“The one you’ve been living the past two years,” I accused. “I didn’t ask; you didn’t tell.”

My words hit him harder than my fist. I could see it in the way he flinched.

“You were wrong not to tell me.”

His chin dropped to his chest, the picture of shame.

It wasn’t enough. I wanted answers, not regret. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared.”

I rose and walked forward until I could feel his breath on my face. “Of what?”

He leaned toward me, resting his forehead against mine. “Losing you. We’re the perfect couple, right? What would I do without you, Quinn? You hold me together.”

I sighed. I knew what he meant. Once, during a football game, he’d taken a hard blow to the head from a huge linebacker. For a while, the doctors thought Carey might have some permanent vision damage. He’d been destroyed, thinking he wouldn’t be able to enlist after graduation. I’d held his hand through that crisis and others. We’d always gotten each other in a way others didn’t, even before we started dating. I couldn’t imagine losing him.

“Idiot.”

“I’ll apologize until you forgive me. You’ll see how I wear you down.”

And he would, too. Like water against stone. My insides twisted in a kaleidoscope of disappointment, anger, and sadness. Each emotion crystalline in its intensity, but no one emotion stronger than the others. My own reaction confused me. One thing was clear: I felt stupid.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do I have a target on my back? A sign that says ‘This loser’s gullible’?” I sounded pathetic. But how could I not have seen it?

Carey stroked my hair, tugging on a strand. “It wasn’t like that, Quinn. It took me a long time to accept that this isn’t something I can wish away or shut off. If I could choose anyone, it would be you.”

“Except you’re not attracted to me.”

“That’s not really a choice.”

I stepped away from him, but he tugged on my hand and continued, “Besides, if you’re honest, I think it goes both ways.”

I was quiet for the longest time. Yesterday, I would have denied his words until I was blue in the face. Then last night happened. Blake happened. His arms and the spidery thrill that webbed through me when his fingers trailed over my skin.

I’d never felt that for Carey.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. At his dark hair and dark eyes. Handsome and confident. His sturdy strength appealed to me, but that wasn’t the same as attraction. ‘Security’ wasn’t a word that made my heart beat faster.

His brows raised as he read my face. “Wow. You really don’t want me.”

I considered telling him about Blake, but part of me rebelled. The memory of our night together belonged to me, and I wasn’t willing to share it. But if I chose to tell anyone, it would have been Carey. When something happened to me, small or big, I told him. He was my person. Somehow, his revelation shifted everything except that. The knowledge came over me in a slow, painful crawl.

He’d hurt my pride and my feelings. I could punish him for hurting me. Or I could try to move past this.

Carey’s fingers sweated in mine. My silence made him nervous. I could feel it. Stepping outside myself, I tried to understand him. How scared he’d been to tell me the truth. How scared he still was that I’d reject him, despite his best efforts.

How much was our friendship worth to me?

I finally answered his question. “Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you really are ugly as sin.”

I’d surprised him into a laugh. “Shut up, Quinn.”

“No, seriously,” I protested. “Think Shrek. You’re like a half-step removed from being his ogre twin.”

My voice was muffled by his chest as he pulled me into a bear hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. I rested against him, letting my tears dampen his T-shirt, finally letting go of what I’d thought we would become. Marriage, kids, all of it gone. I thought maybe he cried too, as he held me. Neither of us spoke for the longest time. It felt a little like someone had died, and he was the only one I would want to comfort me.

When I knew I could speak without falling apart, I pulled away and wiped my nose on my sleeve. I desperately wished I had a tissue.

Carey lifted a corner of his shirt and wiped my eyes. “Please forgive me,” he pleaded.

I sniffed as he mopped up the mess I’d made of my face. “I hate you,” I said again, without anger.

And we both knew that I meant the opposite.

Chapter Twenty-Three

We talked for two hours after that.

I yelled at him some more. Backed into a corner, he lashed out and then apologized for lashing out. And then apologized again for lying. At one point, I actually kicked him in the shin and he swore at me. Then I asked him how he knew he was gay. I tried to put myself in his shoes, and when I did that, I could understand why he wouldn’t come out. Not in our town.

We talked, but I wasn’t ready to hear about the guy he had feelings for. Nor did I try to tell him about Blake. That would have snapped the tenuous hold we had on our friendship, so we danced around those topics.

After we both cried again, I tried to convince him to give me his shirt to use as a Kleenex. It was his fault I was crying, right? When he refused and handed me a leaf instead, I punched him in the ribs. I remember thinking how much I would miss him when he deployed.