She stubbed out the cigarette after being halfway done and heaved a deep sigh.
“He told me he’d been thinking a long time about why he’d done that to me.”
“And?” Shane said now, as if trying to urge her on.
“He walked away from me because he felt guilty,” she said, almost hesitantly. “Tha . . . that it had been his fault for urging me to get on that damn bike, after all.”
She moved her lips to say something else and then clamped her mouth shut. Maybe we didn’t need to hear the raw and gritty details of what two people had confessed to each other after being in a relationship. Even if it had been three years ago and in high school. I certainly didn’t want to hear any specifics, unless she needed to share them.
Shane tried to hide his remorse as his gaze fled to his lap, and I shook my head. Before I could say what was on the tip of my tongue, Rachel piped up. “And, Shane, you need to cut that shit out.”
His head sprang up. “Huh?”
“You feel guilty because it was your motorcycle,” she said. “Always have.”
He stared at her for another beat before nodding.
“Look, it was my choice to go for a ride. Nobody else’s,” she said, and Dakota nodded, maybe in an effort to comfort Shane. “It could’ve been anybody’s bike.”
“True,” Dakota said, starting to reach out to Shane before thinking better of it. The poor dude had tension rolling off of him in waves.
So I made an effort to lighten the mood. “Yeah, so stop beating yourself up about it. If I catch you moping anymore, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”
He cracked a smile. “I’d like to see you try, brother.” It was true—Shane was several inches taller and probably had about fifty pounds on me.
“Soooo . . .” Dakota dragged out the phrase, probably hoping Rachel would continue on her own. “How are you feeling about all of that?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said, and then ordered another drink from the server as she passed by our table. “I mean, I could tell he was being sincere.”
“Yeah?” Shane asked, looking over his shoulder as if he might see Miles somewhere in the casino.
“He said he had a hard time living with himself,” Rachel mumbled.
“He sure had a shitty way of showing it,” Shane said. “I mean, it took him long enough.”
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “But everyone deals with pain differently. Avery, my friend from college? She had some shit go down with her mom’s boyfriend when she was a teen and basically just shut everyone out of her life.”
Maybe she’d been closer with her college friends than she had let on. Or maybe she chose to share only what she wanted to.
“So what you’re saying is, you forgive him?” Dakota asked.
“I don’t know. I think I have to—so I don’t harbor this anger and sadness about him all the time.” She looked at her friend. “Don’t I?”
“Yeah, you do,” Dakota said before I could respond in the affirmative. “I mean, you’ve carried around all this baggage for the past three years, right?”
Rachel shrugged. “Yeah, mostly.”
“And you haven’t let any other guys get close,” Dakota said matter-of-factly.
I felt Rachel’s thigh tense up next to mine. Did she think she had let me get close? Or was she thinking of all of her past conquests?
“Did he say whether he wanted to see you again . . . or get back together?”
“Hell, no,” she said, steeling her jaw. “Besides, I wouldn’t want that anyway.”
“Really?” Dakota said, staring into her best friend’s eyes, searching for some measure of truth.
“He had someone with him,” Shane said, his words tentative, unsure of whether he was saying too much. “Some blond.”
“Right,” Rachel said. “He said she was his . . . friend and was there for moral support.”
I snorted and Shane smirked. “Wimp-ass.”
Dakota elbowed Shane. “I think that’s kind of sweet. It’s obviously been eating him up.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Rachel said. She was sounding mature about the whole thing. “But he’s still an asshat.”
Dakota grinned. “A jackass.”
“A total fuck stick,” Shane said, before downing his drink.
“A complete dickwad,” Rachel said, laughing. Now it felt more like old times, as the table erupted in laughter, everyone in stitches. My prim and proper sister actually called someone a jackass. Though with good reason.
Then Dakota reined in her laughter and leaned toward Rachel. “Do you . . . still have any feelings for him?”