Looks like she didn’t take a bath with her toaster after all.
My brother gone for good. No need to keep running and hiding, the truth is out there now. Rory is already working on a plan to get my mom to the Heights, and she and I had a long, long call a little bit ago. A surprisingly large portion of the world is listening to my story, what I have to say,andI have the chance to be onVixens(while I’m still alive).
I could pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
The one thing that’s keeping me from being on cloud nine is this rift in the ether, this fight with Weston.
I have missed texts from him that I haven’t brought myself to look at yet. I just needed a day to myself.
Had he not shown up, dick swinging, ready to piss on me in front of my brother to stake his claim, I would’ve gone to his house last night and we could be together right now.
But no, he had to explicitly disrespect my wishes, showing up to protect me when I didn’t need him to.
Did he even stop to think after everything I shared with him why I wouldn’t want that?
Does he even realize what it means for me totrusthim at this point in my life?
Breathing deeply, I take a sip of my Alani and let the memories flood me. All the reasons I have to trust him. The ways he’s earned my trust, time and again these past three months.
Rescuing me from the side of the road, offering to help fix Van Gogh when I couldn’t afford it, bringing me along on the paint jobs. Everything we shared with one another in our late-night chats, the closeness we developed over weeks of spending day after day together.
And then, the physical aspect. How he knew what I needed—not just what I liked, but intuited what I was comfortable with, and what I wasn’t. Sex with him is incomparable to anything I’ve experienced before. It’s just one more way he showed he really knew me, he got me in ways no one else ever has.
Then there was how he went up against his brother for me. Repeatedly.
My stomach swoops at the thought of him working so hard to repair his relationship with his brother but being willing to burn it all down for me.
Without a doubt, my feelings for Weston haven’t gone anywhere, which makes this all the more annoying.
There’s just this disappointment, this unease bubbling in me at the way he disregarded what I needed and the boundaries I set. But this knot in my stomach isbecauseI love him so much. Having this disturbance between us is killing me.
A voice in my head—my conscience can be a real bitch—points out he really hasn’t done anything to break my trust, other than to try back me up when I’ve had an opponent. First Wyatt, then Randall. He went to bat against his own brother for me, then mine too.
Somehow, in the daylight, that seems more sweet than overprotective prick. Or maybe that’s just me sleeping on the perspective Rory jammed down my throat.
AmIthe asshole for the way I’ve reacted?
The man has been one green flag after another.
It’s my own issues that are the problem, isn’t it?
I hate when I’m the problem.
I need fresh air.
Locking Van Gogh, I trek through the woods on the side of the lot I’m parked in until I find a spot to sit down on a large, flat boulder.
The air is balmy, even after dusk it’s humid. Summer is here. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, appreciating the warmth after the chill of spring.
How long am I going to punish him?
What will it take for me to be able to go back to him, talk out what went down, and work out how to not have this happen again?
I thought time alone would help, and I guess it has in a way. I needed to process, and I have. But I miss him so much it hurts. This emptiness inside me feels wrong after all the ways we’ve grown so damn close.
But then again, that’s why this hurts so bad isn’t it?
Ididfinally trust him.
