Page 33 of Of Heather and Thistle
“I don’t know.” The words came out flat, but something sharp twisted in her chest. “She hurt me so badly, Mark. I don’t feel like I can.”
He sighed and leaned against the counter again as he crossed his arms. “I get that things are messy between you two right now.”
Heather huffed a bitter laugh. Messy didn’t even begin to cover it.
“But, Heather,” Mark continued, watching her carefully, “you and Ivy have been through alottogether. Maybe leaving without saying anything isn’t how to go about it.”
Her chest tightened—not with guilt, but with something frustrated and raw.
Of course, that was his first thought. Of course, everyone always came back to Ivy.
Heather’s throat ached with the weight of everything she hadn’t said yet. “Did she ever tell you?” she asked.
Mark’s brows knit together. “Tell me what?”
Heather hesitated for half a second, but then thought, “Fuck it.” “Ivy bribed Sam to take me out.”
Mark’s expression froze. Heather pushed forward with her confession, and the words tumbled out before she could choke on them. “She told him that if he went on a date with me, she’d sleep with him after.”
Silence.
Mark’s arms dropped to his sides. His whole posture shifted—the casual ease was gone in an instant. “She,what!”His voice wasn’t teasing anymore—low, sharp. Angry.Heather’s chest hollowed out at the sound of it.
“Yeah…” she said bitterly, her voice trembling. “That’s how little she thinks of me.”
His jaw ticked.
The weight of it all pressed down on Heather. “How do I even begin to have a conversation with her after that?”
Mark let out a slow, controlled breath— one of those deep, calming exhales that meant he was tryingveryhard not to explode.
He ran a hand over his face, then rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s… uh, wow.” His voice was tight. “I didn’t know it was that bad.” Heather let out a short, humorless laugh. “Neither did I.”
Mark shook his head. “I’m sorry, Heather. That’s beyond messed up.”
For a second, she thought that was it. That he’d understand now, but then he hesitated, and Heather felt it before he even said it.
“…Even so…”
Heather’s stomach dropped.Here it comes.
He chose his words too carefully: “…maybe saying something will helpyou.Not her.”
Heather’s fists curled against the strap of her bag. “Mark—”
“—I’m not saying forgive her.” He raised a hand, cutting her off before she could argue. “I’m saying that walking away without saying goodbye could leave more loose ends. And you don’t need more of those.”
Heather’s teeth clenched so tightly that it hurt. She knew what he meant. ButGod, it burned.Because she could feel it—the old instinct pulling at her like a leash—to be the bigger person. To fix it. Tonotlet the story endlike this. But why was italwayson her? Why was she always the one who had to worry about loose ends? Why was she always the one who had to make it right?
Heather let herself be angry.“She made me a joke, Mark.” Her voice shook, but her resolve didn’t waver.
Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Heather, listen to me. You were never a joke. You are the kindest, most brilliant person I know. And if she couldn’t see that?” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. “…that’s not on you. That’s on her.”
Heather inhaled deeply, the words settling into something raw, something unshakable in her heart. Her chest ached—not just from the hurt, but from the sheer relief of being seen. Of knowing that maybe she hadn’t been the fool Ivy had made her out to be.
Her fingers released the strap of her bag, and both hands curled into fists at her sides, then released as she breathed out a slow breath, a steadying exhale. She met Mark’s gaze, not just with exhaustion, but with something closer to believing him.
Finally, she gave a small, reluctant nod. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
