Casanova(67)

Slowly, I dragged myself up. I wanted—no, I needed to apologize, but the word ‘sorry’ seemed so fucking inadequate. It was almost insulting. Five tiny letters couldn’t encompass the emotions that were battering me.

I’d never despised another person as much as I did myself as I watched her stare into the ocean. I never imagined I’d ever hate anybody so much.

“Don’t,” she said quietly as I approached her and reached for her. “Don’t.”

I took a deep breath and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Have you ever been in a situation where sorry doesn’t seem like the right word?”

She laughed, but there was nothing warm about it. It was bitter and chilling. “No. I’ve never been that terrible to anybody.”

“Point well taken.” I looked down at my feet. Sand spilled over the edges of my sneakers. “I never should have said those things about you. I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Nothing,” she said firmly. “It’s worth nothing, Brett. You’re not sorry you said it. You’re sorry I heard it.”

“No.” I turned and looked at her. She didn’t look back at me, so I grabbed her face and forced her to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry I ever spewed such bullshit about you.”

She slapped my arms from her and took two steps away from me. “No, you don’t. If you meant that, you never would have said it. I never did anything to do for you to hurt me like that. Not once. Not ever.”

“You were never supposed to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I overheard it! I’ll do better not to eavesdrop on little bitching sessions anymore!” Her nostrils flared. “You’re sorry I heard you say it. God, I’m such a fool.” Her knuckles turned white as she fisted her hair. “Crap!”

“I was tired!” I said, my voice a little too loud. “I was so fucking sick and tired of hearing the shit,” I continued in a quieter voice. “Why was I, the most damn perfect guy in the year, bothering with the girl so obsessed with books she was never seen without one? Why did I, the best varsity quarterback in the state, bother with the girl who could probably recite Shakespeare in her sleep? I knew you wouldn’t be there. I used it to make him shut up. I said all the shit I never meant, and I can’t believe you heard it. I was fucking young and fucking stupid and if I could do it all again, I’d never say it.”

“And that makes it okay, does it?” Her voice was so full of venom it pierced me right to my bones. “You were young and stupid and sick and tired. What about me, Brett? Aside from your sister, you were my best friend in the world and you broke my heart in the space of ten seconds.”

“It doesn’t make it okay.” I held her gaze. “I can’t ever take it back or change it. But...Lani, whatever you have that you need to do to get it out...do it. Shit, yell, scream, punch me. I deserve whatever you’ll throw at me.”

Something flashed in her eyes—something that looked all too much like real, pure hurt. The kind of hurt that you should never see in anyone’s eyes, let alone the eyes of somebody you care about as much as I cared about Lani.

She didn’t deserve to feel it, but I deserved to see it.

I deserved to see how much I’d destroyed the people I loved.

“You really,” she started, “really don’t want me to do that.”

“I do.” I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, keeping eye contact. “Go ahead. Let it out. Everything you’ve kept inside...Let go, Lani. I deserve it.”

“No. I don’t trust myself to keep you alive, honestly.”

“All right. But answer me one thing.”

“What?”

“Why did what I said break your heart?”

Emotion fired across her face so quickly I couldn’t pin a single one down, and before I knew it, I’d pulled the trigger on her pent-up hatred.

“Because I loved you!” She clasped her hands to her stomach as soon as the word ‘you’ left her mouth before she staggered backward. She regained her footing and straightened up, dropping her hands as the words seemingly echoed in the sea breeze that swept between us. “I loved you,” she said again, this time much more calmly. “And I was going to tell you. Before the party. Before I had dinner with the girls. I was going to tell you how I felt before the summer started and I left for college. I didn’t care what would happen. You were my best friend and I loved you and I had to tell you.”

Fuck.

“But you!” The fire reignited inside her, coming out as red-hot anger lacing every word. “You had to be you, didn’t you? Do you have any idea how what you did hurt me? Did you have any clue at all what your stupid fucking ego trip would do to me if I ever heard you? No. You wouldn’t have. You never thought of anybody but yourself!” She closed the distance between us.

I braced myself for whatever else she would throw my way.

“I was in love with you, you complete and utter fucking fuckwit!” She slapped her palms against my chest. “Because I saw you. The person you were rather than the person you portrayed. Then you fucking broke my heart being that person. Broke it!” Her voice was hoarse as she slapped me again.

This time, I stepped back as her hit stung my skin.

“And you didn’t care!” She shoved her finger in my face, her gorgeous eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “You said that and you didn’t care, and that was the moment I realized it didn’t matter if I loved you, because Brett Walker cared about one thing and that was Brett Walker. You didn’t care about me or my feelings. I had no reason to stay here in this dumb little town with nothing for me. My options were become a Walker or work for a Walker.” She moved back with a little laugh and threw her arms out. “How ironic I should come back when I did and look—working for a Walker. I guess Whiskey Key sucks you in and doesn’t even have the decency to spit you back out with honesty. A little like you.”