Page 51 of She's Like the Wind

I felt like a shit.

I am a shit.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

I have a lot of people to apologize to.

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

I shook my head. “No, Claudine. Iamsorry. I…that was a terrible thing to say to you.”

“Oh God! Don’t get all maudlin, Gage. You were supposed to be a fuck…and that’s all.” She sucked in smoke and blew it out. “You don’t think I’d want more with a construction worker, do you?”

I let out a deep breath. I deserved her snideness. I used her on purpose and then spurned her cruelly. Regardless of what she wanted, I didn’t have to behave like a complete dickhead.

“Regardless. I’m sorry, Claudine.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She turned away from me.

I’m not sure if I hurt Claudine, but I did insult her, just as I did Naomi.

Reggie’s horn wailed—low and bitter and blue.

And as I stood in the smoke and the sound, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

CHAPTER 18

Naomi

Clinger!

The word echoed in my head like a church bell.

Level five.

Like I was a hazard. A punchline. A cautionary tale.

I ran home.

Literally.

I’d barely made it back to my apartment before I collapsed onto my couch, fingers gripping the armrest like it could hold me steady while the ground shifted and cracked.

He said it like I was pathetic.

Like I was a mistake he regretted making.

Like loving him—just loving him—was a misery he was trying to live down.

And I hated how badly it hurt.

When my parents died, I was thirteen and already old enough to know that grief made people uncomfortable. My aunt and uncle—stern, God-fearing, emotionally stunted—tolerated me, but only just.

I remember waking up after a nightmare the first week I moved in and knocking on their bedroom door, shaking with sobs.

“You need to learn to handle your feelings by yourself, Naomi,” my aunt had snapped. “Stop being clingy.”

I never cried in front of them again.