Tek smacks his hand against his chest. “My mother didn’t even come to Miri’s funeral. She wasn’t at one day of the trial. I could actually see it in her eyes that she was happy she died.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true. You’ve only ever seen the perfectly presented version of her, but I don’t get that luxury.”
I throw my hand in Tek's direction. “What you have looks pretty fucking amazing from where I’m standing. Imagine, for one second, what it would feel like to have nowhere to go for the holidays. No one expecting a call. No one expecting anything.”
“I’m stifled by expectation. It’s why Jin ran away, for Christ’s sake.”
“So why the fuck are you so mad at Eden, then?!”
Tek’s jaw instantly sets tight
“If your parents are as bad as you say they are, then surely Eden did the right thing by not telling anyone where Jin was.”
“He could have told me.”
I sigh. “I know. He could have done a lot of things better. But we can’t control Eden. We can only control ourselves. And you just made it so much more difficult for us to be able to have our happiness as well.” I look Tek dead in the eye. “You’re my first priority. Eden will always be my brother, but you’re…” I falter and turn away, pacing into the tree line before turning back. “Why is your anger so much more important than how this makes me feel?”
“I don’t understand how you can’t see how big of a fucking issue it is that he lied to us.”
“I can see it!” I scream. “It’s a huge fucking billboard right in front of both our faces. But I’m trying to push it away so I can seeyouagain, and you just keep pulling it back. I won’t do this, Tek. I won’t play second fiddle to your grudges.”
Something in his expression crumbles.
“Are you…” His voice cracks and his eyes quiver. “Are you leaving me?”
“Do you honestly think it’s that easy?”
“You’re not saying no.” His voice rises. “Carey, please. Don’t— I can’t—”
“Do you really think that little of me?”
“Fuck!” he shouts. Then his hands are in his hair, gripping and pulling.
His breathing intensifies like he's hyperventilating.
He kicks the passenger door shut with all his strength, leaving a boot-shaped dent. Then he starts hitting himself, his closed right fist connecting with the side of his head with sickening thuds.
“Stop it!” I yell, but he’s beyond hearing.
He stumbles in the slush.
I grab his wrist, so he raises the other one.
Holding both his arms I force my body against his and pin him to the dented door.
His eyes widen, searching mine with desperate intensity.
“Let me go,” he says, but there’s no force behind it. Both his cheeks are stained with tears. “Just say it,” he whispers.
“What?”
“I can’t live without you, Carey. So if you’re done, just go. Take the truck and leave me here.”
“Why do you run your mouth so much when all you need to do is shut the fuck up?”
I can feel the frantic rhythm of his pulse where my palms are pressed against his wrists.
