“Itis!” I fire back, my anger rising. “You can’t seem to keep your head straight!”
“I’msorryI kissed you and ruined everything, okay? I’m sorry! But the thing with Luc hasnothingto do with you.”
“Itdoes!” I step toward her, and she immediately steps back, bumping into the side of the gondola with a soft thud. “Because you matter to me, Alaina! And I’m not going to just stand here and watch you crash and burn while I do nothing.”
She flinches at my words, or my intensity, I don’t know which, but neither option is good.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face, trying to steady the fire clawing up my throat. “I just mean, no one should be kissing you right now. Not when you’re like this.”
Not when you’re barely holding it together, and the hurt sits so close to the surface I can see it in every breath you take.
Her eyes narrow, but her voice is soft with hurt now. “Then why did you kiss me?”
“Why do you think, Alaina?” I bite out.
She blinks, looking confused, like she’s trying to figure out whether I just said what she thinks I said, and for a second, I wonder too.
What the fuck am I even doing here?
I look down at the bruised flower in my hand. Breathing hard, I close my eyes and remember when the world was safe. When Alaina sat cross-legged in the grass, threading stems together.
When I finally gather the courage to open my eyes to this other world again, the one where I only hurt the people I care most about, her eyes are dulled.
Empty.
“I found this.” I hold the flower out to her. “And it reminded me of you.” Her eyes flick to the flower warily, but she takes it, the tips of her fingers brushing mine.
She doesn’t speak, just stares at the battered bloom in her hand, raindrops still beading along the petals.
“For the last seven years, every flower has reminded me of you.” I laugh brokenly, resting my hands on top of my head, tugging my hair until it hurts, then letting it go. “And as you know, in our line of work, flowers are fucking everywhere. Growing right off the edge of cliffs like they don’t know what fear is. Just like you.”
I step closer to her. “I wondered how you’d be now, what you’d be like, and honestly, Alaina, I could have never imagined.”
“You thought I’d left this behind,” she says tonelessly. “That I was just somewhere living a normal life. Whole. Not broken into pieces.”
I shake my head. “That’s not it. You’re so damn beautiful and one of a kind. In every field of daisies and clover with all those wildflowers you used to name for me, half of which I’ve already forgotten, you’re a blue cornflower. Impossible to ignore.” I take a shaky breath. “You’re special.”
There’s no stopping this now that I’ve started, so I barrel on.
“The fact that you’re ten years younger and Dane’s little sister terrifies me, but that’s not what keeps me up at night, waking up in a cold sweat. It’s not what makes me feel like I need to put a wall between us.”
I take a shuddering breath, then say what I need to.
“You’re not okay, baby girl, and whatever I could give you… I’m afraid it wouldn’t be enough.” I scoff, kicking my foot on the floor of the gondola. “No. I know it wouldn’t be because I’m not worth shit. I don’t have anything after this, and no clue what I’m going to do with myself. No money, no backup plan. Biking is all I’ve ever had, and even that’sslipping through my fingers.”
Her lips part as she looks me dead on, but I can’t seem to stop.
“You know I went straight into racing after high school and never went to college. I never learned anything else, and I’m not born for greatness like you. I was born to just be good enoughfor now, and then I’ll be forgotten.” I look her dead in the eyes. “I’mnot good enoughfor you, Alaina.”
“That’s not true,” she protests, stubborn as always.
I shake my head, huffing a bitter laugh. “I know you never saw the truth. You’ve always looked at me like I’m some kind of hero, but like you said, you’re an adult now, and you need to take the damn rose-colored glasses off. All I ever can be is mediocre.”
She frowns, looking angry.
I’m angry at myself too.
What the fuck am I even doing here?
