Page 91 of How to Get Revenge on a Cheating Ex
His brows hitch slightly in surprise.
“Because I am,” I add.
He stares at me with this unreadable stare. He’s quiet for so long the words seem to swell and take up space between us. They sound more significant than I’d intended, so I hurry to add, “They need to see that you’re not the bad guy here, Zack.”
With a sharp inhale, he looks up to the ceiling, the muscle in his jaw working again. “Why does that bother you so much?” His gaze drops down to meet mine. “I told you I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.”
“Why?” he asks again.
“Because you’renota bad guy.” My voice is too loud, but honestly, his attitude is annoying the crap out of me. “You’regood, Zack.” I move toward him until I’m right in his face. “You’re good, and you’re kind, and you’re loyal?—”
“Careful there, Smurfette,” he interrupts with a lazy smile. “Now you’re makingmeout to be some sort of saint, and we both know that’s not true.”
I look into his eyes and I don’t like what I see. There’s his snark and that apathy that he hides behind so well, but there’s something more. Something darker. It’s self-derision or...or something like it. It’s disdain and maybe even disgust, but it’s not toward me.
Maybe it was never toward me.
The sight of it makes my hands curl into fists, defensive on his behalf. But I don’t want a fight, and that’s what he’s looking for.
I soften my tone. “I know you’re no saint, Zack.” I try for a smile and fall short. “Trust me when I say I have no misconceptions about you. I know your flaws, and I know...I know...” I fumble over my words as I stare at him, because all at once I see it. I get it.
Just like the pieces clicked into place for me, I’m seeing his too. It’s staring me right in the face. “I know your flaws, Zack, but I also know that you’re nothim.”
A flare of his nostrils is the only sign he heard me, let alone understood.
I move a little closer but stop when he tenses. I want to reach out to him, but I don’t. I can’t. Because if I do and he backs away, I’m not sure what I’ll do. “You’re not your father, Zack.”
He stares at me for a full heartbeat before looking away. “I know that.”
“Do you?”
He doesn’t answer. I didn’t really expect him to.
My heart is aching, and I don’t know what else to say. How to make this right.
I don’t know if he outright fears becoming his father—I’m not a mind reader—but I do know there’s something there.
I might have gotten it into my head that I had to be perfect to be seen and heard and respected, but he’d figured out that it was far easier to just not care.
Or, at least, he’d learned it was easier toactlike he didn’t care. I swallow hard, hurting like hell for the kid I’d known. For my friend who’d needed me back then.
He’d fooled me along with everyone else, and I hate myself for that. For not seeing it sooner.
He’d been hurt, and he’d retreated.
He’d stopped trying.
But he’d never stoppedcaring.
“Look…” I shift closer, my fingers itching with the need to reach for him. “We’ve both made mistakes. We’ve both acted like idiots.”
He doesn’t react. And I can’t get a gauge on where he’s at, or what he’s thinking. So I keep going and hope I’m getting through to him.
“But I’m done pretending to be something I’m not,” I say. “And I’m not about to sit by and let people make you out to be something you’re not either.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes moving over my face like he’s reading something there. The silence stretches so long, my heart starts to pick up its pace, and fear knots in my gut.
