“I . . .” The words stopped. Nothing came.
Gray wasn’t usually a crier. Now, his eyes and nose leaked in a constant stream. “What happened to you and Trent and Max . . . It’s all my fault.”
I stood up, vulnerable to the playing field.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Two shots pounded me in the arm. Another shot exploded against my leg. Purple paint splattered against my shin. I was out. But I wasn’t playing the game anymore.
“Please say something,” Gray said. “Anything.”
“I don’t know what to say. What am I supposed to do with this?” Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. I got nailed again on my hip.
“Blame me. Hate me. Punish me. Anything you need. I just want this . . .” He balled up his fists and pressed them into his thighs. “I want this . . . to be behind us.”
I said nothing. I felt everything. I wanted to shoot him.
Gray read the cacophony of feelings perfectly. He stood up and faced me. “Shoot me, then.”
Thwack. Thwack. Someone else took care of that for me.
“Sadie, shoot me.”
“You’re already out.”
“You know you want to,” he whispered.
I did—I wanted this anger to have a target—but I argued, “That’s stupid, Gray.”
“It’s what I deserve.”
“None of us deserved any of this.”
Tears emptied out of him. “Please, Sadie.”
I’d never been able to refuse a please from Gray Garrison. From six feet, I fired a single shot at his chest. One kill shot to the heart. I dropped the gun, unable to manage more than that.
He fell on his knees and cried.
Gray wanted to be punished, and I chose words instead of more paint. “I hate you for lying to me.”
“I hated you for loving Trent.”
“Trent was gay, you idiot.”
Truth stood between us as still as a statue.
To me, that moment was like putting on contacts in the morning. The blurry world sharpened with crisp understanding. And regret. We’d lied. And lies, whether good or bad, always did irrevocable damage.
“You could have told me,” he said. “It wouldn’t have changed the way I loved him.”
Gray Garrison: liar, heartbreaker, and beautiful friend to Trent McCall.
“No.” I shook my head. “He should have told you.”
“And now he can’t.”
“Now he can’t,” I repeated.
Gray’s shoulders folded. He looked at Idaho and the scar at my mouth, forced himself to own his actions and misinterpretations.
This time, I was the one who looked away.
“I’m sorry . . . for everything,” he said.
Even though I was sorry too, I didn’t say it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Some Emails to Max in El Salvador From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: May 10
Subject: nitty-gritty
Max,
Whoa, where did that come from?
I promise you that Trent and I didn’t have anything going on. Ever. You are NOT stepping into his territory. You are not his replacement. You are also not a rebound from Gray. Please trust me. Oh, I wish I could explain how sure I am.
Love,
Sadie
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: May 12
Subject: RE: nitty-gritty Max,
I can’t tell you, but I am positive.
Trent and I talked about it.
I know that he didn’t love me—except as a sister.
Sadie
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: May 14
Subject: RE: official?
Max,
Yes, I assumed we are a real couple. Exclusive.
You don’t?
Love,
Sadie
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: May 17
Subject: listen to “Better Together” by Jack Johnson Max,