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Chapter Twenty-Four

Cameron

I considered canceling dinner and changing my flight to get out of town as soon as possible. I’d called the hotel back, demanding they figure out a room situation for me, but there was nothing they could do. My mother went on a rampage and so there is no way I am staying there again. Thankfully, I’d gotten in contact with a hotel who did have availability because changing my flight isn’t an option.

But as I was storming out of the house, needing to get far away from the toxicity of my mother, there he was. Almost like he knew I needed to see him.

Only, that isn’t quite the truth anymore. Before, yes. Austen was a breath of fresh air. He was the person I went to who made things better, even if he didn’t realize it. But he isn’t that person for me anymore, and he can’t be. So it begs the question: why the hell am I here?

“A lot of things have changed, Austen,” I say, getting his attention. He picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth before setting it back down and resting his forearms against the table, waiting for me to continue. “I need to be very clear, because I’m not sure what it is you’re looking for here.”

“Okay,” he says calmly, though his shoulders and jaw are tense.

“Things with us will never go back to the way they were. They can’t. You ruined that.” He flinches, eyes falling closed for a few seconds before opening back up. “And I want you to know that it wasn’t what we did that ruined it. That, I could have dealt with. We could have worked through it. But the fact you put all the blame on me, made everything my fault, made me feel like I took advantage of you?” I shake my head, holding back seven years of anger. Letting it loose will be useless, and doing it here would be a mistake. “That is what I will never forgive you for.”

“I deserve that,” he says after a moment, his voice low and raspy. “I understand, Cameron. I do. I fucked up, and I know that now. Hell, I’ve known it for years.” He glances down at his glass, tapping his fingers before continuing, and the sound just pisses me off. But before I can say anything, he continues. “I just want—”

I scoff before taking a sip of my drink. I hear the bitterness in my voice, but I don’t care.

“I don’t care what you want.” I don’t miss the way he flinches at my words. “Maybe we could be friends. Or… friend ly . But I can’t look at you the same.”

I feel bad for the hurt on his face at my words, but I won’t allow him to hurt me again. I can’t. I have too many things to focus on right now. Mending a broken heart is the last thing I need.

“Can I at least explain?” he asks. The guilt and sadness in his voice is unmistakable and I hate how I hate it. How even now there is a tiny part of me that wants to erase his misery.

“Sure.” I say it though I know his words won’t matter. Whatever he says won’t make a difference to me. I know why he did what he did, but the fact he did it at all is what hurts. I know he was hurt and scared… but taking it out on me was wrong. And so what happens the next time he fucks up? Is that going to be my fault, too? Austen ruined the trust I have for him, and that is something we will never get back, even if he apologizes until he’s blue in the face.

He picks up his glass of wine and finishes it before taking a deep breath. His food is half finished, but he ignores it as he looks at me and begins to speak.

“I was very aware of what was going on that night, and putting all the blame on you was wrong and completely unfair. If there was anything I could take back, it would be that. I hope you understand that.” I hold his gaze, but don’t respond. “I was stressed about the wedding, being in Vegas when it wasn’t what I wanted…” He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, I don’t miss the gleam of remorse. I know he’s sorry, but sorry isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. He flexes his fingers into a fist, chewing his lip before he continues. “I was drunk, yes, and my inhibitions disappeared. I acted on something that I had, I guess, been curious about for a long time. It was my fault. Not yours.” I watch as he pulls his hand back, watch as his fingers rub the smooth black band of his watch. The one I bought him all those years ago. The one he still wears. Had I not seen him wearing it at the reunion, I’d think he only wore it today for me. But he didn’t know I would be there yesterday…

“Are you done?” I ask, hating how much his words have angered me when they should have made me feel better.

“I—”

“You know what the thing I hate most about you is, Austen?” His eyes widen imperceptibly. “And this is hard for me to say, because years ago, I thought you were perfect. I accepted everything about you. Loved you anyway. You were my best friend. But looking at you now, seeing what you’ve become, it’s so very clear.”

He grits his teeth, but raises his chin slightly and asks, “What?”“You have no fucking backbone.” His eyes widen further, and I know that hurt. Good. He should hurt. “And it’s clear you’re completely spineless at this point in life.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I scoff. “Do you even listen to yourself? You were stressed about a wedding and mad about being in Vegas when it wasn’t what you wanted. You did all this shit that you hated for other people . And because of that, you destroyed our friendship. You destroyed me , the one person who actually cared about you. All because you don’t know how to do things for yourself. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be so fucking miserable right now.”

“I’m not miserable,” he says, but we both know that’s a lie. I don’t need to know a thing about his life to know he’s not happy with Savannah. He never was going to be. That’s the problem that he refused to see—and apparently still refuses to see.

“You tell yourself that lie every night before you go to sleep, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, shocked. I pick up my drink and finish it off before flagging down the waitress to ask for another.

“Despite what you think, Cameron, I am hurt over this, too. I know you hate me, I’m not stupid, and I don’t blame you. But the truth is—”

“Of course you are,” I say with a disbelieving chuckle. “I was the only person in your life that you could be yourself with. You ruined it. And what have you been doing in the meanwhile? Just pretending for seven straight years? It’s tiring, isn’t it?”

His brow furrows, his eyes darting all over my face.

“What the hell happened to you? Why are you so mean? You never used to be like this.”

I raise a brow. “The fact you have to ask me that is the problem here, Austen.”

The look he gives me infuriates me. He has the audacity to look confused over what I just said. Does he really not get it? Does he not understand what is happening right now?

“You know what,” I begin, grabbing my phone. “I’ll tell you what you need to hear so you can sleep better at night. I forgive you. There, does that feel better?” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring, so I get up. “This was a mistake,” I mutter before taking off.

“Cam, wait!” His words are loud enough that he catches the attention of a few people around who look our way. I keep going though, knowing he won’t leave without paying, which gives me a decent head start to get the hell out of here.

I start walking down the street, looking around for somewhere to stop so I can call a car. I need to get far enough away that when Austen comes running out, because I’m sure he will, he won’t find me. But I hardly get half a block before I hear quick footsteps.

“Cameron!” He’s pissed, I can hear it in his voice. Good. I’m pissed too. I don’t stop though, don’t acknowledge him, because I’m ready to throw punches and I don’t need that kind of publicity. If I have to call my agent to bail me out of jail, that’s going to be a problem.

“Cameron, stop!” he says, this time catching up and moving in front of me.

“Why won’t you just give up?” I shout, throwing my hands in the air. “I gave you what you wanted, now leave me alone. Go back to your perfect little life, with your perfect little wife, and just stop.”

“I… I can’t,” he says through panting.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head.

“Your problems aren’t my problems, Austen. They have nothing to do with me anymore. You made sure of that seven damn years ago.”

I shove past him and pull up the app to get a car. I stop in front of an old pharmacy that’s closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Austen is nowhere to be seen. Yet, there is a heavy feeling in my chest… because he is nowhere to be seen.

The rest of my night goes by in a blur. I get a ride back to my rental car, then get to the hotel. I take a hot shower and plan to sleep until it’s time to leave for the airport. I’ll be in California for a couple days before hopping on another flight to New York—home that doesn’t feel so much like home.

At this point, I’m not sure anything will ever feel like home.