I probably shouldn’t have told him that I want her but fuck it. It’s obvious at this point or I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t have cried like a fucking baby when I got home after the funeral. I wouldn’t feel this heavy, dirty weight on my chest for making her cry.
“Admitting that you both hurt each other doesn’t make you a bad person, you know?” Miles says. When did it get hard to breathe again? And why is what he’s saying making sense to me? I hate it. “You can be angry at her for how she treated you, the same way she’s angry at you for how you treated her. It’s okay, Branson.”
That is when I start to feel it; the tightening of my chest and nothing but the sound of my own blood sloshing through my body.
I feel the hot flushes on my neck and my back, making it feel like my shirt is suffocating me. I grip onto the countertop, my other hand over my chest, smoothing it out
God, does this have to happen right now? In front of him?
I’ve been trying to keep cool about this whole thing since it happened. I know what I did was stupid and reckless, but I didn’t want to be angry at her. I can’t be angry at her. I’m the one who hurt her, but I still can’t help but think about all the time we wasted when I could have had her from the beginning. If she didn’t immediately cast me as the villain without hearing me out.
“You good?” Miles asks, coming behind me. I try to speak, but words fail me as I attempt to regulate my breathing. The more I tell myself I'm okay, the faster my heart races and the more it hurts. “Panic attack?” I nod, taking a deep breath. I glance at him as he stands beside me now, crossing his arms against his chest. I can’t tell if hearing him talking is making it better or worse. “Yeah, I used to get those, too. Not that much anymore.”
“Thanks for that, Davis. You’re really helping,” I get out, still clutching my chest. I rub my palm against my heart, trying my best to relax but it’s really fucking difficult.
“Do you remember the first day you moved in here? Me, Carter, and Xavier were trying out our first keg and it exploded all over you and your prissy suit,” Miles says, laughing at the memory. I remember that day. I remember it being one of the worst days of my life.
“What are you doing?” I choke out, basically panting.
He ignores me and continues talking. “After you got changed, we went to apologise, and you told us we’d never get on. You said we were too much for you and the only reason you were here is because your dad was being a dick. When Carter died, you fed me, and Xavier and you watched stupid cartoons with us that first night and every night after that for weeks. We never said anything because we thought we were too cool for it, and you didn’t either. When we started to get on our feet again, we still didn’t say anything. But you helped us even though you swore you wouldn’t. Because that’s what family does, Branson. We can hold grudges, but we can also be there for each other when we need it. And you’re that person. You’re always there. No matter what.”
When his rant ends, I realise I've been breathing normally again. He was distracting me. My hands still tremble, but I can feel my body slowly settling back to normal. I take in a deep breath, my chest shaking on the exhale.
“Thanks for that,” I say. He smiles wide, dimples popping out and all.
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “It's fine. I never really thanked you for that, but you should know how grateful we are. We seriously would’ve died without you.”
“I know you would have,” I say, chuckling.
“In fact, to make it up to you…” Miles starts, sounding as cheery as ever. He opens the fridge again, scanning its contents. “How about I cook tonight? I make a mean chicken salad.”
“For both of our sakes, I'll stick to cooking. You stick to doing the dishes.”
He turns back around, grinning. “Good idea”
That's when I realised that these guys have my back. They always have.
36
Scarlett
Have you ever tried to find the contact information for a guy that was pronounced dead three years ago? Because I have. And it wasn’t an easy feat.
After scouring through records at Voss HQ, I couldn’t find anything on Lucas. I know I should stop digging, but I’m still confused as fuck as to how he’s just alive and breathing like nothing happened and why nobody told me about it.
I even considered asking Arthur what was going on, but we’ve hardly spoken since he called me a whore in front of everyone at dinner. Even if I pestered him enough, I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Again.
Things have been tense in my family during the holiday period. Christmas was a shitshow. I spent Christmas Eve at my parents’ house like always and we ate dinner in near silence. I spent Christmas day with the girls, but it didn't feel anywhere near as good as it usually does.
Because Evan wasn't there, and I didn't have a tray full of bacon to shove into his mouth like I did last year. Instead, I spent the day curled up in bed, watchingThe Grinchwhile I ate my body's weight in chocolate.
For the first time in years, I stayed home on New Years Eve as I encouraged the rest of the girls to go out without me. Instead, I stayed in bed, alternating between texting my therapist or Evan. In the end I settled for neither, preferring the comfort of popcorn and a cheesy sitcom.Dr. Nelson is concerned, but I promised I’d call her back eventually.
It took days, hours, and hours of staring at a screen and flicking through books and calling random people until I finally found Lucas’s number. I used my burner phone to call him so he would actually answer. Still, I have no idea what I’m planning on saying until the phone connects.
“Hey, it’s Scarlett. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I just wanted to speak to you. You know, about you being alive and all that,” I say, trying to make light of the situation as I ramble on. I watch the black and white clock on my bedroom wall tick as he doesn’t say anything. I double check that he hasn’t ended the call on me, lifting my feet up to rest on my desk. “Hello?”
“I already told you what you want you need to know, Scarlett,” he says finally. Good. At least he’s talking. Sort of. I’m not a fan of his tone, though. He sounds annoyed – pissed, even.
