This fucking idiot.
Theo’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching and his nostrils flaring as he stares down at me. “I. Hate. You,” he reiterates with more bite to his tone.
I scoff. “You were the one who walked away from me, big guy.Youleftme, so you don’t get to hate me.” I poke his chest with each syllable, anger boiling away at the audacity of this man. “You don’t get to hate me when it wasyouractions that caused this.”
“Typical, Blake.” He laughs bitterly. “Always blaming someone else when it was you.” He leans into my space, filling my senses with everything that is him. “You broke my heart for a quick fuck. I’m more than entitled to hate the mere sight of you. You disgust me.”
The resulting sneer and look of hatred tells me he speaks the truth, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Just as I’m about to tell him as much, the senator walks in with Harper. She’s hidden under a large hoodie that falls to her knees, her head is down, and she shuffles along like she would rather be anywhere else but here. My heart hurts for this poor girl who’s suffered so much.
Theo brushes past me, heading straight for the girl. “Sup, Harper. I’m Theo, your designated driver and lover of all things Tay Tay.”
I watch as he doesn’t crowd her, doesn’t hold his hand out to her, simply talks like he would to anyone else. I’m baffled by the encounter. I would have definitely given her space, but I would have also spoken to her in a softer tone.
Harper looks up at Theo, and it happens so quickly I wonder if I imagined it, but she gives a slight quirk of her lips as if he made her smile. The senator’s eyes going wide means I didn’t imagine it.
“Awesome. You’re riding shotgun,” he continues. “That one over there has a stick up her ass, and I’d rather sit with the cool kid.”
It takes me a minute to work out thatI’mthe one Theo meant had a stick up their ass.
This motherfucker.
“Excuse Mr. Moore, his man bun is a little too tight today, and it’s cutting off his circulation,” I quip, rolling my eyes at Harper. I give a small wave as I say, “Hey, I’m Blake. The one with the stick up her ass who also loves Taylor.”
Harper nods, her dark hair falling out from beneath the hood with the movement. She brushes it back, and the sleeve moves up, revealing a bandage on her wrist. I suck in a breath, my eyes going to Theo, but his are firmly on Harper.
Chapter Sixteen
THEO
One thing about mental health I hate is the stigma surrounding it. You can function as a human being—barely—and be hiding the most amount of pain known to man, yet people still don’t see it. They see those who laugh at other people’s jokes and do their best to make others smile because they wish someone would do the same for them. So, no, I won’t treat Harper with kid gloves. No, I won’t tell her everything is going to be okay. Instead, I’m going to do what I’ve always done—throw out all the jokes.
“Ignore her, shortie. My man bun sits just right. She only wishes she had hair like me.” I wink.
I noticed the bandage on her arm when she moved her hair out of the way, and it took everything in me not to envelop her in a hug. I don’t want to ignore it, but I also don’t want to be like ‘hey, I’ve got one of those too, so we’re like besties now.’ You never know what’s going on in the recesses of someone’s mind, the demons they're facingor the battles they’re trying so hard to overcome. I can’t save everyone, I know that, but I’m damn well gonna try.
Harper looks at me, her brown eyes filled with so much pain it’s like a slap to the face. I have to breathe through my own heartache for this girl and hope to god I can save her.
“Right, let’s get going.” I clap my hands together and bend down to get her bag from the floor. “Car’s out front.”
The walk is quiet, and a somber mood fills the air, my own demons threatening to pull me under.
“What happened?” Mike asks as I stumble into his office, pain radiating in my thigh from the skin pulling and stinging.
“I fucked up,” is all I say, throwing myself down on his couch.
Mike sits there as he usually does, not saying anything with his face showing no emotion. I open and close my mouth several times, the block in my brain refusing to let the words out. But I’m getting sick of this shit now. I’m never going to get better if I don’t do something. I’m sick of hurting all the time. I’m sick of not feeling like I’m enough.
“She’s back,” I murmur finally, the words sticking in my mouth like glue, but the weight on my shoulders feels lighter. “She’s back,” I say, louder this time but with more meaning.
“And how does that make you feel, Theo?” he asks, shifting in his seat, his pen flying across his paper.
That’s what scares me the most. What’s he writing about me? That I’m a waste of space and should just kill myself because I’m not worth the time and aggravation? Is he thinking I’m emotionally unstable—of course he is, Theo. You have BPD. I mentally face-palm at my own stupidity.
“Like shit,” I force out through clenched teeth. “Like my world is imploding. Like I can’t breathe.” I stand up, anxious energymaking my skin crawl. “Why do I feel like this? Yeah, she cheated, but people cheat all the time. Why does she make me feel like this?”
Mike stops writing and looks at me. “I don’t know, Theo. Why does it make you feel like this?”
“She betrayed me. The one person who I thought wouldn’t did. She’s no better than my mother and stepfather,” I shout, hands fisted in my hair and tears lining my eyes.
