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I pause. Because I don’t know how to articulate what I’m feeling. Angela has been the one thing, in my entire life, that I haven’t ever been able to process. To intellectualize and sweep away. To think my way through. My feelings for her just sit there inside me, a tangled, aching mess.
“I wish I could cut myself open and show you,” I say.
Hesitation flashes across her face, a brief moment where her poker face slips.
“Not good enough,” she says, pursing her lips slightly. “You have to be able to tell me how you feel.”
It’s a fair test. But not one I’m sure I can pass.
An idea forms in my head. One that could go disastrously wrong, but might be my only real chance at fixing things with her. Because it’s clear that despite how well we were getting along last night, she still resents me.
“Can you give me until the end of our time here on Isle North?” I ask.
“To do what?”
“To make things right between us,” I say. “Just…let me try to make it up to you. If I can’t get you to forgive me by the time we go back to Harborview, I promise I’ll let it rest. I’ll never ask you about it again and I’ll stop—I’ll stop baiting you so much.”
She considers the request for a moment, thinking it over carefully I’m sure, like she does with everything. It’s part of why I fell so hard for her back then—so many people are reckless and stupid, going through life without ever really thinking about what decisions they’re making and where they’re going. But not Angela. Everything she does, she does because she thinks it’s the right thing to do.
“Fine.”
And then she heads into the bathroom, presumably because it’s the only other room in the cabin and she wants to get away from me. But at least she agreed to what I proposed. At least I have a chance. So here’s to hoping we stay on Isle North for the rest of the week—because if we’re back in Harborview tomorrow, I’m screwed.
11
ANGELA
I siton the toilet in the tiny, dank bathroom and think about what I just agreed to. In truth, I mostly said yes because I know that even if I truly forgive Carter for what he did, I won’t be able to get rid of all the other issues I have. It won’t matter if he makes things right between us, because when it comes to dating,I’mnot right. I can’t even casually date someone without immediately fearing abandonment.
It’s not like I’ve been holding on to hatred for Carter for the last seven years. Well, maybe a little bit, if I’m being honest. But the rational side of my brain definitely knows that his actions back then were the actions of an immature twenty-year-old. And if I hadn’t been so in love with him since high school—something he didn’t know about—it wouldn’t have hurt so badly. Carter probably just thought that the week we spent together was a casual thing, and that’s okay.
I don’t need to torture myself by going down that road again—it’s one I’ve been down a thousand times and I’m done trying to fill in the blanks of how Carter thinks and feels. Like I told him, he has to be able to tell mehimself.Even if the prospect of hearing that truth fills me with dread.
Filled with resolve, I leave the bathroom. Carter is staring out the window. Since that’s the only activity to do in here, I start rifling through the kitchen cabinets instead.
What I find surprises me. Yes, there’s the tea and instant coffee that we had this morning. But there are also a few packs of ramen noodles, a bag of microwavable rice, some beef jerky, and, to my delight, a bottle of whiskey.
“Jackpot,” I say, pulling it out. “Carter, look what I found.”
He turns to face me in his chair, and I don’t miss the way his eyes travel up my body before landing on my face.
“I didn’t know you were a whiskey girl, Angela Burns,” he says, and I have to suppress a shiver at hearing my full name from his mouth.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Carter Steel.”
“Good thing I’m an excellent student and a quick study,” he volleys back.
He has that smug look on his face, but his eyes are also twinkling and I can tell that he’s genuinely having fun…flirting with me.
Because that’s what we’re doing. We’re flirting.
“Teacher’s pet?” I say.
“No,” he says, “but I can be your pet if you want me to.”
I roll my eyes at his obvious come-on. “What a line, Carter. Can’t you do any better than that?”
“Give me some of that whiskey and I’m sure I can.”
