Page 174 of Make Me Mean It

Marcus stares at me.

I stare at the floor.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes eventually, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He’s your best friend,” I mutter, because apparently if I’m going to make this worse, I might as well really fucking commit to it.

“I’m aware.”

“I didn’t mean for—”

“Connor.” Marcus groans and drops his hand. “Please stop reminding me you’ve been screwing my best friend. I’m already going to need fucking therapy.”

Another laugh tries to escape me, but it doesn’t make it very far.

Because all I can see is Theo pulling away from my hand.

You don’t get to do that. Not anymore.

My chest tightens again.

“I hurt him, Marc.”

Marcus goes quiet.

“I really fucking hurt him.”

There’s no hiding from it now. No telling myself Theo knew what this was, because he didn’t. Neither of us did. I kept dragging him close whenever I wanted him and shoving him away the second wanting him meant something I wasn’t ready to look at.

And Theo let me.

That might be the part that hurts the most.

He let me because having whatever pieces of me I was willing to give him was better than having none at all.

Marcus exhales beside me, long and slow, and some of the tension finally seems to drain out of him. He doesn’t tell me it’s okay. Doesn’t try to make it smaller than it is.

He just shifts and lifts his arm.

That’s all it takes.

I fold into him without thinking, dropping against his chest and tucking my head into the familiar space between his shoulder and chest. The same place I used to hide when I was younger, when everything felt too fucking big and Marcus could somehow make it manageable just by being there.

His arm closes around me.

And for the first time in days, I stop trying so fucking hard to hold myself together.

Marcus’s arm comes around me automatically, pulling me tighter against him, his hand moving slowly up and down my arm in a steady rhythm. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t think I have anything left to say without making myself feel worse.

“Well,” he says eventually, quieter now, the anger from earlier finally gone from his voice. “What are we going to do then?”

I frown against his chest, not bothering to lift my head. “What?”

Marcus shifts slightly beneath me. “You’re not seriously just gonna let him go, are you?”

That gets me to look at him.

He’s staring down at me like I’ve just said something fucking ridiculous, and I blink back, trying to work out when exactly Marcus went from punching Theo in the face to apparently trying to save whatever the fuck is left between us.