Page 161 of I Choose You

I gritted my teeth. Things weren’t off to a good start.

“Here I thought I could vent on a run.” He opened the door and I followed him in as he wiped his shirt over his face, removing the sweat. “I’ve got to go through a damn circus just to get home. And now you’re here. So much for a high from the endorphins.”

I closed the door behind me and slowly headed toward the living room.

He pulled his shirt off, still not facing me as he left me there, calling out as he walked toward his bedroom. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m sure you’ll use the time to rehearse another lecture.”

At least he wasn’t trying to just kick me out.

As I killed time in the living room, pacing, I reminded myself of how Brooke had put it. Good people did mean things when they were hurting. Good people could be bad because they struck out when they were vulnerable. It was Psych 101. I understood that equation, but I struggled not to see it as an excuse. Whatever made Kody act like an asshole wasn’t my damn fault. Dad had been teasing—Kody didn’t loathe me because I was the first one born. It was a classic twin joke.

Whatever bothered or wounded Kody wasn’t my responsibility. I knew my flaws, and I fucked up too, but I always owned up to those instances.

Like I was doing now.

Looking at Kody like he was the victim wouldn’t sit well forever. His issues wouldn’t grant him lifelong permission to just be an asshole to everyone—most importantly Brooke.

By the time he returned, rubbing a towel over his hair wet from his shower, I felt like I’d talked myself down from too much anger.

“I’m not apologizing for stupid shit that happened over ten years ago.”

He came out with that, and I sighed.

Stay cool.

“And you had a lot of fucking nerve pushing me in the damn lake.” He set his towel down on the counter then grabbed a water bottle.

“I didn’t intend to push you in.”

“I dropped my fucking phone in there.”

Shit. But a laugh threatened to slip out. He’d lost another phone?

“I’ll replace it.”

He paused drinking water and tipped his chin toward a brand-new device. “Too late.”

“Sorry.”

“I had a new number on there. Now I’ll never be able to call her.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

My anger flared, but I held on to it. I crossed my arms. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why wouldn’t you apologize?” I shrugged. “If it’s just some ‘stupid shit’ from years ago, what’s so scary about apologizing now?”

He set his water down so hard it splashed out. “Scary?” He scoffed. “I’m not fucking scared of her. Or saying I’m sorry.”

“Then what’s the big damn deal?”

His sneer didn’t bother me. “You tell me. You tell me what the big damn deal is about me apologizing. It’d be too little, too late. Why does it matter to you now?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” He opened his mouth to argue and I held my hand up to silence him, keeping my tone calm. “Because it wasn’t some stupid little shit. She struggles with body dysmorphia still to this day, rooted to the crap she had to put up with in high school.”