Page 26 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“Easton,” he says, waiting for me to look at him, his jaw tight as he leans forward on the sun lounger next to me. “I’m serious. It’s not worth it.”

I tilt my head. “Tell me how you think I think it’s gonna go.”

“You think you’re gonna fuck with him a little. Pull him in so you can spit him back out. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Break his heart so hard that the next time he leaves you, he’ll walk out of your life for good with his tail between his legs. Lesson learned, right? You’ll finally feel better. It won’t hurt anymore. You’ll have won. But trust me,” he says again. “That’s not how it ends.”

“Go on,” I say, humoring him. “How does it end, Nate?”

He sighs. “You won’t just hurt him. You’ll end up hurting yourself too. You won’t feel better. If anything, you’ll feel worse. You’ll regret it.”

“Do you regret it?” I ask. “What you did to Xavi?”

He nods subtly, turning his head to look at his boy again. “If I could go back…” He shakes his head. “My hate blinded me, E. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

“What was that?”

“That I loved him, even back then, and that’s why he had the power to hurt me. But also that he was hurting too.” He swallows. “The day I lost my sister, he lost his best friend. Hisplatonic soulmateor whatever. The only person who ever really gave a fuck about him before I decided to get my shit together. He’s not perfect, and he made mistakes, but he didn’t deserve what I did to him.” He steeples his fingers. “Did you know he almost relapsed the night he left me?” he asks, his voice raw with shame.

I nod, leaning forward as well. Nate’s not usually a sharer. He doesn’t talk about shit like this. He’d probably smack me if I tried to comfort him right now, so I don’t. I just listen, mirroring his position.

“I found him with the fucking pill in his hand, man. I hurt him so badly that he wanted to feel nothing again, and I hated myself for it more than I ever hated him. If he’d have swallowed it—” He stops, refusing to go there. “I hate to think what would have happened.” He glances at Xavi again. “Thirty seconds, Easton. That’s all it would have taken. I count myself lucky every fucking day that I didn’t find him thirty seconds later.”

I look down, my knee bouncing. “Is that why you’re being soniceto Adam?” I ask, pulling his attention back to me. “Because you regret the way you treated Xavi when he moved in here?”

He narrows his eyes. “I’m not beingnice.”

“Xavi didn’t get a barbecue,” I remind him. “Frankie and I both did.”

“That was different.”

“Because you hated Xavi.”

He nods once.

“But you like Adam?” I ask, my lip curling.

He stares at me for a few beats. “Adam didn’t break my heart.”

I laugh bitterly. “My heart isn’t broken, Nate.”

He gives me a look, one that tells me I’m full of shit. “Okay.”

I glare, though there’s no real heat to it. “I don’t like this side of you.”

He chuckles, shoving my head away. “Go.”

So I go. Standing, I walk over to Adam and Xavi, who’ve both been silently watching me and Nate for the last few minutes, though they couldn’t have heard what we were talking about.

“You tired?” I ask Adam.

A crease forms between his brows as he nods hesitantly. He’s looked ready for bed for the last couple of hours, but he’s too polite to excuse himself at a barbecue that was technically thrown for him, especially when Xavi’s making an effort to talk to him and make him feel welcome. Carter and Frankie aren’t going out of their way to make him feelunwelcome, but they haven’t spoken to him at all, instead choosing to have their own little party in the hot tub. Frankie doesn’t like him. And Carter…I don’t know what’s going through his head right now. He’s acting weird, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, I didn’t expect him to welcome Adam with open arms, especially with what I told him about us, but he’s being too quiet. Too…notCarter. Other than that little taunt in the kitchen when we got home tonight, he hasn’t said a word about us.

Feeling eyes on the back of my head, I turn my head to find Carter staring at me with his head cocked, a lit joint between his fingers. There’s something in his eyes—a warning, or a challenge, maybe—but I ignore it for now.

“Let’s go to bed,” I tell Adam.

“Together?” he blurts out.

A smile touches my lips. He’s so cute. Soeasy. I could shatter him in a week tops if I wanted to.