Page 54 of Composed
Thick silence stretches between us.
I open my mouth, ready to say more, but a dry laugh stops me.
“I know.” Saint's rolls his shoulders back as he glances up at the ceiling. “I think that’s the worst part, you know? You really thought we wouldn’t care. ThatIwouldn’t care. That you could walk away and that would be okay. Because if you weren’t with Cole, we didn’t need you.”
A lump settles in my throat. “Are you in my head?”
He bites his lip.
“You were my best friend, Rix.” His gaze locks with mine. “You were the only person outside of Cole that I truly believed would stick around forever. And you walked away.”
I blink stinging eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He scans my face, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” he asks.
My vision swims.
I blink, once, twice, and force the tears away. “Not even close.”
He nods.
“Did you?”
“Almost.” A ghost of a smile flashes over his lips. “Turns out, getting everything you want isn’t always the answer. Who knew?”
I swallow bile. “There’s still time though, right?”
“Rix.” He drums his fingers along the contours of the ebony ash body of the Fender. “There’s always time. Just depends on how you want to use it.”
He drops his guitar, propping it against the wall, before standing. “Should probably get a move on. Lot’s to do if we’re planning on figuring this shit out.”
He reaches the door, fist curled around the handle when he glances back at me.
I chew my lip, holding a deep breath.
His shoulders droop and he steps back, holding a hand out to me. “You coming?”
I reach for him with shaky fingers.
He hauls me up. His palm lingers on mine for a beat, then he squeezes once, before letting go.
It’s not forgiveness. Not even close. But it’s a start.
Cole doesn’t look my way when I step out of the booth.
He sits on the edge of the couch, legs splayed, water bottle hanging between his knees as he chatters to Riley and Axel. Riley rolls the cube in her hand, her head bobbing as they welcome her in without hesitation.
My heart warms. If there is one thing I know to be true—now and then—it’s that the men sitting in this room are truly good people. Down to their marrows. They accept, include, and appreciate all the beauty a person has to offer.
I prop myself on the arm next to Riley and tug the ends of her hair.
Saint snatches another chair from the mixing board, spinning it so he’s straddling the seat with his arms dangling down the back. “Hey, new girl 2.0!”
I nudge Riley’s shoulder.
She snaps her head up, eyes popping open. “Me?”
