Page 125 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

“I made a mistake, Ash. And I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.” I sniffle. “But don’t think for a second that it felt good.”

Silence submerges the car.

That’s when tears begin to form in my sister’s eyes.

“I… I had no idea,” Ashley croaks.

I don’t say a word, wiping my cheeks.

“We always assumed you wouldn’t want to come. Our trips were always about music, and business meetings and… God, Vee, how long have you felt this away?”

Breaking into a thousand pieces, I whisper, “Only since I was born.”

Ash chews on her lower lip, shedding a tear.

“And I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did, Ash. I know it’s unforgivable, but I just can’t stand you thinking I did it for fun, or… because I was trying to steal your boyfriend. It wasn’t about him. It was about needing someone to choose me. Just once.” I sound pathetic. Like an attention deprived little girl still waiting for her daddy to swoop in and make it all okay.

Tell her she’s important, too.

But Daddy isn’t coming home anytime soon.

It’s time I accept it.

“Jesus, I’m so self-centered.” Ashley cringes.

“You’re not,” I disagree.

She cocks an eyebrow.

“Okay, you are a little, but you try your best not to be.”

A small laugh trickles from her lips.

“How could you not be focused on your own shit? Mom’s been putting you under the spotlight since you could talk.”

Ashley drags a deep sigh. “Still. You’re my sister and I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

Am I crazy or did she just…

She’s apologizing to me?

After what I did?

I cry twice as hard at her admission of regret.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. God, I’m so, so sorry, Ash,” I mutter through the sobs.

“Come here.” She stretches her arms in my direction, and I unbuckle my seat belt to give in to her embrace. I squeeze her a little harder before pulling away, and she winces, a groan of pain slipping from her lips.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” I worry as I lean back into the driver’s seat. I must be one hell of a hugger.

“No, I… it’s not you.” Ashley clears her throat.

I understand immediately.

“I knew it. He did hurt you.”

She doesn’t confirm my suspicions, but the way she shifts in her seat to alleviate the pain tells me everything I need to know.