Page 137 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

That's harsh. And true. Dammit. But still...

“At least I'm not running myself into the ground to avoid feeling anything,” I say, as gently as I can.

“You're insufferable sometimes,” she hisses, with more life in her than I've seen in weeks.

“And you're a stubborn know-it-all.”

She purses her lips before saying, “Well, you're an emotionally constipated mule.”

“That doesn't even make sense, mules aren't emotionally constipated, they're just mules.”

“Well, you're one that's super powered with its inability to show emotions!”

I pretend to mull it over. “That actually sounds... kinda special. I'm rare and probably sought after.”

“Oh, shut up,” she snaps, glaring at me.

“You shut up.”

It's such a stupid exchange that for a second I almost laugh, and she must feel the same. But it never gets that far — we fall back into a seething, uncomfortable silence.

“It's not about me,” she says finally, quieter. “It's not about you. It's about Leon. A week ago I didn't know if I was going to lose my brother. And right before that — I was lying to him. Every single time I talked to him, every message, every call. Lies.”

I reach over, wanting to squeeze her hand, but I don't. “We can tell him⁠—”

She twists sharply to look at me. “No! He is in no condition to handle it right now. We are not telling him. Please make sure the others don't either.”

I pull into the car park without answering. She's got her seatbelt off before the ignition is off, and I stop her, my hand on her arm, because if she gets out right now I don't know when I get her back.

“Alexia, tell me, do you regret us?”

Two lines form between her brows. “Who?”

“Us.” It comes out sharper than I mean it, panic dressed up as frustration. “You and me. You and them. Any of it. Do you wish it never happened?”

“Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“I'm not trying to pressure you. I just need to know why you're pushing us away.” I take a beat so I don't bombard her with questions and emotions. “Because from where I'm sitting it looks like you're already halfway out the door, and I need you to tell me I'm wrong.”

But she doesn't. She just sits there, letting the question hang between us, letting the doubt grow.

“Alexi. Please.” She sighs. “It's easier this way.”

She's out of the car before I can answer. I follow, catch her arm — whatever's happening right now, I'm not letting her walk away believing I'm okay with this, watching her disappear a little more every day until there's nothing left.

“Stop. Alexia. Just please, stop. Easier for who?”

Her shoulders slump, and her arm grows heavy in my hand. “Easier for you.”

I pull her so she's facing me, so she's forced to hear my words.

“No. Don't pretend this is about me. I never asked for easier. This is about you. That you need it to be easier. Just admit it. Because I'm not afraid of hard. I would walk into hell and back for you, Alexia. And I think you know that. I would do anything for you. I would do anything to be with you.”

I cup her cheek. Her eyes are already full, like a glass bowl in the early morning light.

“That's just it.” Her voice barely holds together. “Maybe I don't want you to have to do that for me. Maybe I want what's easier, what's best for you.”

“Why don't you let me decide what's best for me.” The words come out slow and definite. “Because I already know. What's best for me is you. It's always been you.”