Page 140 of The Revenge Game
“My mom used to say that loving someone means trusting them with your broken pieces,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw. “I thought you were helping put mine back together, but you were just…collecting evidence of the cracks.”
Drew’s face crumples at my words, but I force myself to turn away, leaving him on the riverbank with nothing but the cold December wind and the weight of everything broken between us.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Andrew
I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.
The memory of Justin’s face will haunt me forever.
I somehow make it home to my apartment. My fingers shake as I message Adam that I won’t be back in the office today. The most basic task feels monumental when your world is collapsing.
What should I do now?
Justin said he needed space from me right now.
But I can’t just do nothing. I can’t let the most important person in my life slip away because I was too afraid to be completely honest.
So what can I do?
It appears I’m going with blowing up Justin’s phone with messages.
I’m sorry. It started out as a game. But then it became real. Please forgive me.
I love you, Justin. I know you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but I love you so much. I love everything about you.
I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please know that every moment I spent with you and the cats, every time you trusted me with pieces of yourself, that was all real. I might have been pretending at first, but somewhere between our adventures together and sharing cat memes, you made me want to be real too.
My phone shows that Justin has read my messages. It gives me a tiny glimmer of hope.
But he doesn’t reply.
Around two a.m., I start calling him. When he doesn’t pick up, I leave voicemails. Long, rambling voicemails where I tell Justin everything I feel and spill the contents of my heart. I want him to know that every moment we spent together rewrote my definition of happiness.
I have no dignity, no filter between my brain and my mouth, no sense of shame.
None of that matters. I don’t care about anything besides getting to see Justin’s smile again.
Around four a.m., I finally fall asleep, still clutching my phone. I wake up to find myself sprawled face-down on my couch with my phone stuck to my cheek from drool.
I scramble to check my phone, but there’s still nothing from Justin.
The emptiness of my notification screen hits me like a physical blow. I let out a feral-sounding sob.
It’s the kind of noise that would definitely earn me Cassie’s most judgmental stare if she were here. But she’s not.
None of them are here.
The shower doesn’t clear my head like I hoped. I stand under the spray until the water runs cold, trying to wash away thememory of Justin’s face by the river, seeing the impact of every lie I’ve told.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror looks exactly like someone who has spent the night texting and leaving voicemails for their ex. Except Justin isn’t my ex, is he? He’s the guy I fell in love with while pretending to be someone else, which probably requires a whole new category of relationship disaster.
I put my contact lenses in with shaking hands. I’ve been wearing my glasses more and more, but today, I can’t bear to see the reflection of high school Andrew staring back at me. I’ve spent so long trying to distance myself from that scared kid that I never realized I was still letting him make my choices.
Even though the tube is packed with the usual morning crowd, it feels emptier without Justin beside me. There’s no one to share observations about British commuting etiquette, no one to debate the merits of different M&M colors or share cat conspiracy theories with.
A guy across from me is wearing a Houston Texans jersey, and my chest aches, remembering how Justin’s workspace is plastered with Texas sports memorabilia.
