“She’s not. And I was wrong about you, about us. I…I just wasn’t ready to fall in love with someone, and then I fell in love with you?—”
“Shut up!” I scream and stand up. I put my hands on my hips and stare down at him. “How dare you?”
“I’m telling the truth.” He looks devastated.
“Bullshit.”
“Em, listen to me?—”
“You’re a hypocrite, Ransom. You ended things because I was too young, too immature—but it’s you who’s immature…andold.” My voice cracks, heat rising in my chest. “You’re right, I do deserve someone else. Someone who knows who he is. Not someone still pretending—” I break off, breath catching.
I hate that I’m shouting. I hate that I’m throwing insults like stones.
I take a step back. Straighten my spine.
This isn’t who I am. I won’t let him turn me into someone I don’t respect.
“We’re done. No friendship. No anything. If you’re around, I won’t be. So…I’m asking you not to come back here for Christmas again. This ismyfamily. I want to be with them without having to see you.”
I know I sound childish—maybe even proving his point that I’m too young. But I’m too angry, too bruised and turned inside out to care.
His face crumples. “Please, baby, don’t let it end like this.”
“It ended five years ago,” I remind him. “Youended us.”
Before he can say anything, the door to the orangerie creaks open.
We both turn to look who it is.
Freja stands at the doorway with those ridiculous feathers in her hair. She walks slowly inside, nods at Ransom, and then looks at me.
“You should go,” she says softly to Ransom.
He shakes his head. “She’s upset and?—"
“I’ll take care of her,” my sister assures him.
He comes up to me and cups both my cheeks, holds me so he can look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to say that—I didn’t mean it. I’d just realized I loved you, and the words came out wrong.”
My eyes widen. I clench my jaw to hold back the venom that’s ready to spill.
“I love you. This is not done. We’ll talk.” He kisses my forehead and leaves.
The second the door clicks shut behind him, I dissolve.
Freja crosses the room in two strides and pulls me into her arms. I sob into her shoulder, and she holds me like she did when we were kids—tight, unshakable, safe.
“I got you,” she whispers.
She takes me to my room, helps me get undressed, and into bed. Then, she gets in with me, like we did when we were kids.
I lay on my side, my hands folded under my cheek. She does the same.
“You know?”
She nods. “I heard you both, so I have an idea…but…I’ve suspected.”
“You did?” I’m not sure how to feel about that. “You didn’t say anything.”
