Time After Time - A Gilmore Girls Fanfic #1

Chapter 7

"So?"

Jess set the last piece of paper down and tried to swallow but his throat was dry. Without answering, he pushed away from the table and went to the fridge. "Want a drink? Beer or water?" he asked, turning his back on Rory while he gathered his thoughts.

"Water please."

He grabbed a bottle of water and a beer and took them over to the table, setting the former in front of her. Then he opened his beer and sat down.

"You're being eerily quiet," Rory said with a nervous catch in her voice. "If I were a cartoon character, I'd be chewing on my nails right about now."

Jess stared at his drink, his mind still racing with everything he'd just read. The writing itself was technically perfect—this was Rory after all—but it was what she'd revealed that had him so troubled. "I'm... processing."

"If it's too personal, I'll change it," Rory said. "Or if you want, I can omit—"

"No," he said, his head snapping up. He blew out a breath, trying to remain calm. "Don't take me out of your story."

She frowned. "I didn't mean take you out entirely. I meant just omit the part about your parents."

"Oh." He wasn't that insecure boy anymore; at least, he didn't think so. Still, a part of him had been so sure she'd have no qualms about erasing him from the book and, in turn, from history.

She flashed him a sad sort of smile. "Jess, if I took you out, my story would be woefully incomplete."

He looked away, the relief giving way to a burning in his chest. He took a swig of the cold beer but it did nothing to soothe the guilt. He drank again, nearly emptying the bottle, but it was pointless. Just as he'd found out the hard way many years ago, you can't drown regret, no matter how much you drink.

He'd hurt Rory; there was no getting around that. His actions were spelled out on the page in front of him, as clear and crisp as the black ink. And even if Rory never said it outright, her pain was woven within her words, infusing the story with a bittersweet atmosphere.

When he finally looked up, he found her staring at him, waiting. "So... take it out?" she asked.

He leaned forward, setting his hands on the table. And with a voice raw with remorse, he said, "I'm sorry."

Her face paled and she sighed. "I guess I'll rewrite—"

"No, I meant I'm sorry for hurting you," he said. "For ruining your relationship with Dean. For leaving without saying goodbye. Twice. And generally for being the biggest jackass in the world. You didn't deserve any of that, and I'm sorry."

Her lips trembled. "This isn't why I asked you to read my story."

"I know."

"I wasn't after an apology."

"I know. But I want to apologize anyway. Because I really am sorry I put you through all that." He held out his palm and held his breath. After what seemed like forever, she finally reached out and placed her hand in his.

Only then did he exhale. "I hope it's not too late to be forgiven."

She looked at him with those expressive blue eyes, then she blinked and a tear escaped, making a jagged lightning path down her cheek. "We're good," she said, wiping at her face.

He squeezed her hand, so small and fragile in his, before letting go. "Use it," he said, drawing back. "Every single painful bit."

"You don't mind?"