Stars in Your Eyes(85)

He laughs. “Jesus, that’s the same reason I came in.”

“No shit, really?”

“That’s an incredible story,” he says. “It was brave of you. I mean, going to the clinic and everything…It’s admirable.”

“I don’t know. Being the sort of person I want to be isn’t that brave. It’s just about accountability.” Speaking of which. “I’m glad we ran into each other. I’ve been thinking for a while now that I should try to reach out to you. I told myself it’d probably be impossible to get in touch, with you being a Hollywood star and everything, but I think I was just using that as an excuse. I was afraid to.”

“Why were you afraid?”

“Because I knew what I’d have to do. I want to apologize. The way I treated you was wrong.”

He shuts his mouth, jaw set. He nods, looking away. I can see it in his eyes. I really hurt him. “Yeah. It was.”

I swallow. This is the hard part. “If you want to tell me…express, I mean, how I hurt you…” I stop speaking because I’m not sure how to finish—but Mattie seems to get the point. He’s silent for a while, nodding to himself and staring anywhere but at me before he speaks again.

“Hurting me like that, over and over again—treating me like crap and pushing me away when I was trying to be there for you…Shit, Logan, especially with everything that happened in the end and you wouldn’t even speak to me—I had to chase you down…”

I nod. I know now that it was a trauma response. I was frozen, shut down, didn’t know how to speak to him, let alone what to say—but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt him. “Yeah. I understand. I fucked up.”

“For a while, it was hard to trust the guys I dated wouldn’t push me away like that.”

Guys he dated. I feel a flinch of regret, but that’s not his shit to deal with. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“But, you know—I understand. You’d been through so much.”

“Being traumatized isn’t an excuse to cause trauma, too,” I say. I sound like one of the leaders for the group sessions. I want to roll my eyes at myself, but it’s true. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away because I was afraid.”

Matt’s quiet, thoughtful. His voice is soft. “I forgive you.”

I’m not expecting the rise of emotion that wells in my eyes. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to hear those words from him. He didn’t have to forgive me for anything. “Thank you.”

I’d been ashamed, for a while, realizing how much harm I’ve caused, but that was another thing I had to learn: there isn’t any point in being ashamed for my mistakes. Shame isn’t the same as guilt. Guilt—yeah, I should have that for the shit I’ve done. I should try to right the wrongs. Shame, though, is more about how much I hated myself. I hated myself so much, and I didn’t even know it.

“I hope you’re not beating yourself up over everything,” Matt says. “Be compassionate to yourself, you know?”

He’d told me that, once. He probably doesn’t even remember, but those words stuck with me. “Yeah. I do have compassion for myself. No, really,” I say, when he gives me a skeptical look. “I was stuck in the trauma. I wasn’t able to heal until I found a way out.”

“Are you healed?”

He always knew how to pick up on the little shit. I smirk. “Healing. I’m learning who I am outside of LA, away from my father, out of the spotlight.” And I think I like this person. Might even start to love him.

Matt’s eyes are hooded. “It’s incredible that I even ran into you.”

“You mentioned you’re doing a play?”

“I thought acting in a smaller production might be a good chance to get away from the attention for a while. Lie low and take inventory of what I really want.” He swallows, then looks away. “I—uh—actually just broke up with my boyfriend. Phillip Desmond.”

“Phil, huh?” I don’t bother pretending to be surprised. I’ve seen them splashed across enough tabloid and magazine covers for the past few months.

“Yeah. We worked out okay at first, but the relationship wasn’t what I wanted, and…I don’t know. It was scary to step away from the life I’d spent so much time building, but I understand what you mean. I wanted to get to know myself more, too.”

We sit in an easy silence for a while. I remember how uncomfortable I was when we shared the same space. When he showed me genuine love. My brain just didn’t know what to do with that yet. I think of Quinn and Riley’s romance. A story like that never would’ve been meant for someone like me. It’s like Mattie and I tried to have the expected romance, the fun rom-com shit—but with my trauma, I hit a wall I couldn’t pass through. I needed to heal before I could even think about letting myself accept the kind of love Matt was offering. But, I don’t know—maybe my healing was a part of our romance, too.

“I’m happy for you, Logan,” Matt says. “I really am.” He meets my eye. There’s a flinch of fear in his gaze. Fear, maybe, that I’ll just push him away again. I can’t blame him. But I’ve learned a lot. Enough to know when the anxiety is rising. Enough to know when to say I need a second—to explain what’s going on in my head.