I get tired of the silence stretching between us. “Lindsay, whatever it is, just say it.”
She rounds on me, her different-colored eyes wild with fury. When her mouth opens, I brace for a yell, but she must remember that Jules is in the next room because I watch her recalibrate before whispering fiercely, “Gemma’s a fucking asshole, and I don’t want you to be friends with her.”
I sigh. “I told you, you don’t need to be jealous. She means nothing to me.” I reach for her, but she jerks away.
“I’m not jealous. That’s not what this is.” She stares off into the distance, and her hand lifts to her face.
I watch as her fingers slowly glide along her jawline, back and forth over there two red spots remain. I know I shouldn’t, it’s not the right time, but I can’t help it. Reaching up, I bat her hand away from her face. That snaps her back into focus, and she looks at me, bewildered, and maybe hurt too.
“What are you doing?” She looks at her hand as if I burned it. “What the hell was that?”
“Mapping,” I tell her, gesturing to her face. “I was trying to stop you.”
Her eyebrows pinch together as she jerks back. “How did you even––”
“I asked Natalie about it after the picnic. I wanted to know what it meant.”
She lets out a frustrated groan and shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Natalie told me you did that sometimes in college.” I shrug. “I thought if I noticed it in the moment, I could––”
She tries to hide her face again with the hoodie. “This isn’t about my coping mechanisms, okay? This is about you and Gemma, who I am not jealous of, by the way.”
“Fine. You’re not jealous.”
She nods. “Even if I were, like, a little jealous of her, which would be completely justifiable, given that she’s a smoking hot demon, that’s not what I’m upset about.”
I feel like we’re talking in circles. “Then what?”
“She’s not worth your time, Nic. She’s a shitty friend. Why even keep her in your life when she doesn’t treat you with respect?”
I back up a few steps, aghast at the direction this is taking. “How would you even know what kind of friend she is?” To my knowledge, Lindsay has only been witness to maybe four conversations Gemma and I have had. How would she have any idea how Gemma treats me? And why does she assume I’d put up with that kind of person? Maybe she just doesn’t understand how much we’ve been through. “Gemma has known me since I first recovered, okay? She knows things about my past that no one else does. You have no idea what kind of friend she’s been.” Gemma knows who I used to be. The real monster. She saw the evil that lives inside, and she accepted me anyway. That right there is friendship. “She got me a placement interview here. My bar, my life––I owe it all to her.”
“Yeah, well, it was nice of her to get the placement interview for you, but you earned your spot here on your own. The mayor wouldn’t have let you live here if she thought you were a danger to other residents, so Gemma didn’t do that. That was all you, okay? She doesn’t get credit for that. Just so we’re clear.” She resumes her pacing, and I start to think we’re going to have another marathon of silence when she whirls around. “I don’t know why you feel like you owe her so much. Is it because you’rejust that kind and forgiving, or has she been manipulating you into thinking you don’t deserve everything you have?”
Her words hit me like bullets. “Wait, so you think I’m either too weak to establish boundaries in a friendship, or too dumb to recognize when someone is trying to manipulate me?”
Lindsay has never made me feel like I don’t belong, or that my lack of education and vast vocabulary means I’m not worthy of her time, but others have. So many others, from childhood to now look at me like I have four heads when I say the wrong thing, or if I mix up a common phrase. They see a giant undead bag of bones who pours drinks for a living and assume I can’t tell the difference between apples and oranges, and until I can impress them with a big word, that’s all I’ll ever be.
I thought Lindsay saw the real me. Maybe I was wrong.
“I don’t think that at all,” she says, softening her tone. “I’m saying that’s how Gemma treats you, and that’s why she doesn’t deserve you.” She’s moving toward me now, arms open. Her eyes are filled with fear. “I’m just trying to protect you.” Her bottom lip wobbles when I don’t go to her. “Nic, please. I-I…This is how I get when I care about someone. I just want to protect you.”
That’s the nail in the coffin. “I don’t need your protection, Lindsay. I’m perfectly capable of determining who should and shouldn’t be in my life.” I walk backward until I’m by the front door.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, swiping a tear off her cheek.
My fingers twitch at my side, eager to serve as her tissue. My lips are desperate to kiss the red spots across her face until they fade. I want nothing more than to comfort her, but my heart wouldn’t be in it, so I stay where I am. She made me feel foolish tonight. I know it probably wasn’t her intention, but I can’t pretend my feelings weren’t hurt in the process. “Let’s call it a night, okay? Sleep it off.”
She sniffles and eventually nods. “Yeah. Sleep it off.”
I leave without looking back.
Chapter 17
DOMINIC
Idon’t sleep a wink. Instead, I toss and turn, yanking the ends of my hair out of a desire to create as much pain as I saw reflected in Lindsay’s eyes before I left. What a fucking cockwaffle I was. So what if she’s protective of me? Is that really a dealbreaker? That the woman I love senses when I’m not being treated right by the people and around me and she…makes me aware of it? Is that truly why I left her house last night? It seems so silly now.
