Page 57 of Dirty Martini
He sets his sketchbook down, fucking with his fingers as he looks toward the shuttered windows. “My dream has always been to go to college, and I’ve done nothing with it. I could have moved on, but I didn’t.”
I raise an eyebrow at that. “So, you can technically go to college?”
“Well, my records were sealed, so yeah.”
“I mean, you could still go,” I say quickly and reach for his hand. “You’re so smart, Rhys. I’m sure that?—”
“Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the money,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Who’s going to give me a scholarship now?”
“But—”
He sighs, dropping his shaking head and lacing his fingers with mine. “It’s okay, Ev. I’ve accepted it. My present is on me. Not you.”
To hear him say that relieves me of a lot of the guilt I’ve been carrying. Not all of it, but enough that I feel confident finally saying what I should have all those years ago. “I’m sorry.”
His head snaps up, jaw clenched as he squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to?—”
“But I do.” Tears once again spring to my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rhys. I’m sorry for the part I played in all of this. I know you can’t just forgive me for everything that’s happened, but please know, I mean it.”
It takes him a moment where he has a death grip on me, eyes briefly hardening. “You’ve never apologized like you meant it before.”
I nod because I know I haven’t. I’ve thought about what happened with Rhys almost every day since. It’s haunted me that I hurt him so deeply, understanding that I played a fundamental part in how his life turned out. I’ve owed this to him for years, but I was too caught up in myself to give him what he needed. Maybe it won’t fix anything, or maybe he’ll scoff because it’s a little too late, but I have to try to show him how truly sorry I am.
“I was a coward,” I whisper, hating how my voice cracks at the end of my words. “After they took you in, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to hate me, but I just made things worse by not saying anything.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. There’s wariness in his eyes, a fierce sense of self-preservation coating his features, but hedoesn’t let go of my hand. “You just let them think they were mine.”
“Because I was scared, but I know that’s no excuse,” I rush out. “I should have said something,donesomething, helped you like Elton tried to, but I didn’t. It’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. You always stood up for me growing up, and I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
It isn’t enough and I know it. Now that we’re dredging up the past, I don’t know how Rhys can stand to be in a room with me, let alone touch me the way he has. I don’t deserve any of his kindness or his forgiveness. I made a mistake and waited too long to own up to it, and that’s on me.
I try to pull my hand away, shame and guilt making my heart race, but he surprises me by yanking me back. He pulls my hand into his lap, inklings of vulnerability shining through his eyes. “You hurt me.”
I gulp. “I know.”
“I thought I could trust you.”
“I know that too.” I swallow harshly as hope and resilience push me forward. “I know what we are, Rhys. I don’t expect more, but if you think you can, I’d at least like to try to be friends.”
Again, he hesitates, and I don’t blame him. The suspense sets me on edge but, again, hope lingers.
Because he’s still holding my hand.
All our problems can’t magically disappear. There are still things I’m keeping close to my chest, but the white flag has been raised.
And I just hope he takes it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rhys
I don’t knowwhat to say.
After four years, I never expected this to happen. Before, when it all went down, I waited for it. I had needed an explanation, something to justify the events that completely altered my life, but it never came. Time passed, and while the stain lingered, I had resigned myself.
Now that closure is finally within my reach, I don’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t feel like I thought it would. I used to think that the hatred would win out. I thought that this would be the moment I unleashed all the bitterness, but that’s not the case anymore.
I’m yearning to accept Everest’s apology. Instead of hate, I feel relief. Still, I don’t trust it. I’m hesitating because Everest broke my trust once when I least expected it, so what would stop it from happening again? I’m still holding his hand, unconsciously rubbing my thumb over his pulse point. I feel what my silence is doing to him, but I need a minute.
