Page 73 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
My back rested against her chest, my head in the crook of her neck. The tension drained from my muscles. If only I never had to leave this bathtub. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Why not?”
“You just didn’t strike me as the kind of girl who’d have them is all.”
“I’m not,” she said after a moment. “You’re right. The truth is, I think they can be beautiful, but they seem very exotic and forbidden to me. Something for people who are braver than I am.”
“Why? Are you scared it will hurt?”
“No, not exactly. More like I’d be scared of what people would think about me.”
“Fuck people.”
She sighed again. “Muffy would die.”
“No, Margot. She wouldn’t.”
“Maybe not. But she’d think I’d gone crazy.”
“So let her. Don’t spend your life worried about what people think of you, Margot. That kind of fear is like a cage—it will trap you forever if you’re not careful.”
She didn’t speak right away. Then a question. “What are you scared of?”
I didn’t answer, because I knew I’d say too much. She was too soft, too sweet, too warm tonight. It would be too easy to tell her things she didn’t need to hear, too selfish of me to reveal things just to share the burden of my truths. She’d only try to reassure me I wasn’t the monster I thought I was, just like Steph had done.
But it would feel so good.
“Probably nothing, right?” She squeezed me. “You’re a big tough soldier. Not scared of anything.”
I spoke without thinking. “I’m scared of becoming unrecognizable.”
A pause. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. What the fuck was I doing? I even tried to get up, but she held me in place, wrapping her legs around me from behind.
“What would make you unrecognizable, Jack?”
Exhaling, I allowed myself to surrender, just a little. Just this once. “Letting go.”
“Of what?”
“My past.”
“You don’t have to let go of your past—it will always be part of who you are. But you don’t have to let it shackle you, or prevent you from moving on.”
Yes, I do. She didn’t know, didn’t understand.
“Hey.” She squeezed me again. “Talk to me.”
God help me, I wanted to. My secrets were pushing up against the underside of my heart so hard I thought my chest might burst open with them. I wanted to admit my guilt. Open my wounds. Bleed for her.
The temptation overwhelmed me. “The accident. It was my fault.”
“I don’t understand.”
I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Steph’s accident.”
“What are you talking about? You weren’t driving the car that hit her.”
