“My life is my own life,” she says, dropping her hand and lifting her chin. “You were a pushy fuck and I shared shit that no one aside from my therapist knows. I get that triggered some hero complex in you, but I don’t need you to rescue me, Damon. I fuckingdon’t.”
“Empty,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“You said you were empty.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a fucking liar,” I tell her.
“Damon!”
“But I don’t care.” I check for traffic then pull out onto the road.
“You don’t care?” she grinds out.
“Nope,” I say. “I don’t care if you say you’re fine. You’re not. You’re fucking empty and I’m going to change that shit. I’m going to fill you up, Red.”
“Why? Because you have some sort of fucked-up White Knight Complex?” She laughs humorlessly. “I’m not some weakling who needs to be saved.”
“Trying to piss me off?” I ask, even though the sharp edges of my temper have me clenching my steering wheel tightly. “It’s not going to work.”
“It doesn’t normally take much.”
She’s not wrong.
My patience is shit and my temper is finely honed to a sharp point, ready to explode at all times.
“True. But I understand now.”
“No,” she snaps. “What you mean is that hearing the shit that happened to me brought up some big feelings in you. But I’m not your sister, Damon.”
I suck in a breath, that slender hold I always have on my temper slipping, threatening to fracture, to allow that barbed edge loose, free to cause hurt.
She’s still talking though.
And that’s the only reason I manage to rein it in.
“I’m not weak,” she says caustically. “Life is fucked. Shit goes wrong. Bad stuff happens to innocent people. But I don’t let it drag me down. I fuckingcan’t. And you continuing to act like I’m some princess perched in a tower that needs rescuing doesn’t help. It makes it infinitely harder for me to stayfocused. I need to stay in my lane, to stay focused, to be the best at my job as I can.”
“There’s more to life than hockey.”
She laughs again and it’s as sharp as my temper.
As brittle as my control.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
I scowl before I can stop myself. “Joey,” I warn.
“What?” She makes a frustrated sound. “You don’t like me pointing out your hypocrisy?”
But there’s a thread in her voice.
Victory.
Like she knows she’s pushed me to a breaking point…and thus pushed me away.
