I held back the flinch that threatened, and frowned. “I can be doing something for someone else and doing it because I want to. If you were going too far, I would have said something, Clay. But I know you’d never hurt me.”
“You don’t fucking know that,” he said, yanking his arm away and turning to stare off in the distance so I couldn’t see his face. “You don’t know me.”
“I don’t?”
“No, and don’t start talking like a shrink either.”
“I’m not. I don’t understand how I don’t know you. I mean, I don’t know you like someone who knew you for years, but I’m not going to sit here and act like I didn’t think I knew you after all the time we’ve spent getting to know one another. So, unless you’ve been lying to me in a way I wish I could have lied while I was an escort, then no, I don’t believe I don’t know you.”
“You were the one who said I was so busy hiding you couldn’t figure out what I was like.”
“Yes,” I agreed, slowly sitting up to scoot to the edge of the bed and look at him. “That was before I got to know you better. That was when all I knew was that you were good-looking, confident, and seemed like all you wanted out of me was sex.”
“And how do you know that’s not what’s happened?”
“If that was the case, why would you be so upset about the idea?”
“Because someone doing something shitty can still know they’re doing something shitty, and they can take a while to feel bad about it,” he said, scowling at the floor.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Clay. I don’t know what’s happening right now. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. All I can see is that you’re upset, and you’ve been upset for a couple of weeks,” I said gently, wanting to reach out, but he had pulled away once, and I wasn’t going to try while he was already wound tight.
He snorted like an angry bull, getting up and snatching his clothes off the floor. “Just...it’s nothing, alright? Just thinking about things. Just...leave me alone.”
I was being shut out, and I frowned. “What?”
“Leave,” he snapped.
I leaned back, narrowing my eyes. “No.”
He half turned toward me, apparently forgetting his anger in the face of his surprise as he stared at me. “What?”
“You understood just fine every time I told you I wasn’t going to sleep with you, so you know what the word means,” I told him, bending down with far more calmness than I was feeling to grab my clothes as well. “So, no, I’m not going to leave because you’re upset and want to shove me away.”
“This is my room!” he protested, sounding as indignant as a teenager chasing their annoying brother.
“You are correct,” I said, ignoring my underwear and pulling on my pants instead as I got to my feet. “And I’m telling you no.”
“You can’t.”
“Well, I just did, so deal with that how you want. You can’t sit there and say you’re worried that I’m not doing things for myself and then act shocked when I do just because it isn’t whatyouwanted,” I told him as I snatched up my shirt and fought to get it over my head. “I’m not going to leave just because you demand it.”
He looked flabbergasted as he stared at me with wide eyes and mouth agape. “W-why?”
“Because I’ve been watching you for weeks, and Cade’s been watching you. Something is going on in that head of yours, and you’re choosing not to share it with us, maybe because you think you shouldn’t or maybe it’s just your thing where you don’t want to share,” I snapped, finally getting my shirt on. “But I’m tired of pretending something isn’t going on. I’m tired of waiting to see if you’ll finally say something to at least one of the people who you know care about you. And that’s the thing; I don’t expect you to tell me everything, you can tell Cade, and it won’t hurt my feelings. Just so long as you’re talking to someone!”
“I am,” he said defensively. “You know I’ve been to see the doc already.”
“I know,” I said softly, wanting to reach out desperately, but knowing it was a bad idea when he was so wired.
“No, youdon’t,” he bellowed with such ferocity that I was taken aback and could only stare at him as he paced.
“You,” he began and turned, his eyes blazing, and I could see?—
Oh, God, I could see it now. The anguish, the absolute despair that had wrapped its way around his heart for years, something I had missed so completely because he could smile, because he could hold me and make me feel better. Because he was able to pretend to be the person he thought he was rather than the heartbroken wreck that he was underneath it all.
“Clay,” I began, not even noticing the fear in my voice.
“You don’t!” he repeated, and I flinched when he lashed out and caught the small table near him and sent it flying again. His eyes were bugging out of his head, threatening to pop out as his hands became claws. “No one does! It’s all so?—”
