Thirty-Two
Avery
Running out in front of a moving car is far from the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and considering the person behind the wheel hates me with the burning passion of a thousand suns, it’s definitely not the brightest move either. Yet, here I am, jumping in front of Aspen’s ’67 Impala like I’m a cat with eight lives to spare.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I shout before the car can leave the parking lot.
Aspen slams on the brakes before the front bumper takes me out at the knees, and my hands collide with the hood to steady myself. His shock quickly turns to fury when he registers who he almost turned into road-kill, and his palm lands on the horn.
I wince, but when I don’t back down, he rolls down the window to shout at me over the noise.
“Move!”
I still don’t move.
Instead, I stare at them through the windshield until he finally lays off the horn. It’s only then, despite his clear frustration and the ringing in my ears, that I manage to calmly state my intention.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You—” Aspen cuts himself off, a scoff leaving him before he tosses his hand out. “The only thing you need to do is get the fuck out of my way before I hit you.”
“Pen, just relax,” Keene says from the passenger seat, speaking for the first time.
Aspen looks like he’d rather jump off a bridge when he glances over at Keene, but I use his momentary distraction to press a little further.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see, and I have no right to ask anything of you, but I’d really appreciate you giving me five minutes. Ten tops.”
“The only thing you’re gonna be getting from us is ran over if you— ”
“Would you just let him talk?” Keene asks, clearly exasperated.
“Baby, there’s no way you’re actually considering this. After what he’s done?”
Keene’s attention moves between me and Aspen before he calmly says, “Park the car.”
Aspen’s brows draw down. “Kee—”
Keene doesn’t allow him to finish, clicking his seat belt off and shoving open the car door instead. He lets it fall closed behind him before motioning to where Aspen’s still sitting in the vehicle.
“You can either park the car and join us or go home and I’ll do this without you.”
Fury doesn’t begin to describe Aspen’s expression before he concedes, shifting the car into reverse.
Keene leads me toward the stadium and drops down on one of the benches near the entrance, watching me with a wary expression when I take a seat at the other end. Nervous energy radiates off me in waves, but if he can feel it, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps quietly looking at me while we wait for Aspen.
Who, as soon as he’s within shouting distance of me and Keene, starts laying into me.
“How the hell are you even here?”
I shift my attention to find him storming across the pavement, not stopping until he’s standing beside Keene. His eyes are overflowing with animosity as he glares down at me, venom falling from his tongue with ease. “Last time I checked, you aren’t a student here anymore. You know, on the account of you being expelled for your shining display of assholery.”
Keene winces. “I think what he’s trying to say is that we’re surprised to see you.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I said what I meant,” he snaps, eyes still locked on me.
Fuck, this isn’t off to a good start.
Knowing that my time is limited, I try to find the best place to start. I’ve been winging it with pretty much everyone on this apology tour, figuring it made more sense to just speak from the heart, or whatever. Even with Kaleb, I had no idea what I was gonna say, and that was the one I was most nervous about, by far.
But now that I have these two in front of me, I’m realizing this is the biggest conversation of all. Not because I worry Kaleb will change his mind if it doesn’t go well, but because I truly don’t want Aspen or Keene to think my actions had anything to do with them.
It was all me.
Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I shift my attention to Keene and say one of the dumbest things I probably could.
“I texted you. Back in July.”
His eyes flick to Aspen for a brief moment. “Yeah, I got it.”
Damn.
In those first few days back from camp, still very much in my feelings, I sat on my bed and typed out the longest text imaginable to Keene; both an apology and explanation. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect his forgiveness from a stupid text alone, but I certainly didn’t anticipate him purposely ignoring it either.
Then again, wasn’t that exactly what I deserved?
“Okay, great. Um, well, what I really wanna reiterate is how sorry I am about what happened last spring. What I did—outing the both of you—was wrong. Fucked-up. There’s no doubt about that, and I want you both to know I see that.” My gaze flicks from Keene to Aspen and back again, unable to read either of their expressions. “There’s no excuse, so I’m not going to downplay it or try to give you a reason for how I acted. But I do want you to know I’m not that person anymore.”
The two of them remain silent long after I finish speaking, or at least, that’s how it feels until Aspen finally responds.
“So what I’m hearing is,” he starts in a slow, even tone with his sapphire eyes trained on me, “you expect us to believe you’ve just suddenly turned over a new leaf from being a complete and utter dick for the better part of a year?”
“Pen—”
“No, Kee,” Aspen cuts in, glancing at Keene before pointing at me. “He’s the fucking reason everything went to shit, all right? The reason we just went through hell all summer. The reason I almost lost you.”
“He might’ve been a catalyst—”
“That’s such bullshit,” Aspen mutters with a scoff, but Keene quickly pins him with a glare.
“Really? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Avery held you at gunpoint until you left the state for weeks on end. Without a word.” Despite Keene’s even tone, Aspen winces, and it’s clear I’m missing a chapter about the effects of my actions. But it’s also obvious there’s more to it than just my involvement; a fact that Keene proves when he tacks on, “You and I are just as at fault for us falling apart last spring as he is.”
I feel slightly better by having this information—only slightly—and it’s short lived when Keene’s attention returns to me.
“But you’re right about one thing: What you did was fucked-up.”
My teeth sink into my cheek, and as I hold Keene’s mahogany gaze, a deeper sense of regret floods my chest. To the point where it might as well be an anvil pressing down on my ribs.
Because, as much as I will take the blame for the mistakes I’ve made, I’m getting tired of hearing that phrase from people. From myself too.
“There aren’t enough words to express how sorry I am,” I manage past the knot that’s lodged itself in my throat. “I might’ve laid out my reasoning behind my actions earlier this summer when I texted you, but in the end, I know they’re all excuses for the shittiest, most cowardly thing I’ve ever done.”
They both remain silent, their gazes locked on me. Aspen’s is still very much a scrutinizing glare, filled with heat and outrage, but Keene’s has shifted, regarding me with more curious contemplation than wariness now.
“What brought this on?” the latter finally asks.
Spending weeks in the forest falling in love with a person I want to be worthy of.
“I’ve done a lot of work on myself this summer,” I go with instead, mostly because explaining every clandestine detail of my summer with Kaleb will take way too long. “Like I said, I’m not the same person who outed you or said all those vile things to you last year. At least, I really don’t want to be. The first way I could think of to prove it was by taking responsibility for my actions and apologizing. Face-to-face.”
There’s another unbearable silence, covering us like a weighted blanket, but I restrain myself from breaking it and sit in the discomfort of the moment instead.
God knows I forced them into one far worse.
“You are different,” my ex-teammate confirms eventually.
I drag my gaze up to find him staring at me with intrigue, but it’s quickly yanked away by Aspen’s scoff.
“Kee, you can’t actually believe—”
“I can, actually,” Keene snaps, his voice sharpening for the first time. “You think you’re the only person who can do a little soul searching and come out the other side with a new perspective?”
“No, but—”
Keene glares up at him, halting his thought mid-sentence. “If you deserve forgiveness, don’t you think he might too?”
“I don’t deserve it,” I break in, my gaze flicking from one to the other. “After treating you both the way I did, forgiveness is the last thing I deserve. That’s why I’m not asking for it. But if you’re willing to offer it, then I’m going to prove myself worthy of it.”
In reality, I know this is only the first step of many to make amends for what I’ve done to them. No amount of apologizing can reverse what I did that day, and it definitely can’t give them back the time they lost because of it.
That’s a feeling I know better than anything.
“I’m just glad I didn’t ruin what the two of you have,” I find myself uttering, guilt weighing down my chest. “It’s rare to find someone who you can be yourself with. Who you can trust with anything, your heart included. And that’s what haunts me most of all; knowing I could’ve cost you that.”
Keene’s head cants to the side while he stares at me, a slow smile creeping onto his face.
“He did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Aspen glances at his boyfriend, dark brows drawing down in confusion. “What the fuck are—”
“Babe, not right now,” Keene cuts in, motioning with his hand for Aspen to stop talking. Which makes Aspen’s icy eyes flare, though I can’t tell if it’s still with fury or something a little more…sensual.
Keene doesn’t notice, though. He’s still staring at me, waiting for a response.
If I was questioning whether or not Kaleb had spoken to him about us, all of that is gone now. And, truthfully, I don’t mind one bit if he—or anyone else for that matter—knows.
Having Kaleb is the only thing I care about; the rest is just noise.
Smiling like a fool, I drop my gaze to the ground between my feet and nod. “Yeah, he fucked me up pretty good. In the best way possible.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here talking to us?”
My head snaps up, finding Keene’s gaze still locked on me.
His question takes a moment to truly sink in, the hidden meaning within it becoming more and more clear when a small smirk lifts his mouth at the corner. Pair it with the gleam in his eyes, and the unspoken intention may as well be a neon billboard with flashing lights.
Go get your man.
An easy smile of my own forms, and I rise from the bench, ready to do just that. But before I walk away, I stop myself, having one more thing to say.
“Thank you.”
He gives me a faint nod, brow arched in challenge. “Don’t screw it up.”
Never again. Not in a million years.
“Did I miss something?” Aspen mutters under his breath just as I start toward my car.
I hear Keene’s low chuckle before he says, “Yeah, but it’s not my story to tell.”
Warmth floods me instantly, despite the statement not being meant for my ears. Because it’s still for my benefit, even when he doesn’t owe me a damn thing.
I was cruel, hateful, and the worst kind of human to them both, and most people wouldn’t hesitate to return the favor. They’d take their knowledge and fight fire with fire, letting the power it holds destroy anything in its path.
Instead, he tucks it in his back pocket for safekeeping.
If that isn’t forgiveness, I don’t know what is.