Page 80 of The Fighter

“Were you attracted to Devlin?”

Con shook his head, and his voice deepened, like this was hard to admit. “No. Just… no. I saw him as a younger brother. Always had. Always would. Always will.”

I could guess what came next. “So eventually he confessed?”

Con swallowed. “Yes. And I turned him down. It didn’t go well. He begged. He pleaded. On his knees. I told him I’d never be that for him. Not ever. The entire scene was ugly. I said things I shouldn’t have, needing to hurt him, and I regret them often, because I think that broke him. But I needed to end this obsession he had with me or…” He blew out a breath, and his knees buckled. “I need to sit down.”

I half-carried, half-dragged him to a large chair in the corner of the bedroom. After kicking off some pillows and dirty clothes, I sat him down on the edge while I tugged an ottoman over withmy foot. He hung his head, hands clasped between his knees, while I sat down across from him.

“I haven’t thought about this in a long time.” His eyes met mine, and the thick sludge of shame swam there. “Sometimes I wonder if he was less obsessed with me, and more obsessed with what he thought we could have. Like he’d built up this fantasy relationship in his head and installed me there because I was someone he knew, I was gay, and I liked control.”

He leaned back in the chair, legs spread wide, elbow propped on the armrest as he ran his fingers over his lips. His gaze went distant. “It doesn’t matter. That was when Devlin’s world changed. And mine too.”

I grasped his knee. “And you take full responsibility for that?”

His eyes shifted to take in my face. “It’s my fault. I probably led him on, and I didn’t see the warning signs until it was too late, until he was attached. And instead of confronting it, I let him carry this torch for me for years. I let him build up the idea of us in his head.” His jaw shifted, his eyes grew wet, and my heart broke. “I should have tried with him. Maybe I could have toughed it out. Maybe I could have been what he wanted me to be, at least for a little bit. But I was selfish, and I?—”

“Fuckoff, Con,” I snapped, the anger rising in my chest surprising me. “You said yourself you weren’t what he wanted.”

“But I didn’t try?—”

“And what, destroy both of you? Delay the inevitable when you broke up? Devlin was always going to be who he is, Con. Acting like this is on you…” I shook my head. “You really carry this guilt around with you every day? How do you breathe?”

“Not well,” he shot back, and I could see the defensiveness rising in him. “You weren’t there. You don’t know Devlin. You have no idea all the things I did wrong, and all the ways I could have prevented?—”

“You’re right, I wasn’t there. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the way people work. Devlin has been chasing a high he can’t reach his whole life. You beating yourself up for it for the last decade is just you being stubborn.”

“Maybe if I’d just given in to Devlin, then you wouldn’t have had to live the way you have for the last five years. Did you think of that?”

I scoffed. “Oh, you want me to blame you too now? You want me to tell Amara this is all your fault? Come on, Con.” I laughed but the sound was sour. “This is the way our lives turned out, and I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Amara. I’m not doing what ifs, Con. It’s a waste of time.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” I spread my arms wide. “Are we fighting? Because I think you’re holding onto a martyr complex, and I’m just making you confront it.”

“This is not what you—” He stopped short, frustration evident in his clenched fists.

“This is not what I what?” I demanded. “Finish that sentence, Con.” Part of me knew where he was going with this. That me confronting him wasn’t ourdeal, wasn’t part of the silent agreement we’d made in our relationship.

I could tell meeting my gaze was causing him physical pain. “Tav, please.”

“Finish. The. Sentence.”

His lips thinned, and for a moment, I thought he might strike me. “This is not,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “what you need to do with me.”

“Oh, so you can bend over backward to heal whatever is fucked up with me, and I can’t do that to you? What, you think I’m only here as a like a little pet project? Something you can fix to make up for all the guilt you got rotting in your gut?”

He surged forward, eyes firing. “Don’t call yourself that.”

I noticed that what made him the most pissed off was when I insulted myself. “Then tell me why we can’t have this conversation.”

“Because it’shard.” He slammed his fist down on the chair, and something in the furniture creaked. With a groan, the anger seemed to ebb as he pitched forward and dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck, this is hard.”

I reached for him, and his body went limp like a doll. I pulled him into my lap, arranging his legs so they straddled my hips and tucked his face into my neck. His lips dipped to mouth at my collarbone near my bad shoulder. His arms snaked around my body to curl at the short hair at my nape.

“I don’t see you like that,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re not apet project. But sometimes focusing on you gives me the only reprieve I have from thinking about all my mistakes.”

“That’s not fair to either of us. You want me around for a while? After Devlin is dealt with? Then you have to give to me the same way you get from me.”