, please. I miss you. Come back to me…

At some point, I end up on my knees in front of Easton. My head is on his lap, my arms around his waist, his hand in my hair as I listen to his broken pleas, his angry outbursts, his heartbreak, his longing for me…

Hours pass. The sun is long gone, the room clouded in darkness. All that remains is me, Easton, and the boy I broke talking to me through the phone.

I ache for him—for that boy—wishing I could go back for him.

“That’s enough,” the real Easton says gently, trying to take the phone.

I don’t let him, batting his hand away and hitting play on the next one. It’s the last one, and it crushes me.

“Hey,” he says, his voice cracking. “Lauren broke up with me. She found out about my little secret and she…” He laughs. “You know what she said to me? She asked if you were dead. She thought I was talking to a ghost. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her she was half right.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

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