The weight of my promise to Ethan sits heavily on my chest as Brandon shifts beside me, his arm brushing mine in a subtle touch that nearly rockets me from my chair.
I dip my brush into the blue paint with more force than necessary, splattering tiny droplets across the pristine white canvas, and I remind myself of all the reasons I’m avoiding him.
I remember the look of betrayal on Ethan’s face when I explained about the massage. Then I picture Ethan’s busted nose, the bruising beneath his eyes, and his insistence I keep my distance.
Brandon clears his throat, but I keep my eyes forward, watching the instructor demonstrate how to create the misty backdrop for the lake.
“Are you going to talk to me or ignore me all night?”
His words grate on me, even as the sound of his voice sends a flood of warmth shooting through my chest.
“Funny. I don’t remember any of us inviting you,” I say, coming off far more unbothered than I feel.
“So, you’re going to stay mad at me forever?” he asks, and the hurt in his voice is almost enough to make me crack. “I was defending you, Tate. I saw the bruises. How long are you going to pretend that nothing happened or that it’s okay?”
I say nothing, and he shakes his head with a low growl that rumbles through his chest and into mine.
“You didn’t even let me explain,” I say.
“Because there’s no explanation good enough. Quite frankly, he’s lucky he’s still breathing.”
I swallow, forcing my gaze to his and instantly regretting it. The familiarity of his eyes is like a punch to the gut, the genuine pain in his expression my undoing. “I told you it was nothing. Just like I begged you not to do anything rash, so what do you do?” I laugh, the sound a bitter rasp in my throat. “You drive all the way to his campus and assault him without warning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll be sure to call first.”
I shoot him a dirty look, then turn back to my canvas.
He doesn’t get it, and he never will.
Ethan loves me, and I betrayed him.
He was just upset, caught up in the moment and hurt. He’d never actually hurt me.
But I don’t waste my breath saying any of this to him, because he’ll never understand. He had his mind made up about Ethan from the moment he met him.
“So, that’s it?” His voice cracks. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Don’t do this,” I whisper, feeling his pain like my own as I try to focus on my painting, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in.
“Do what? Try and figure out why my best friend is suddenly ghosting me over defending her? Or why she would allow someone?anyone?to treat her like anything less than the queen she is?”
I roll my eyes. “Please. I have Ethan, and I’m fortunate that he still wants to be with me after my unhinged best friend put his fist through his nose.”
Brandon laughs, but there’s nothing happy about the sound. “Come to think of it, you were ignoring me before I paid your man a little visit.” He narrows his eyes on me, and I avoid his gaze. “So, what gives? Did he demand you stay away from me?”
His words hit a little too close to home for comfort.
I shift in my seat and scan the room, searching for an escape as I say, “I can’t have this conversation right now.”
“Well too damn bad.”
My gaze jerks to his, and all the frustration and anger and confusion from the last few weeks come to a boiling point, spilling over like an overfilled pot. “You don’t get to come in here and make demands.”
“Tatum, I’m going crazy here . . .”
His voice is desperate, his expression pleading as our eyes collide, and it’s almost enough to make me crack. To make me forget why I ever started avoiding him in the first place. Why I thought spending all my free time with him is so wrong when itfeels so right. Like coming home. Like tea and honey. Cider on a crisp autumn day. Warm sweaters in the winter and popsicles in the summer. All my favorite things wrapped into one.
I need him to leave me alone, because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stay away.
