Page 29 of Yesterday I Cared
A quick glance at my phone confirms I did get a group message. Kat had already confirmed for both of them, Bryce made a stupid joke about already living there. Besides myself, Ronan was the only one who hadn’t answered. “Is Ronan going to be there?”
I know I’m not being fair to my friends by pushing them away in an effort to avoid Ronan, but what other choice do I have? The more we’re around one another, the greater the chance of the past coming up. I’ve kept it all quiet for this long; I’m not slipping up now.
He frowns at me. “You know he will.”
“Then you know I won’t be.”
“Are you going to make me tell your best friend, or can you be the one to disappoint her? Again.”
“Okay, ouch.” I frown. “But I’ll tell her.”
“This is getting old, Mia,” Bryce complains. “You need to find a way to let go of whatever happened. Both of you. He’s not going anywhere.”
“You know, I miss when you were still scared of me.”
“I’m still scared shitless of you.” The admission makes me smile—at least I haven’t completely lost my edge. “But I’m also your friend and I know something happened. We all know it. The two of you got along, until you didn’t.”
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. He’s calling out my lie, and he’s probably able to pinpoint exactly when the shift happened. I need to get away from this conversation. Mature, observant Bryce, is too good at figuring things out.
“You need to stop listening to your girlfriend, Bryce.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “Nothing dramatic happened. Things change. People change.”
But he’s not about to let it go. “What changed? Did he say or do something? If this is going to be a real probl—”
“It’s not a problem at all, Bryce. I’m capable of being professional around him.”
He’s not convinced. I can see it written all over his face. “I have no doubt about your professionalism, but I still think the two of you need to work this out. Whatever happened, communication is a two-way street.”
I bite back a sarcastic reply about therapy really working for him, because it’s a low blow. Sarcasm has always been my shield—a way to hide my real feelings from the rest of the world—but I don’t need to project that onto Bryce. Especially when he’s been working hard at things in his own life, and the life he shares with Josie. I refuse to poke fun at that to protect myself from my own insecurities.
I pull my bag onto my shoulder, facing my friend. “We’ll figure it out. It just might take some time.”
He nods. “Just…let me know if you need anything.”
“Of course,” I assure him. “The same goes for you, you know?”
I can see how uncomfortable the turn in the conversation has made him. A faint blush coats his cheeks and he’s refusing to look at me. “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
There’s been something slightly off about him for a couple of weeks now. Nothing that makes me worried about him and Josie, but he’s seemed lost in his own head. If there was something to worry about, Carter would know. And if Carter knew, I’d know. He has no problem calling Bryce out for being a dumbass.
So, for today, I continue to take pity on him. “I’m sure I’ll see you sometime this weekend. Have a good night, Bryce.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
On my way out, I stop by my office to grab the rest of my stuff. In a true testament to our friendship, though, Josie and I have somehow managed to balance our different aesthetics and put together a cohesive space that works well for the small space. It makes me smile every time I step through the door, like it’s real, tangible proof of our friendship.
It only takes me a couple of minutes to pack the rest of my stuff into my tote bag, but I quickly realize my water bottle is missing. The last place I’d had it was on the pool deck while I was taking some photos. Bryce had wanted to talk to me about marketing for an upcoming team fundraiser. Somehow, that conversation moved to his office and turned into a full-blown meeting. Apparently, I hadn’t remembered to grab the bottle.
I glance at the window overlooking the main pool and can barely make out Ronan, pacing the length of the pool while Emmie does a freestyle lap. Crap.
I don’t want to see Ronan right now. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him—especially since he got what he wanted and humbled me at the same time. I loathe his ability to do that.
For a moment, I consider leaving it there and getting it in the morning, but that would just make things worse. He knows it’s mine, the cute stickers done in the colors of the pan flag that cover it is a dead giveaway. If I don’t get it now, he’ll give me shit about it tomorrow.
It’d be ridiculous to endure his taunting about how I hate him so much I can’t get my water bottle. And, even worse, he’d be right.
With a groan, I gather the last of my things and trudge down the stairs. Ronan is sitting on the lowest bleacher now, elbows resting on his knees, stopwatch dangling from his neck, eyes trained on the water.
He barely glances away from his swimmer as he holds the water bottle out to me. I rapidly close the distance, taking it with a mumbled, “Thanks.” My eyes drift over to the pool, watching Emmie cover a couple of meters.
