Christina Lee - Whisper to Me

My fingers reached across the table to comfort him, but they fell short. He should’ve been comforting me, damn it. Not the other way around. I quickly wiped a tear from my eye, so he didn’t see it spill over.

“No, Miles.” I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was driving the damn thing, Rachel,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m the one who was being careless. I caused the accident.”

Honestly, the revelation that he’d felt that much remorse took me by surprise. I mean, Shane felt guilty about his bike—but his guilt had looked different. Shane didn’t just fucking walk away.

“Don’t you see?” His voice was muffled by his hands. “Not only did I feel guilty about wanting to break up with you. I also had the shame of the accident.”

Those words delivered a powerful punch straight to my gut. I was surprised I wasn’t hunched over dry heaving or something.

“Got it,” I mumbled, tasting bile in the back of my throat.

I couldn’t remember a time I had felt lower as a human than waking up in the hospital, unable to speak or use my limbs. I felt my bottom lip quivering and clamped my teeth down on it. I was so close to losing it. To letting all my sorrow burst free.

“I’m so damn sorry, Rachel,” he said, lifting his head. “Please, believe me.”

I said nothing in return, maybe secretly wanting to prolong his torture.

And then fury, disappointment, and agony bubbled to the surface as I stared at his perfectly shaved head and starched collar.

What a fuck stick. A goddamn motherfucking fuck stick. Plain and simple.

And if I truly had been half the girl I pretended to be at TSU, I would have said that out loud.

For everyone in the entire universe to hear.

But he was only being honest. And I probably should’ve respected him for that. My anger deflated and then dissipated as my own pride and humiliation won out.

He had put it all on the line, never mincing words. He could have left out the bit about how he’d felt about me and just worked the guilt angle. But no, he was pouring it all out in front of me. Every last bit of his ugly words—his ugly truth.

I wanted to stomp on it and bury it deep within my subconscious.

Maybe he’d actually done me a favor. Had he hung in there with me, I probably wouldn’t have fought so hard. After all, the tears and the wallowing, the heartache and the shame did a hell of a lot to spur me on. Along with having my life hanging in the balance.

“What made you decide to tell me all of this now?” I said, trying to compose myself yet again and failing miserably. “Why wait three years, make me go through hell wondering what in the fuck was going through your head?”

“I was immature. I didn’t have the balls.” His eyes leveled on me. “I’d like to think that I’ve got myself together and am now admitting to my mistakes.”

At the cost of my feelings, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. Because on the one hand, I was grateful to truly know what he’d been thinking. I’d always wondered. Hell, I had killed myself wondering. And one day soon, it would sting less.

“I just didn’t feel like I could go on any longer without telling you how deeply sorry I am.” I saw his eyes skate over my shoulder to something behind me and I wondered just who or what he was looking at. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” I blinked at him. He wanted me to absolve him.

And it should have been a profound moment between us as he waited for my answer. Except that he stole a look behind me again. This time I turned in the direction he had just glanced only to see a blond girl subtly shaking her head at him. “Who in the hell are you looking at?”

“Damn it, Rachel. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “That’s . . . Melanie. She’s . . . a friend and she’s kind of here for moral support.”

I considered flinging my drink in his face, but then thought better of it when I spotted Dakota in my peripheral vision, rounding the corner on her way to the other bar on the opposite side of the casino. Hadn’t I also come seeking moral support from my friends?

“Please, don’t be upset. She encouraged me to talk to you. And . . . being around her helped me figure out that maybe I have stronger feelings for her than I’d realized.” And now he looked love-sick, and I wanted to punch him in the face. “Ha . . . haven’t you been dating anyone, Rachel?”

Nope, just sleeping around with every Tom, Dick, and Jock to get you out of my head. How pathetic. He might actually be moving on to a significant relationship, and I’d done nothing more than have meaningless flings.

I stood up, wanting to get as far away from him as possible—and I had never felt that way about him before. But I didn’t want to be in his space any longer. Not one goddamn minute more.

The truth of it made my knees feel weak. I grasped at the edge of the table.

“I need to go. Thanks for baring your fucking soul,” I spat out as his mouth hung open. “Have a nice life.” Asshole.

Rachel looked visibly shaken. Miles seemed shell-shocked as well. Fuck, what the hell had the two of them discussed? My shift was just about over, so it was the perfect time to make sure she was okay.

But as I picked up my pace in switching over the drawer to the next cashier on duty, I saw Rachel head toward Dakota and Shane, who were already seated at the other lounge across the way.

I looked around the casino to see if I could spot Miles, as my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to follow him and break his fucking nose. But I was too late. He had slipped out the main entrance with the blond I’d seen earlier at the roulette table. Besides, another fistfight wouldn’t go over well with my father, especially in his casino.

As soon as Rachel reached Dakota, my sister pulled her into a tight hug and then tried to steady her shaking hands. That only made me work faster.

I tried to look as casual as possible walking to the table, not like I was ready to yank Rachel into my arms and comfort her.

Except Sam cut me off at the pass. He must have just gotten off his shift at the blackjack table.

“Kai, I wanted to tell you about the visiting hours at the hospital.”

“Okay, right,” I said, turning toward him. “Of course.”

Rachel twisted in her seat at the sound of my voice. “Sam, this is my friend, Rachel.”

“Hi, Sam,” Rachel said, her lips lifting at the corners. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a slight bow. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Sam’s grandson Micah is at Northeast Community Hospital,” I explained. “He’s in bad shape right now awaiting a heart transplant.”

Different emotions passed through Rachel’s eyes. Sadness, sympathy, and maybe understanding.

“Thought I’d bring my guitar to the hospital and play some tunes for him or something.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Rachel said, her mouth turned down in a frown. “But Kai here is the perfect person to visit Micah. He’s great company.”

She gave me a disarming smile and then waved as Sam said his good-byes.

In a rush of emotion, I placed my hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear. “Hey. Everything okay?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

Dakota and Shane didn’t look like they believed her. They sat silently staring at her, Dakota swirling her straw in her drink and Shane’s eyes moving from my face to Rachel’s.

I took the seat next to Rachel as she gulped from her new margarita glass. “Whoa, lush. How many drinks is that?”

“Only my second,” she said. “But I could use a shot.”

Dakota’s mouth hung open as if she’d never seen her friend drink before. But maybe she was just concerned Rachel would get drunk, and then she’d bolt on us like she had the other night from Shane’s party.

“C’mon, you guys. Lighten up,” Rachel said to them. And then to me, “You got a cigarette?”

I cracked a smile. “You take up smoking all of a sudden?”

“I could use one right now,” she said, and then muttered, “Unless you’ve got something stronger.”

“This from the person who tried to make a deal with me to quit?” That got another smile out of her. “Nah, I’ve been trying to lay off.”

Her eyes beamed like the fucking sun or something, and I got lost in their orbit. “Oh yeah, you got something to prove?”

“Damn straight,” I said. “To a lot of people.”

It was my way of telling her that she’d had some influence over me, despite my needing to quit because of my parents’ threat about the casino drug policy. But truth be told, I hadn’t been this clear-headed in days. Maybe in months.

I caught Jimmy’s eye from behind the bar and motioned to him for a cancer stick. “Jimmy will hook you up.”

I walked over to the bar, ordered four shots, a Jack and Coke, and then grabbed the cigarette and lighter from him. I made two trips back to the table with our drinks, sat down, and picked up my shot glass. “Cheers.”

“To good friends,” Dakota said before gulping down her shot.

After I downed my drink I brought the cigarette to my lips, lighting it for Rachel. I noticed the way she stared at my lips, and I hoped she was thinking the same thing I was. About getting lost in each other later tonight.

And I also hoped we weren’t too obvious in front of my sister and my best friend. But when I looked up, I saw they were too busy making small talk across the table to notice.

Even though I’d warned Shane not to touch my sister with a ten-foot pole, I was feeling more and more fraudulent. Who the hell was I to dictate whom someone wanted to hook up with?

Still, the idea of my best friend and my sister together made me nauseous. Especially after I’d heard stories from him my whole life about the different girls he’d had and what he’d done with them. I mean, he was definitely a decent guy—the best, actually.

But I couldn’t stomach the idea of them hooking up, especially when someone was bound to come away with a broken heart. I shook away the thought of that exact same scenario going down between Rachel and me.

I handed her the lit cigarette, and our fingers brushed against one another briefly, sending a low-voltage current through me. She bought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. Something about her putting her mouth right where mine had been made me horny as hell.

“So, what the hell did Miles say?” Dakota said, finally asking the question we all wanted answered.

“If he said something to hurt you or even worse—” I started to say, but Rachel shot me a scathing look to shut me up.

“I don’t need you taking up for me anymore, asshead,” she said in the tone I’d come to find affectionate over the years. “But thanks anyway.”

“Fine, Shelly.” I emphasized the word, and she rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, just tell us what happened already.”

She deadpanned and then shook her head, a hint of amusement playing along her lips. “Geez, we just talked . . . about what happened after my accident.”

I bit my tongue and ground my feet into the floor. I was liable to run out of the building on an all-out manhunt and never hear her explanation.

The table fell silent, waiting. We’d always been open like this with one another, but Rachel seemed reserved today. Nervous, even. She had already shredded the napkin in front of her and was now working on mine, her lit cigarette wasting away in the ashtray.

Was it because of what we’d been doing behind closed doors or was it that the conversation between her and Miles had been too emotional? Too brutal? She’d certainly looked a bit decimated when she left his table. As had he.

I tried to give her some reassurance by finding her thigh beneath the table and brushing against it with my fingers, but that only caused her to blush and tense up. And it only made me want to yank her against me. That dress she was wearing pushed up her cleavage, and fuck if I hadn’t just laid my eyes on those tits the other night.

She stubbed out the cigarette after being halfway done and heaved a deep sigh.

“He told me he’d been thinking a long time about why he’d done that to me.”

“And?” Shane said now, as if trying to urge her on.

“He walked away from me because he felt guilty,” she said, almost hesitantly. “Tha . . . that it had been his fault for urging me to get on that damn bike, after all.”

She moved her lips to say something else and then clamped her mouth shut. Maybe we didn’t need to hear the raw and gritty details of what two people had confessed to each other after being in a relationship. Even if it had been three years ago and in high school. I certainly didn’t want to hear any specifics, unless she needed to share them.