He finally releases me, by shoving my head forward toward the ground. I want to just lie down on the ground and cry.
Grandpa leans over me and says, “Get up.”
I stare at him, almost daring him to touch me again.
“You’re thinking about punching me, aren’t you? That what you want to do? Take your anger at yourself out on an old man? I have a better idea. Go punch that tree. Go on now. Do it. I dare you.”
I pound my fists into the ground madly then push myself to standing.
Punching something sounds like exactly what I need to do, starting with that bastard Knox.
I want to kill him. Fucking intimate private affair. Touching her hand.
I slam my fist into the tree hard, hear cracking noises, and my first thought is that I just broke the fucking tree. That’s how pissed I am.
But my anger is instantly replaced with pain.
“Fuck!” I yell, grabbing my hand. I can’t see it in the dark, but I can already feel it swelling. “I just broke my fucking hand,” I mutter.
“Probably did,” Grandpa says nonchalantly. “That's what happens when you go off half-cocked. You do something really stupid.”
I plop down into a chair, cradling my hand and knowing he's right. Who in their right mind punches a massive tree?
“Now, for the most important question, Hollywood,” Grandpa says, sitting down beside me. And although I know he’s mad at me, the fact that he just called me Hollywood tells me he’s not holding it against me.
He looks me in the eye. “Now, tell me, which hurts more? Your hand or your heart?”
Even though my hand is throbbing, it’s no comparison to the way my heart feels.
“My heart,” I say, feeling completely broken.
“Then go talk to your girl, Riley. Tell her how you feel. Stop holding it all inside and trying to pretend. And tread lightly so you don't muck it all up. You go with your hat in your hand—or in this case, your hand in your hand—and you apologize to that girl.”
“Apologize for what? She's the one who—”
“Not for what happened in the past. For what happened at dinner. You owe a lot of people apologies for that, but I’d start with her.”
I sigh.
My hand pounding.
My heart broken.
“This isn't you. I know you have a lot of chickens in the hen house, but you’ve always been respectful of them. You weren’t respectful to that little cutie either. You need to fix it and get your shit together.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, getting up. I start to go toward the door, but then stop and turn around. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
He gives me an acknowledging nod.
I cradle my hand against my body, go back in the house, cut through the dining room—purposely ignoring everyone there—and head out the front door to find Ariela. I close the door quietly, see that Vanessa's car is still here, and wonder where Ariela went.
I walk down the hill, instinctively, remembering the last time I hurt her feelings.
We’d been dating for a year. It was homecoming weekend and my brothers were back at Eastbrooke for it. Homecoming weekend is always one big party and it didn’t help that my brothers were feeding me shots. I was a little drunk and some older chick was flirting with me. I flirted back—feeling like a big man on campus—touched her arm, used a little of the Johnson charm on her. I didn’t intend for things to go any further than flirting.
Even drunk, I wouldn’t have cheated on Ariela.
It was just harmless flirting. Or, so I thought. Until I realized Ariela was standing there, watching me, her eyes full of tears.
She shook her head at me and took off down the hill.
I stumbled behind her all the way to the lacrosse field, where I found her sitting on the bleachers crying.
I decided in that moment that I would never do anything to make her cry again.
And I never did.
Until she came back into my life. Now, all I want to do is hurt her.
Because having her here is killing me.
I find her sitting on a willow swing in the gazebo overlooking the winery. With my heart in my hand, I stand in front of her and say, “I’m sorry, Ariela.”
“I’m sorry too, Riley.”
I sit down next to her. “Just tell me how you could leave like that. I need to understand how you could do that.”
“My dad told me that I was young. That I was letting love cloud my judgement. That you were just some rich kid going to California on a whim. That you'd change your mind a million times about what you wanted to do. And that you'd change your mind about me. That if I went, it'd be the worst mistake of my life.”
“He was wrong,” I tell her. “I did exactly what I said I’d do. Even more.”
“I know you did, Riley. It may not mean much coming from me, but I’m incredibly proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
“On graduation, your dad told me that I’d never amount to much.”
Ariela’s eyes get huge. “He said that?!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t care because I knew I’d prove him wrong. And I’ve been proving him wrong every day since. Not that it matters, you didn’t believe in me enough to trust that I would.”