My voice flares. "Because it's over! You need to realize that and stop making yourself sick over it!"
"Easy for you to say! Like I said, I know you, Jett, and you don't know shit about being in love. So who the fuck are you to tell me to move on!?"
My pent-up rage reaches its boiling point. I scoff, letting out a laugh that lacks any trace of humor. "Oh yeah, tell me, Ander—how exactly is it easy for me to say!?"
“Because you don’t fucking care about anything or anyone. Even Izzy.”
My hands flex at my sides, chest heaving, red creeping into my vision.
“See?” Ander spits. “You can’t even deny it.You’refucking pathetic. Not me.”
That’s it.
Instantly, I take a step toward my little brother and shove him to the ground.
“What the fuck—”
I’m on him before he can finish that sentence, crouched over him, one fist bawled in his shirt, the other ready to be sent into his fucking face. A dare to say one more fucking word.
But it’s me who speaks first, shouting, "Enlighten me,” I shout, cutting him off, with a laugh that lacks all traces of humor. Tell me how I don’t care! Tell me how I never wanted or looked for love, but I found it over time inher!Tell me how I professed my love for her, and she shut down and pushed me out! Fucking tell me how I haven't slept with anyone since getting with her, because no one else amounts to her! My throat tightens, and I fight off the sting behind my eyes. It’s enough to lower my voice from anger to straight fucking pain. “Even the thought of being with anyone else in any capacity makes my stomach coil. Tell me how I wanted more, and she said that she never stopped sleeping around. Tell me how I'm the dumbass because that was our exact agreement; to be strictly casual and sleep with whoever else we wanted. And I fucking couldn't do it. I fell in love with her for everything she is and even for what she's not. Tell me about how, when I tried to fight for her, she said I was nothing more than a fuck toy. That I wasn’t worth it. She told me to give up. I wasn’t worth fighting for.”
A moment passes.
Slowly, Ander raises his hands in surrender. The cautious motion is enough for me to slightly falter. I release him, standing and stepping back, yet still enraged. Ander follows, standing asour eyes meet as I gain my bearings, and it’s then that I notice the regret filling his features as his mouth drops.
Finally finding some relief by releasing everything I've been holding in, I continue, "Why don't you tell me about how I've been the one lifting you every goddamn day while I'm struggling too. Tell me how I feel like I had everything I never knew I needed in the palm of my hand, and I fucking lost it. And please, tell me how I miss her so fucking much that it physically hurts. Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you go ahead and tell me how I'm going through the same shit you're going through, and I'm not making everyone else miserable by walking around here being a broody dickwad."
I'm damn near breathless once I finish. My heart is racing, my fists are clenched, and my mind is going a million miles a second.
I need to get out of here. If I don't, I'll really hurt him. I don't want to do that. I’ve worked too hard to control my aggression to let it slip like that.
"Jett, I didn't know—"
Holding up a hand, turning and walking out of the room, I say, "Don't fucking bother,brother. Remember, you know me.”
“I do know something,” Ander says from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. “I know exactly how hard it is to let go of someone you love.” I turn back, looking over my shoulder at him. “I’m sorry, Jett. You never let on that she meant so much to you. Because I know you so well, I should have seen it, but I didn’t.” He sighs, long and defeated. “But I see it now. I see your pain. And I’m here, man.”
I don’t respond with words; I just give him a nod of understanding and truce right before I turn and continue walking away.
Chapter twelve
Izzy
July 2017
It's been two weeks of absolutely no contact with Jett.
It's been eight weeks since we've been together.
I've never missed and yearned for someone the way I do for him. It’s as if a part of what was sewn into the fabric of who I am is now missing. At times, I find it hard to breathe.
Via is hurting, and my heart aches for her, but fuck, my heart aches for him too.
It doesn't make any sense.
This was always supposed to be strictly casual. We both agreed to it. It was all we both wanted out of this attraction between us.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, it became so much more.
