Page 92 of Bean

He held up a hand with a bitter laugh. “It’s not you. It’s me?Really?”

“I got things twisted and…” Glancing away, I let out a frustrated growl. “I really care about you.”

He laughed bitterly. Angrily. “Right. Where have I heard that before?”

“I didn’t mean for it to get this far, Bean. Really. But I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry. It’s…I’m sorry.” It was all I could say. This time, when I turned and fled the house, he didn’t follow.

And somehow, irrationally, the fact that he didn’t follow hurt the worst of all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

BEAN

Something had happened.

I wished I could remember what.

I’d gotten used to the never-relenting sensation that I was forgetting something that could possibly be important. That came with the territory when one had a TBI and a crappy memory.

But this was different. Jarek had pulled back suddenly, and I’d been left hurting and frustrated, trying to remember what I’d done wrong. I must’ve said something, done something, right? He wouldn’t ghost me for no reason.

I’d texted him over twenty times in the week since I’d last seen him, and he hadn’t responded to any of them. They showed up as read, which was a small consolation that at least he was reading them, but why was he not responding?

I had messed up somehow, and more than anything, I wanted to make it right. But how could I do that when I didn’t know what I’d done wrong?

“Does it feel like you guys had a fight?” Heath asked. We’d finished dinner, and the guys were trying to help me remember, which was sweet yet torture at the same time.

I shook my head. “I made a note when I was in my car that he said he got things twisted and that it was him, not me. I would’ve written it down if we’d had an actual fight.”

“Maybe you didn’t have the chance,” Nash offered. “Maybe you had a fight, then made up and went to bed right away, and you forgot.”

I sighed. “Maybe.”

I wasn’t convinced. Something else had happened.

I buried my head in my hands, tears burning behind my eyelids. “I hate my brain.”

“What was that?” Tameron asked.

Right. He couldn’t hear me when he couldn’t see me.

“He said he hates his brain,” Creek said, helping me out. “Which I can imagine because it fucking sucks. I’d be so pissed off too.”

One thing I loved about Creek is that you always knew where you stood with him. He didn’t have much of a filter, and while that was embarrassing sometimes, it was also convenient in situations like this. Anyone else would’ve told me I shouldn’t say that about myself, but not Creek.

“Thank you. You’re right. It does suck.” Fury filled me so suddenly that it took my breath away. Why had this happened to me? Why had the careless actions of one guy caused so much pain and trauma to all of us? It was so unfair.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled. “It’s so not fair.”

Creek repeated my words to Tameron, and I was grateful. I didn’t want to exclude Tameron, but I didn’t have it in me right now to face them, to let them see my tear-filled eyes and the pain that had to be written all over my face.

Another wave of anger rolled over me, and it was all I could feel, sucking the hope and joy I’d experienced with Jarek right out of me. Now, I’d never feel that way again. No one wouldever accept me again the way he had, with all my quirks and limitations.

I loved him…and I’d lost him for reasons I still didn’t know.

I finally looked up. “That was my one chance at love, and I blew it.”

“You don’t know that,” Tameron said. “Maybe Jarek truly meant that it was him and not you, that something changed for him?”