Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I’m ready to apologize for the rest of my life if you want.”

“Maybe I just need you to leave me alone.”

“Stop being an asshole.” Reina joins Lucy and crosses her arms.

She might have lost her memories and done a one hundred eighty-degree shift in personality, but apparently, she still likes Lucy.

And she still has that glare no level of amnesia can erase. “She already apologized to you.”

I place a hand on my hips. “Doesn’t mean I’ll forgive her.”

“You don’t have to, but that will only hurt you both in the long run. Weren’t you supposed to be best friends?”

“Best friends don’t stab each other in the back.” My voice breaks and I hate it. I hate the weakness.

“I didn’t mean to.” Lucy’s lids shine with tears. “I swear I didn’t want to hurt you, but I admit to being too blinded with the glamorous side of being popular and I let that get to my head, and for that, I’m terribly sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re sorry or not. It changes nothing.”

“Of course, it does.” Reina sighs heavily. “Listen, the whole Sebastian thing is fucked up, but it’s all on me. Lucy had nothing to do with it, so if you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

“Blame you?” I laugh with no humor. “You don’t even remember why the hell you did it.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.” She lowers her gaze. “If I could, I would’ve found out why so I could give you closure.”

“Who says I need closure?” My voice breaks again and I curse myself for it.

Reina smiles and it’s weak—haunted, even.

She’s been making these types of expressions more often than not since she lost her memories and her estranged fiancé, Asher, returned to town.

“It’s okay if you do, Naomi,” she says. “We all do.”

Well, I don’t.

I really don’t.

Maybe if I repeat that long enough, I’ll start to believe it.

35

Sebastian

Naomi’s had enough time.

To reject me.

To pretend that she’s moving on.

But I know she isn’t.

How do I know? It’s simple.

The rage in her eyes that she projects onto the world is so similar to mine. Her need to snap at anyone and anything, then retreat into her bubble speaks volumes more than her scathing words.

They’re only armor she chooses to hide behind.

Because no matter how angry she is, no matter how much she hates me for succumbing to a stupid bet, she still looks up at me with those big brown eyes. She still has that spark only I can recognize.