Page 79 of Thorns and Ashes
“You’re a rose, beautiful and fragile. Soft in all the right ways and strong enough to stand alone. But knowing that hasn’t helped you. It’s made you forget that you don’t have to.”
Her breath catches, and her watery eyes bounce between mine.
“You’ve let those thorns grow until even you don’t know what’s buried underneath. And it makes sense. You’ve been surrounded all your life by people who were waiting for you to fail.” I point to the now-empty table where her “friends” sat. “Hoping for it by the looks of things. Careful that those thorns don’t keep the people who want to be there for you away.”
She swallows hard. Her eyes widen, yet her brows remain furrowed. Slowly, her head begins to shake. “Can you blame me? Look what happened when I trusted you.”
Her words are direct and hit their mark. Good. She should be angry with me.
I’m an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but the words sound empty even to me.
She scoffs. “Whatever.”
“I took everything,” I blurt out before she can walk away.
This stops her.
I take in a deep breath and continue. “Everything I’ve been feeling. Every fucked up emotion, and I took it out on you.” My throat tightens. “I used you. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I wanted that!” she snaps.
I jerk back, frowning. “Why?”
Her face scrunches, and she looks up to the sky before looking back over me. “Somehow, I’m the one who feels dumb that you even have to ask.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
Tris rolls her eyes and leaves me standing here staring after her. Rory wraps her arm around her as she reaches the door, and I drop back into my chair, caught somewhere in a daze.
“That was rough,” Tom mutters after a minute of us sitting together in silence.
I blink a few times at him, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Tom sighs. “You really are terrible at this.”
“Shut up, Tom. I don’t need this right now.”
“Trust me, you do, because you’re obviously horrible at realizing when a woman has actual feelings for you. Specifically, Tris.”
“Yeah, those feelings are hatred.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t hatred.”
I keep replaying our conversation in my mind like a punishment that I won’t let myself escape. Every word, the look on her face. It spins in my head, still raw and jagged, and the worst part is... Tom might be right. I’ve spent the last month drowning in guilt, convincing myself I used her, then had the gall to accuseher of being the one to keep people at a distance. I told myself she didn’t know how to let people in, that she didn’t want to. But sitting here now, with the echo of her voice lodged in my chest, the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears, I see it.
That’s exactly what she wanted from me.
Not distance. Not just friendship.
She wanted in, and I’ve been too damn scared and buried with my ghosts to give her the one thing she’s wanted all along.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuckkk.” My head drops into my hands.
“There it is,” Tom drawls.
Ainsley carries our food out in a to-go bag with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Tom. It’s nothin’ personal, but it’s already been a long mornin’.” Her eyes slide over me, lingering for half a second before she sighs and looks back at him. “He’s gotta go.”
