Page 49 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

“I am telling you it is.” Face tilted up toward mine, I want nothing more to lean in and kiss her.

Nothing more than for it to be true—but she steps back.

Her nose twitches, the tears that were slowly trailing down her cheeks starting to pour.

“I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to understand, to accept that things are complicated.

That I am literally just trying my best.” Her breath is shaky on the intake as she nods, sniffing back her tears.

“I don’t want his mess, Gen. I want you. I want us . I still—” I stop myself from saying it. What would it do to tell her I love her now? It’s a dead thing. No use forcing us both to look at it.

Her head shakes fervently, a sad laugh escaping into the chilled air around us.

“And who I am is part of his mess. I can’t just erase my past because it’s too complicated for you.”

“Things wouldn’t be complicated at all if it weren’t for him. I wish you could see it, wish you could see how you’ve let him eat away at you. Would you have kept that secret, if it weren’t for him?”

Her laugh is a sharp exhale as her expression shifts to one of disbelief. “Secrets?” She steps closer to me, I can see just how tired she is. “Tell me: have you never kept a secret?”

The way she says it, small and precise, like she’s needing it to land in a very specific place, sends dread down my spine.

My throat bobs as I glance down, my jaw tenses, and tears brim in the same eyes I see in my dreams. “Gen—” I start to explain, sure that Will said something about that stupid fucking bet.

“You know,” she sniffs her tears back, wetting her lip, rolling them together, “I didn’t believe him. I thought he was lying, because he was hurt. But he wasn’t, was he?”

“I was just there. I didn’t agree to anything. I never would’ve—” I think back to the day in the locker room, wishing I’d done something more drastic than just walk away.

“It doesn’t matter, though, does it? I probably deserved to know about that bet, don’t you think? Or is it just Liv who deserves honesty?” The bitter edge in her tone cuts against my skin, the hypocrisy of my actions slamming into me.

I thought she was better off not knowing. Just like she thought Liv was.

“I guess we’ve both kept secrets,” she says, whisper quiet, sadness welling in her voice.

“I didn’t want you to think I would ever play games with you. Not like he would.”

“But why was it ever a competition ? I haven’t been in love with him for a long time—longer than I realized. It was never you or him—it was just you.”

“But it doesn’t feel that way, Gen. Saying it doesn’t make it true. I thought I could do this, tried to be okay with the space you’re always going to hold for him. I want to tell you I can look past it,” I admit, the truth searing through me more painful than watching her walk away last night.

Tears trickle down her face as she shakes her head, her eyes shutting as she rolls her lips together.

“You can’t just stop feeling this. You can’t, because I can’t,” she says, catching her breath between muted sobs, and the sound has me pulling her to me. It goes against every blaring warning sound in my head, but I’m powerless against the need for her to be okay.

“You’re right,” I tell her, the feel of her against me sending an unwarranted flash of heat across my body. “But I’m always going to wonder if this is where you’d really rather be. I can’t turn that off, either.”

The way she shudders, in my arms, against my chest, before pushing off me, has me clenching my jaw. Has me trying my best to stifle the torrent of pain mounting inside me.

“What do you want me to do? Just tell me what I need to do,” she says, her exhale shaky and tenuous.

And she looks at me, like we can fix this.

Like there isn’t a sea between us—just a river, just a stream.

That if only I’d be willing to build a bridge, we could cross it in no time.

But for me, the damage is vast, and I’d be lying to her everyday if I pretended I was okay.

Because the truth is I’m fucking devastated. To have had her, to have loved her, and to never be sure that it’s me for her like it’s her for me? I can’t do it. Can’t live with the uncertainty of knowing if I’m really enough for her. I’ve done that before, and I swore I’d never do it again.

If I let my face crack, it’ll be everywhere—how much I love her, how hard it is always going to be for me to think she’s going to stay, how long I will feel the absence of her. I’ll feel it forever.

“I need you to go.” I try my best to look at her as I say it but turn my head at the last second, her painful, whispered gasp confirmation that it was necessary. Who knows what I might’ve done if I’d watched her eyes.

I can’t watch her leave either, just listen to the earth crunch beneath her sneakers as she leaves me. And this time, I only have myself to blame.

I think I stand by the pebbled bank for so long because I don’t know where to go.

For the first time since I got adopted, I feel aimless.

Nothing feels sure anymore, but watching the water surface slowly ripple won’t change that.

So I finally go back to my apartment, a small piece of me relieved by the idea of Sloane being there.

Because even if she yells at me, or tells me I’m an idiot, I won’t be alone.

I open my front door and the utter stillness tells me I shouldn’t have been sure of that either.