My legs trembled and I edged away, my back scraping against the doorframe.
I steadied my chin. “It takes two to end a friendship, Caiden. Blame Dante, not me.”
He scowled deeper, brown eyes narrowing to dark slits. “No,” he whispered, shocking me with the intensity. “I blame you.”
My breath hitched as his fist rose, the knuckles knuckling like polished bone. Every nerve in my body screamed flight, but my feet rooted themselves to the floor.
Then, with a thunderous crack, his fist thudded into the wall beside me. Plaster dust rained down.
I closed my eyes against the impact, my heart lodged in my throat.
When I dared to open them, Caiden clutched his wrist, pale light glinting on fresh blood that dripped between his fingers.
Relief washed through me so hard it left me trembling.
He squeezed his eyelids shut and pressed his forehead into his palms. “Fuck! I can’t do it. I’m not a piece of shit like my dad.”
I blinked at the vulnerable tilt of his shoulders. He’d been so imposing a moment ago, an angry storm of muscle and menace, and now here he was, shrunken and shaking.
I remembered the rumors, the stories of a boy hardened by cruelty, wielding his rage like a weapon.
Yet in this raw moment, the armor cracked, revealing a frightened child longing for something he couldn’t name.
His muttering drifted against my skin. My pulse hammered in my ears. Any word I spoke might ignite him again, but silence felt like an admission of guilt.
Without thinking, I lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palm.
He jerked back as if I’d struck him. His eyes widened, confusion warring with rage. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
I swallowed around a dry throat. I wished I could explain howthe story of his pain mirrored my own, how loneliness had become a shared language between us. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice small.
He ran a hand through his hair, dark brows knitting together. “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here.”
Silence fell again. I could tell him to leave, that I feared what he might become, but he kept talking. “I told myself I wanted to hurt you, but I fucking can’t. I’m an ass with my words, yeah, but I wouldn’t ever hit a woman.”
I exhaled, the tension in my chest loosening. “Because you’re not your father. You’re better than him, Caiden.”
His jaw clenched. “What do you know about my father? What do you know about me? You don’t know a damn thing.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting down sudden panic. “I know enough. You’re wounded by him. And I… I’m wounded, too. Not in the same way, maybe, but I understand pain.”
His face twisted in a hopeless snarl. “I wouldn’t even have these issues if it wasn’t for your druggie mom!” The accusation cut through me like shattered glass.
My pulse jolted. “My mom?”
He spat the words out, venom dripping from each syllable: “Your mom fucked my dad while my mom was still around, after your dad left. My mom found out and left. That’s when my dad really let hell rain down on me. He turned into a drunk, abusive asshole. He blamed your mom for the failure of his marriage and burned it into my brain that I need to hate you. So, I learned to fucking hate you.”
The air turned electric as the betrayal settled over me.
An affair. My mother’s secret, now exposed in bitter confession. The walls of this house felt as if they were closing in, and I struggled to catch my next breath.
He saw the shock in my eyes and lashed out again. “Your mom is a whore, just like you and your sister!”
Pain flared in my chest, hot and stinging. Every part of me trembled with rage. “Fuck you!” I screamed, louder than I’d ever intended. My words reverberated off the hallway walls. “Get the hell out of my house! You’re an abusive bastard just like your father, taking your anger out on people who don’t deserve it.”
He staggered back, shock, and something like fear, flitting across his face.
In that charged moment, I realized how close we’d come to destruction, how thin the line was between his rage and mine. My own fury surged, a dam finally giving way.
