“Nah, it’s not.”
“What do you mean?” He was there. He heard her. Heard what she said
“Like I said, my sister is insane. She’s licking her wounds right now, but she’ll be back. She’s not going to stop until you admit how you feel. If you lie? She’ll see right through you. Don’t worry, that tornado hasn’t even hit your house yet. It’s coming. Better storm-proof your windows.”
There is absolutely no way…
“Are you saying that you’d approve of this?”
Forker rolls his eyes. “Have you not listened to anything I just said? I don’t want to do the stereotypical ‘big brother’ speech, but I’m just begging you not to hurt her. The last time someone broke her heart, they broke mine, too.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know, Boss,” he says. “I know.”
Ariana has chased me since the dawn of this relationship. She’s put herself out there, begging me to give her the parts of me that I hold close. I was the one who stonewalled at the first mention of feelings. I shut her down. I didn’t fight for her. I hurt her. I don’t want to wait to land in the eye of her storm. I want to chase that storm down, put myself in the center of it, and relish in her chaos.
Forker meets my eyes and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. After a few seconds of us staring at each other, realizing what this actually means, he lets out a big breath and downs the rest of his beer with a defeated look.
“What time do you want me out of the house?”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
ariana
“Hey.”
I glance at the couch. It’s no longer his makeshift bed, but since Arden’s working and I’ve been practically living in my room, he’s been spending most of his time out here on his own, anyway. He studies my face, probably gauging if I’m about to pounce, and then gestures for me to join him.
I do, because even though I’m angry with him, I miss my brother. I’d prefer not to have this horrible, gaping pain between us—this resentment. Forgiveness is only possible after apologies are made. We’re going to have to have a conversation. It’s the only step forward.
Doesn’t mean I’m ready for it.
I slowly drop myself onto the couch and cross my arms in front of myself. A shield, I think.
He lowers the volume on the TV and turns to face me. His eyes are brighter today, his face has more colour. I guess that happens when the love of your life starts talking to you again after weeks of icing you out.
“I’m sorry.”
I blink, my brow furrowing. That was quicker than I expected. Much more to the point, too. “What?”
“I realize how overbearing I’ve been with you,” he starts, rubbing his hands together. “In my head, Ari, everything that I do is for your own good. That doesn’t make me right, it makes me…feel better. When you listen to the things that I think are best for you,Ifeel better.”
I continue to listen, but I don’t offer any words.
“But that’s the thing. I don’t consider what makesyoufeel better. What makesyouhappy. I just try to avoid the things that have the power to make youunhappy.” He studies my face and swallows. “I’ve been so preoccupied with making sure that I never have to see you the way you were when you were seventeen again that I haven’t stopped to consider that youaren’ta seventeen-year-old girl anymore, Ari. You’re an adult now, and you’re strong and smart, and I should trust you.”
My eyes burn as I chew on the inside of my cheek, hating the way each word hurts in the best way. I feel heard. I feel like he finallylistenedto me. I talk a lot, but he doesn’t always hear me.
“You can make your own decisions, and I should trust you to know what’s best for yourself,”he says, smiling gently, but it’s still twinged with pain. “You don’t need me anymore.”
I stare at him, a tear slipping down my cheek. That’s not true. That will never be true. “I’ll always need you.”
He stills, pressing his lips into a tight line.
“You’re my big brother,” I say, my voice shaking as I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.
He sniffs, dragging a hand over his face, and forces his gaze to the coffee table. We sit in that pocket of silence for a second. Me, crying quietly, and him, trying not to.
