who comes too close. “I know you have this need to assuage your guilt—”
“Guilt?” He laughs harshly. “You think I just feel guilt? You have no fucking idea, Simone.”
“Then what the hell are we doing here, Alder? I’m just trying to understand!” The muscles in my shoulders are so tense, they spasm. “If you don’t feel guilt, then why am I even here?” Pain rushes through me, but my rage quickly tempers it. What did I expect from him? An apology like Elias gave me? An acknowledgement that he wronged me? “If you’re not sorry—”
“I never said I’m not sorry,” he interrupts, tone caustic and acidic. “And I never said I don’t feel guilty. I just said that guilt isn’t the only emotion I feel. I have a plethora of emotions inside of me right now.” He distractedly scratches at the nape of his neck, avoiding eye contact once more as the fight drains from him. “I feel a lot of fucking things. And…and I know sorry isn’t good enough.”
I wait him out, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. My coffee sits in front of me, forgotten.
“I feel anger at myself. Hurt. Guilt. I feel so fucking much that I’m going insane.” Abruptly, he leans across the table, his desperation growing from an ember to a blazing inferno. “Simone, I’m so fucking sorry. And I hate the fact that it took me five years to say those words. I hate the fact that I didn’t reach out to you after everything that happened. And I’m so fucking sorry that I’m one of the causes for…” He allows his words to drift off, lowering his gaze to stare at my arms. With my long-sleeved shirt on, my scars can’t be seen, but I know he’s envisioning them nonetheless. Heaven only knows that I do daily as well.
“What do you want from me, Alder?” I rip my eyes away from his and focus on my coffee. I take a tentative sip, allowing the lukewarm liquid to chase away the chill.
“I want to start over. Maybe as…friends?” He speaks the last word with hesitance, hope flaring to life in his striking eyes.
And…
I want that.
Just like I wanted a relationship with Elias.
But how can I? The knowledge of what I did to him consumes and overwhelms me like a twenty-foot wave. I destroyed his chance of playing college football. I’ve already heard the murmurings that State rescinded their offer after the game. I’m not saying that the Devils don’t need to atone for their sins, because they most definitely do. But maybe, just maybe, I need to atone for mine as well.
And I can’t be Karsyn’s friend while I still hold on to so much anger and hurt. So much guilt and pain. There are so many emotions associated with these men, and not all of them are good. When I see his face, I feel anger at the memory of what he and the others did to me. But I also feel hurt. And, more recently, guilt. How can I look him in the eye knowing what I did? Knowing what he did?
I’m so fucking lost and confused, I’m afraid my head will explode, the blast taking it clean off my shoulders.
“No.” I can barely speak, barely breathe. All I can hear is the unsteady thump of my heart in my rib cage.
“No?” Disbelief laces his tone as he stares at me in shock.
“We can’t start over, Alder. Not now. Not ever.”
Before he can mount another protest, before he can convince me otherwise, I grab my backpack off the ground and hurry out of the coffee shop.
Why does everything have to hurt so damn much?
Chapter 38
It’s raining when I exit the coffee shop. How did I not hear the heavy patter of rain on the vaulted roof? The answer is simple—I was distracted.
Karsyn Alder consumed every bit of my attention. The only words I was capable of hearing were his. The only thing I could see was his face. His chiseled jawline. The slow, seductive tilt of his lips. His hazel eyes, a melt of autumn tones. It’s those eyes I focus on now, like some lovestruck tween writing in her diary. When he was jovial or even passionate, they sparkled with mirth. But when he was sad or desperate, they grew dim, the brown capturing and eradicating any traces of green from his irises.
It feels as if my heart’s been through the shredder, but