“I’m sorry—”
“Stop saying that!” A tear rolled down my cheek, and I roughly wiped it away. “Just stop apologizing, because that makes this so much worse.”
He said nothing as he nodded his acquisition.
My hands shook as I reached for my bag. Numbly, I picked up my bag and reached for the door. He didn’t try to stop me as I slid out awkwardly, but he looked like he was about to get out to hand over the crutches.
“Don’t,” I said, voice hoarse. “I don’t want your help.”
Jase stilled in his seat, nostrils flared. “But I want to help you, Tess. I want us to—”
“To be friends?” I choked on my laugh. “Are you serious?”
He looked completely serious.
And that made this so much more screwed up to even think about, and it summed up just how shallow the depth of his feelings was for me. “We can’t be friends. I can’t be friends with you, because I love you, and you’ve hurt me.”
He flinched, and I got no satisfaction out of it. I tugged my crutches free, the motion unsettling me and I stumbled back, dropping my book bag.
“Tess!” He opened the door. “Goddamnit, let me help you.”
Cursing under my breath and through a sheen of tears, I picked it up and slugged it over my shoulder. He was standing in front of me by then, holding my crutches.
I snatched them away from him, shaking. “I wish you had decided that this was too much for you before we told my brother we were together.” My voice gave out to a strangled sob as I backed away. “I wish you would’ve figured this out before we made love.”
Jase jerked back, his lips parted.
I turned from him and without looking back, I started away from the Jeep. Not toward the Den, because I couldn’t face Cam and Avery. Slamming the crutches into the ground, I focused on a bench near Knutti. I needed to keep it together and I needed to keep calm. Losing it in public would just add to my humiliation.
Oh God, Cam was going to flip out. He was going to—the rubber end of the left crutch snapped off, nearly sending me to the sidewalk.
Frustrated and feeling a thousand other emotions, I evened out my weight on my legs and took the crutches, shoving them into a nearby trash bin. They stuck out like legs, and a couple of people walking by passed me weird looks as I limped across the street, toward an empty bench.
My knee was already throbbing as I sat down, but I didn’t care, because it was nothing compared to the feeling inside me. I dug my elbows into my thighs, resting my head against my palms, and squeezed my eyes shut against the rush of blinding tears.
What happened?
Jase had been so perfect this weekend and last night . . . last night had been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. We hadn’t screwed. We hadn’t fucked. We’d made love. It had been the perfect, the right moment, but . . .
Oh God, was I such a fool that I initiated it? That I had taken words uttered in the moment of heat and passion as being the real thing.
I’d never felt more young or stupid than I did in that moment. In two weeks I’d be nineteen, but I suddenly felt too young and too old.
A cold wind whipped up through the walkway, stirring my hair around me. I shivered, but I barely felt the chilly October air. I curled my fingers in, tangling them with my hair. Tears soaked my lashes and my arms trembled.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but I was losing my hold on myself. There was no way I was going to make it through my afternoon classes. Digging out my cell, I sent a text to Calla, begging her to pick me up and take me to my dorm. When she responded that she was on her way, I told her where I was and slipped the cell back into my bag.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly as I let my teary gaze drift over the lawn. I stiffened when I saw Erik standing under the small, bare tree near the sidewalk.
He was staring right back at me.
A fine shiver skated down my spine as he pushed away from the tree, crossing the distance between us with long-legged paces. He was the last person I wanted to deal with, especially considering what I suspected.
As he grew closer, I could see he looked just as bad as I did but for very different reasons. His usually styled hair was a mess, and his face was pale. “You told the police that I was with Debbie before she . . . before she died.”
Blinking several times, I leaned back and tried to sort out my thoughts enough to hold a conversation I so didn’t want to have. “I told them about the pink scarf and—”
“I wasn’t there. She broke up with me as I’m sure you know and were fucking thrilled about.” He bent at the waist, getting right up in my face. So close that I could see the fine lines around the corners of his eyes. “And you told them that I hit her. You know that’s not true.”
Disbelief rocketed through me. Shit on a bull, I knew that was true!
“So if you know what’s good for you,” he said, “keep your fucking mouth shut.”
Twenty-five