Page 84 of Don't Say You're Sorry

A small shake of his head.

He’s telling me no.

“I meant what I said. I’m not sorry.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

He flinches again, quickly wiping the tears off his face before he turns and walks away from me. “Let’s go,” he mutters to Axel.

Axel follows him. I watch them go. With our parents’ eyes on us, I’m forced to do nothing as the boy I love hugs them goodbye and climbs into the back seat of the Uber.

I’m visibly trembling. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to rip open that car door and drag him out of there. I want to fight the bastard. Fightforhim. Drag him up to my room, tie him to my bed, and throw away the key.

But I can’t do that. Not in front of them. I wouldn’t do that to Adam. It would break his heart. And even though my heart is currently lying on the ground in front of me, I refuse to touch his.

He doesn’t look back at me as the driver pulls away. I don’t take my eyes off the car until it disappears around the corner out of view.

I feel my dad and Veronica staring at me. I think she’s crying, but I don’t look to find out. I grab my phone and get into the driver’s seat. I still don’t look at them as I drive away.

CHAPTER 29

EASTON

Easton

Sometimes I crave your presence so much it hurts. I’d do anything to hear your voice. Your laugh. To watch your stupid hazel eyes light up when you look at me.

It’s been two years. How long are you gonna make me wait?

“You should go.”

Adam tenses. He’s still lying on top of me, his arms locked around my neck, his head on my shoulder, our dicks spent and soft.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I hate you right now, and I don’t want to say something I might regret.”

He doesn’t go. Instead, he wraps himself around me tighter. “I can take it.”

“Adam—”

“Easton,” he cuts in. “Will you let me be here for you? Please.”

Be here for me. Where the fuck was he when I needed him most? I didn’t have him then, and I don’t need him now.

That’s a lie.

“Don’t make me leave you like this, sunshine.”

I lock my jaw. Rolling him over onto his back, I reach up and untie his wrists, throwing the tie on the floor. I stare at him, and he stares at me with what looks like fear in his eyes, not moving a muscle. It’s as if he’s bracing himself for something.

A few tense moments go by, and then I lie beside him. He lets out a relieved breath and turns toward me. Facing each other on our sides, I pull him close and wrap my arms around his body, tucking his head beneath my chin.

Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth—a trick Veronica taught me—I drop the mask I wear for the world and justbe. I let myself feel everything.

Anger comes first, always. It coils through me, winding my muscles tight, clenching my teeth and fists with blind rage.

Then comes jealousy. Longing. The ache of what I once had.