Chapter 11

You’ve never had to say you’re sorry before. You’re not even sure you know how.

He’s waiting. Maybe he thinks you’re going to hit him again. You don’t want to—his eyes are rimmed with a sadness you put there. You hate that, look what you’re doing to him. So you’re not at the damn beach, get over it. You have a boy who’s willing to let you love him and that’s why you came here, isn’t it? To get a piece of him, not to hurt him—you’re not into that.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, but it comes out insincere and ineffectual, almost a question you hope he can answer. A voice inside whispers you can abort now and come back in on a different unit—he won’t remember this unless you want him to.

Only it’s not working that way anymore, is it? Chances are you’ll come back right here, with that judgmental look in his eyes, the one you don’t like, and he’ll want to know why you left. “I’m sorry,” you try again. It still doesn’t sound quite right.