“Fuck yourself.”
“No, thanks.”
“I was a kid,” I manage. “And you…you were old enough to know that.”
He withdraws, leaning back. The unlit cigarette flicks against his thumb. It reminds me of the way Della picks at her nail until it bleeds. Controlled pain.
“I regret that,” he says finally. “If I could go back and change things, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
I can’t speak. There’s so much anger in me right now, I can’t. There are no words to describe the nights I spent staring at the ceiling and wishing none of it had happened. I want to go back to before what Holly did changed me fundamentally. Now, I can’t stop grieving over the man I could have been without her, without Brothers swooping in to pick over my bones when she was done.
“I could kill you,” I say finally.
“I’d be honored.”
Nothing is more frustrating than hating someone who won’t fucking hate me back. Impassive, he flicks his lighter and inhales.
“God, you never stop, huh?” I run a hand over my face.
“Love is a terrible thing,” he says. “I think mine is the worst of it. I’ve never loved anybody who wasn’t worse off for it.”
He must have changed, because he’s right about that. Nobody’s love was more destructive to me than his, except for Holly.
But understanding doesn’t mean I owe him a damn thing. If we weren’t in the middle of a diner with a few dozen people around, I’d hit him with a right hook and walk out with his blood on my knuckles—just because I can do that now, and he can’t hurt me back.
None of them can.
I don’t need anyone, so I don’t owe anyone anything.
I push my cold coffee back and stand. “I’m gonna help Della. You stay out of my way.”
He gives me a slow smile. “You haven’t really changed, Jen.”
“Goodbye.” I tap two fingers down on the table, looking him in the eye. “And don’t fucking call me Jen.”
I turn to leave.
“You’re gonna need my help getting Landis,” he drawls. “Go check out that house and tell me if you think this is a one-man job.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say.
I walk out, knowing all my words went in one ear and right out the other. He’s definitely going to contact me again. That’s fine. Today was for me. I needed to get those words out.
All I can think about as I pull out of the lot and drive away is how Della feels like grace, like the first time I’ve been offered forgiveness instead of being asked for it. I wonder if I showed her all my scars, if I told her all the worst details of my past, she would still feel like that.
I have a notion she might.
Della is a sharp woman, but with me, I discovered softness I don’t think she shows very often. I’m hurt that she was working with Brothers, but I hope she knows I really don’t hate her for it. She’s not a bad person. She’s a victim. And yet, she let me walk out without insisting I hold her problems above my own.
She likes the bitterness in me.You’re a mess of flavors, Jensen.She said it was a good thing we’re two different people with iron wills, not caring that I’m damaged goods.
My very first relationship, the one with Holly, shaped the way I relate to sex, to love, so deeply. Since then, I’ve never been more to anyone than whatever the person I’m with needs me to be.
I learned to be charming, to be good in bed to earn that five star rating the next morning. But with Della, the minute the masks came off, I cared enough not to show her a false front. To her, I don’t think I’m just a commodity, or she wouldn’t have said those things in the car this morning.
The façade came tumbling down. We fought it out, but neither one of us walked away. And here I am, going back to her like we mean something.
My fingers tighten on the wheel.
