Page 109 of Diving In
“I said things I can’t take back. Things I didn’t mean. I hurt her, and then I left her alone to deal with it. I destroyed the longestfriendship I’d ever had because I was a coward. And instead of working on myself or talking to her, I just… vanished.”
My voice cracks on the last word.
Josh sets down the dish he’s holding and leans against the counter beside me.
“Hey.” He grips my shoulder. “You can’t change what happened. But you’re here now.”
I give him a half-smile, before going to the table and grabbing the rest of the glasses, buying myself a moment to think.
“I don’t know if she loves me anymore.”
It’s been so long now. She told me she loved me in Rio, but it’s been years and years of my mistakes since then. Of a distanceIcreated.
“I don’t think you and Kath know how tonotlove one another,” Josh says quietly.
I let his words sink in. He’s right about me at least. Loving Kath is the one thing I’ve never been uncertain about.
“And I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” he continues. “Even now, not just back then. She relaxes when you’re around, she smiles more, she just looks…. happier.”
“That doesn't mean she loves me.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it doesn't mean she doesn't, either.”
He hands me another dish.
“When we were younger, I don’t think she ever let herself like you in that way. Because you were always going on about not wanting a girlfriend. But when it became a possibility, I think something changed. You should speak to her, tell her how you feel. You don’t want to miss the opportunity.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him. “But I have a lot of making up to do. A lifetime of it.”
“I mean it when I say she sounds better now than she has done in months,” he says seriously. “I just want you both to be happy.”
I nod. I just need to work out where to start.
Chapter 48
Twenty-six years old
Kath
When we arrived in San Francisco, we were both exhausted. But “Pirates never get jet lag” according to Sam, so we smiled through it and spent two days sightseeing.
After a fun day road-tripping a little further up the coast, the pair of us sit at a wine bar, people watching, each nursing a glass of wine. Life feels easy again. Sam was right. I physically felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest as our flight took off.
His suggestion about me seeing one of the hospital counsellors was also exactly what I needed. It made me realise how much I’d been bottling up, and how many unhealthy coping mechanisms I’d quietly collected. It was only when I stopped to look that I realised I’d started pulling away from people without even noticing. Analysing those feelings also makes me understand more about why Sam did what he did. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, even though now I can see that it wasn’t.
I glance over. He’s smiling into the sun. We could be fourteen on the beach at Sidmouth again, if not for the slightly sharper angle of his jaw, the darkening of his sandy blond hair and the stubble on his chin.
Other than work and burnout, that’s the main thing I’ve been discussing with the counsellor. Forgiveness. Love. When you’re brave enough to divein again, and how to start unravelling fifteen years of tangled feelings without cutting the whole thing to pieces. And there are so many threads, threads of memories and experiences we’ve shared. I’ve grown up loving him. It’s stitched into the very fabric of my being, etched into my bones.
Even though I spent years training myself not to love him, it never worked. But loving him and trusting him with my heart aren’t the same thing. The question now is whether the boy sitting beside me is still the same one who broke my heart.
I’m starting to think he isn’t.
“Do you want to see our itinerary?” Sam asks, breaking the silence. “I’ve channelled my inner thirteen-year-old Kath and created a timetable with highlighters.”
“I loved those summers.” I grin.
“I don’t think I have quite as many highlighters as you did. But pretty close.”
