The whole drive to the club, I’m making plans on how to get my life back on track. This won’t kill me. I won’t let it. Because if I dwell on it too much, I might just forget to get up again.
Ryder opens the door for me and says he’ll keep watch while I go get my stuff. Climbing the stairs one last time, I turn the knob and open the door to Cash standing on the other side. He’s still in the sweats he threw on this morning. His blond hair hangs limply in his face, making his blue eyes look even more pathetic. I am not going to fall for his big-sad eye look. I refuse.
Can I not catch a fucking break?
Nope. Not gonna fucking do this. I turn around and head back for the exit. Ryder is going to get an earful and maybe an eyeful of my fist. He said it was safe, that I wouldn’t have to worry about this excellent specimen of man flesh in front of me.
“Savy, wait. Please”
“No.” He’ll talk his way back into my life, just like Tanner almost did.
“My dad hurt people. A lot of people, and he never paid for any of it. But I saw everything. I ran from it because I couldn’t stand to watch my parents just go on like nothing had changed.”
“If a fucking lie comes out of your mouth, I’m gone,” I say, walking past him into the apartment. It’s still just like it was this morning.
“Deal.”
“Not even going to try and negotiate?” I can’t help but fall back into our own personal joke.
“I don’t joke about this.”
He walks into the kitchen and opens a cupboard door, showing me a list of names written inside. “This is a list of everyone he screwed over. I know what I’m doing will never be enough. That woman who was here this morning—her parents, what my father did, destroyed her family.”
I sink to the floor under the weight of his confession. I don’t want it to make sense, but the pain in his eyes shows the scarring on his heart. So I just let him go on, letting his words roll over me. When the words finally stop, I just stare at him. Cash looks so fragile, he might break if I touch him. Balling my hands into fists, I keep them to myself. If I touch him I’ll forgive him, and I’m not sure I can do that yet.
“Say something,” he says when the silence becomes unbearable.
I struggle to find the words. What I want to tell him is I don’t care and that he’s just like Tanner. Nothing he’s doing could possibly make up for this betrayal of trust, but that would be to lay unfair blame on him. He’s not like Tanner. Tanner willingly cheated on his wife with me. Cash is just trying to make up for someone else’s sins. Tanner wouldn’t be that selfless if a catfish jumped out of the river and bit him on the balls.
“Savy—”
“You can’t keep this up.” Cash opens his mouth and I hold up a hand to silence him. This is my time. “This thing you’re doing, it’s not your peace to make.”
“If I don’t, no one will. Besides, I can’t touch that money. It makes me sick.” He runs his hands through his hair. We are feet apart, but it feels like miles. Each of us lost in our own worlds of despair. I get up and move to sit by him, letting his warmth soothe the aches in my heart.
“Hey, look at me.” I take his head in my hands. “This is not your responsibility.”
“I can’t let them go on like this.”
I purse my lips. Cash can’t continue to do this. It will kill him, and he will never be able to save all of the people his father hurt.
“Do you remember that night when you told me I was punishing myself for Tanner by dating horrible guys?”
“You here to tell me about some unfortunate date of yours? Just to rub it in.”
“You’re doing the same thing. There are a million ways you could have handled this. If you really wanted to repay people and move on, the trust could have done this for you. Any third party could set up a payment plan. But you continue to receive the checks yourself and then dole out the payment to punish yourself. This isn’t your battle to fight.”
“Someone has to take the blame.”
“Yes, but guess what, that person can’t be you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“My father won’t do anything.”
“Have you tried talking to him? Explain it just like this. Force him to see the problems he’s created for his son.”
“My dad doesn’t care, he’s lived like this for years. It’s all too important to him. The yachts, the houses, the vacations…he’ll never give it up.”
“So make him see. But either way, you can’t keep paying for his sins. The sins of the father and all that.”
“You got really philosophical there,” he says, the cockiness dropping back into his voice. Finally, we’re on the right path.
I get up from the floor and rummage in his cabinets for the vodka I saw earlier. I find it tucked above the fridge and snag two glasses out of the sink. Coming back to him, I sit cross-legged in front of him and pour two generous shots.
“To the future you deserve.” I hold up a glass to him.
“This is, like, two and half shots.”
“Good thing I have a day job.”