Page 84 of Things I Wish I Said
She glares at me.
“What?” I shrug. “That’s the rules. Each person gets one question.”
She groans. “You and your rules.”
“A question for a question, Sinclair.”
She releases a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Who broke up with who?”
“She broke up with me.”
“Impossible.”
“Definitely possible. I was there, trust me.”
I remember her words verbatim:“I just can’t handle something so heavy right before senior year.”
My father taught me life is tough, but Rachel taught me people leave when things get tough.
Ryleigh eyes me closely, like she wants to say something but can’t.
The muscle in my jaw ticks in response. “And no, before you can ask, I didn’t cheat on her.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. I was just wondering what kind of idiot girl dumps someone like you.”
My throat bobs, relieved when she doesn’t dwell. “I get the feeling you don’t like John, your mother’s boyfriend. Why?”
She groans. “I know I’m being unfair with him. My mom was never a serial dater. I can only remember a handful of dates before John that never went anywhere, so it’s not like this is just some passing fling. But it’s like . . .” She bites her lower lip, and once again I find myself remembering the feel of her mouth. “All the things I said about her, sometimes I think that’s why I have trouble accepting him. Because she’s this ray of positivity, one of those vibrant people who’s always a joy to be around and he’s so . . . I don’t know, reserved and serious. Kind of a nerd, if I’m being honest. I don’t want to say he’s boring, because that sounds mean, but they just don’t make sense together.”
“Maybe that’s why they work. Maybe they balance each other out.”
“Maybe.” She nods. “Whatever it is, I know I need to accept it, but with everything going on, I just can’t.”
“I can’t imagine my mom dating anyone else.”
It’s only been a year, so right now, I’d be pissed, but how long is an adequate time for her to move on with her life enough towant to date? And how accepting will I be of whomever she chooses?
The thought turns my stomach.
“I mean, in a way I’m glad she’s not alone. If something happens to me, it’s nice to know she’ll have him.”
I swallow, wanting to tell her not to talk like that. To reach out and take her hand in mine and tell her she’s going to be fine. But it would be a lie. I can’t see the future any more than she can.
“Did you love her?”
I jerk, the question catching me off guard.
Rachel. I know she’s talking about Rachel, but I play dumb like maybe she’ll forget the question. “Who?”
“Your ex.”
I think about my answer, unwilling to give her anything but the truth even if it makes me uncomfortable, because she deserves that.
“I was with Rachel for three years before she dumped me. At the time, I thought I was in love. We did everything together, and she made me happy. But I never looked over at her in awe during those quiet moments. I never felt like the air was sucked from the room when she looked at me. I never needed her just to fucking breathe.”
And that’s what love would have to be for me. The oxygen in the room. The breath in my lungs. Because nothing short of that would ever convince me to put my heart on the line.
Her lips twitch, eyes yearning for more as they burn through me. I can practically read thewhyin her thoughts.
