I’d stood up during my rambling explanation, and I had to rest my hand on the counter and force myself to breathe.
Having been thrown back to the moment when I’d discovered that Owen, a guy I’d trusted more than anybody else in life, had screwed me over, my buried emotions had come flying to the surface with a vengeance.
The anger.
The pain.
And the tumultuous sense of betrayal.
Maybe I should have said all those things years ago, but I hadn’t because I’d avoided confrontation as much as possible back then. To some extent, maybe I still did.
Owen moved until he could wrap his hand around my shaky fingers. “Hey, calm down, Layla. I never lied to you. Ever. I swear. I never have and I never would. What the hell happened? Shit! Don’t cry.”
I lifted my chin and looked him directly in the eyes. The warmth and concern I saw there almost soothed my emotions. Almost, but not quite. I tugged to get my hand back, but he had a firm grasp on it. “Please cut the bullshit, Owen. If I’d known that you’d applied for the scholarship, too, I never would have asked for a peer recommendation from you in the first place. But you were graduating as the valedictorian of our class, and you were so respected scholastically that I wanted your letter of recommendation. I didn’t know that you never sent it until the scholarship board informed me that they didn’t receive one of my peer recommendations, so I’d become ineligible. I understood everything once the announcement came out that you were the recipient.”
Owen finally let go of my hand and straightened up. The warmth in his eyes cooled as he asked, “So you just assumed I was the one who didn’t send in the recommendation? Why would you think that, Layla? If I hadn’t wanted to write one, I would have just told you. We were friends, dammit! I wrote the most honest reference possible. I told the board that you were deserving, truthful, hardworking, and so gifted that you should be the one to get the scholarship. Yeah, I applied, just like I put in an application for anything and everything that could help take the load off myself and my family, but I didn’t expect to get it. The Manheim tends to lean more toward students who plan on pursuing veterinary programs, since the founder was a vet. But I put my application in anyway since it’s open to anyone pursuing a bachelor’s in the sciences. And I put my application in right before you asked me for a letter of recommendation. If I’d known that you were applying before I sent in my application, I wouldn’t have sent in my info in the first place.”
I saw what looked like genuine pain in the depths of his eyes, and I had to jerk my gaze away from his face.
How was it possible that he really did send that letter?
Was this just another diversion so he didn’t have to admit that he’d screwed me over?
Did I believe him?
Really, it wasn’t possible that he was telling the truth. “Who else would have done that?” I asked coolly. “Andie wrote hers and sent it. She even showed me a copy.”
“I didn’t think that Andie knew why you were pissed off at me,” Owen said stiffly.
“She didn’t. I didn’t tell her that I didn’t get that scholarship because you didn’t send your recommendation in.”
Owen clenched his free hand into a fist. “I did send it,” he rasped. “If I remember right, the scholarship committee required three peer recommendations. It was an unusual process because they asked for them to be sent after you applied, with the name of the student applying and their application number. You, Layla Marie Caine, were applicant number 997-543-145.”
I wasn’t surprised that he could pull that number and my full name out of his head. I nodded sharply. “Too bad you never put that on my recommendation letter.”
I jumped when his fist connected with the granite. “I sent the damn thing,” he said, sounding agitated. “Who was your third reference?”
“Bea Stanley,” I said flatly. “You know, class president, cheerleader, very popular, very friendly, teacher’s pet even though she wasn’t anywhere near the top of the class. Everybody loved her. She was never late for a single class. Ever. The woman was perfect. It’s not like she’d screw up.”
“But you think it’s possible that I did? Did you ask her if she sent it?” Owen questioned sharply, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I didn’t ask her. She said she’d send it the next day, and she always did everything right.”
“So it was easier to believe that I’d screw you over than to ask her? What the fuck, Layla? I know you hung out with her sometimes, but you and I were close friends. Didn’t I deserve the benefit of the doubt, too?”
A single tear dropped onto my cheek, and I swiped it away ruthlessly. The last thing I wanted was for Owen to see me cry. “I thought so, until I found out you won the scholarship, and I’d become ineligible. It made sense that you’d been the one who didn’t send it. Especially since you’d been pretty distant toward me for a couple of weeks before I got the letter telling me I was disqualified. I got the news that you’d received the scholarship a couple of days later. I assumed you were trying to push me away because you knew that I’d find out.”
“That’s not why I was backing off,” he answered curtly. “What happened to Bea?”
“She’s one of those friends who moved on with her life while I was in school. She married the captain of the football team and has a couple of kids now. She’s in San Diego,” I said. “We tried to hook up for coffee or lunch a couple of times, but something always came up with her husband or her kids, so we never ended up meeting in person.”
“Do you have her number?” he asked gruffly.
“In my phone,” I replied.
“Call her,” he demanded.
I shot him a startled look. “Now? Andie will be here any minute.”
“This party isn’t starting for another hour. Call her. You owe me that, Layla. You just accused me of lying and intentionally stealing that scholarship from you,” he said grimly.
“You did lie to me,” I shot back at him as I opened the small cross-body purse I’d left on the island. “I just don’t understand why you won’t own it. Maybe then I could completely get over it. It’s not like I don’t know that you needed every scholarship you could get.”
“Maybe because I didn’t do it. Whether you believe it or not, I wanted you to get that scholarship once I’d found out that you’d applied. I was aware of just how badly you wanted to be a vet. Hell, I was blown away when Andie mentioned that you were going to nursing school instead. What I don’t get is why you’d ever believe that I could crush your dreams like that intentionally and still be able to live with myself, Layla. You never shared all that much about your family life, but I knew enough to know that it wasn’t good. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me you couldn’t get much financial aid, or that your chances of becoming a vet were heavily dependent on that scholarship?”
I rarely discussed my home life with anyone back then. I’d been ashamed of what I had, compared to the way Owen’s brothers and sisters always supported and encouraged him.
Maybe I’d been embarrassed to tell him too much about my life.