“Can I come in?” he asks when I open the door.
I stare at my brother, the guy who taught me to ride a bike, running alongside me. Who held my hair during the great food poisoning incident and didn’t complain once about the smell.
Right now, I want to shut the door. Tonight, even Jake doesn’t feel safe.
“No.” My voice wobbles. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. We should have. That was wrong.” I take a shaky breath. “But you don’t get to decide who I’m with. You don’t get to decide for me, end of story.”
He opens his mouth—probably to explain why actually he does, because he’s my big brother and that’s his job—but I can’t let him.
“You talk about protecting me, but tonight wasn’t protection. It was... control. And if you think I’m going to stand here and let another man tell me what I’m ready for, you’ve lost the plot completely. You and Patrick can both get fucked with this ‘fragile Georgie’ narrative. I’m not the broken girl who came home from uni. And either you trust me to make my own choices—even the messy ones—or you don’t. But if you don’t, Jake, then you’re going to lose me.”
My voice cracks on the last bit, which undermines the badass speech I’m going for.
“I can’t be Button forever. I need you to see that I’m grown up now.”
We stand there, awkward as strangers at a bus stop. We’ve bickered before, but this feels bigger.
Jake runs his hands down his face, looking so tired it makes my chest hurt. “I just... Watching you fall apart nearly killed me. I can’t do it again. But I know I’m a controlling arse. It’s guilt too. Guilt that I’m gallivanting around the world when you need me. I’m sorry. I’m so bloody sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, because that’s what you say when someone you love is trying, even when you’re hurt.
But no matter what Jake says, the truth remains: Patrick can’t bring this Skye version of us into real life. Jake just forced him to see it. Jake made him see that he was a boss, a friend, a free spirit who won’t be tied down, and all of those are worth more to Patrick than me.
If it hadn’t been Jake tonight, it would’ve been someone else tomorrow.
“Are you staying with Patrick tonight?” I ask. “Are you two okay?”
“I’m at the hotel.” He shakes his head hard, like the very idea of sharing a cottage with Patrick leaves a bad taste. “We need space. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “But I need space from you too. So… no, you can’t come in. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”
Something crumples in his expression. He nods once, swallowing whatever argument he wants to make. “Okay.”
He shifts on his feet. “Can we at least… hug? I hate you being upset with me.”
I nod and lean into him. For a moment, I’m ten again, tucked under my brother’s chin, thinking a hug and a bad joke could make everything better.
“I love you,” he says into my hair. “Even when I’m a controlling arsehole.”
“I love you too,” I whisper into his shirt.
I’m glad he can’t see the tears silently sliding down onto his shoulder.
When did I let myself fall this hard? When did I stop protecting my heart?
I ignored every red flag practically tattooed across Patrick’s forehead and turned it into something bigger in my head.
Patrick never truly wanted me. Not really.
Sure, he wanted me to feel safe when Jake wasn’t around. He wanted to show me his Scotland—the helicopter rides, the boat trips, the bloody haggis.
But he didn’t want to be withme. Not in any way that mattered.
That’s where I went wrong.
When I asked him what was going on between us, he never gave me a straight answer because there wasn’t one to give. We weren’t anything. We were never going to be anything.
When Patrick said he wanted to tell Jake, I was so naive. So ridiculously hopeful. I thought it meant he wanted to make itofficial. To claim me. To say, “This is my girlfriend” and deal with the consequences.
