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“Yeah,” I countered. “Because you fucking stink.”
She gasped, her eyes as wide as quarters. Pain entered her expression, but I couldn’t seem to stop exploding.
“This entire fucking apartment reeks,” I went on, pointing at the overflowing coffee table. “You haven’t left this couch for an entire week, and I’m done letting you trash the place. This pity-party, moping session, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, is over. You got that? No more.”
For a moment, she just stared at me, her mouth falling open. I had to admit, I was alarmed by what I’d said too. Even I knew I’d crossed a line. But it felt as if I’d been pushed over it. I just could not watch her do this to herself a minute longer.
“What the fuck ever!” she finally bellowed, glaring at me. “You can’t tell me what to do. You have no say in my life whatsoever.”
“Well, I just made a say.” Stepping closer, I pointed to the floor between us. “Because over my fucking dead body will I let Topher Nicholl reduce you to this! Do you hear me? He does not win this one. You are so much more than this, Haven. You are a bright, beautiful, charming, smart girl, and you are going to get over this breakup. I don’t care if I have to drag you there by the hair. You’re overcoming it. And he stops controlling you right now.”
Haven stared at me a moment longer before the defiant spark in her eyes dimmed and her chin trembled. A moment later, tears flooded her lashes and she was full-on crying. Burying her face into her hands, she curled her shoulders in around herself and shook with huge, overwhelming sobs.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed, feeling like the asshole I knew I was. “HayHay.”
Voice breaking, I reached out.
But as soon as my hand touched her arm, she snapped into action, slapping me away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
I lifted my hands and took a step back. Then I clutched my head, feeling as if I was going to shatter. I’d hurt her. I’d really fucking hurt her. It was the last thing I’d ever wanted to do.
Why the hell had I gone off on her like that? Why…?
A shudder of regret tore through my chest. Dropping my hands, I tried to catch her eye. “Haven, I—”
But with a hard expression, she refused to let me apologize. Muttering, “Excuse me,” she brushed past. “I have to take a shower.” Marching down the hall and entering the bathroom, she shut the door with a quiet click.
A minute later, I heard shower water running.
I sighed, weary and defeated, telling myself I definitely should not have interceded. Then I got to work, filling another trash bag full of food containers, wrappers, and disposable cups.
I swear, she spent forty-five minutes in the shower. By the time she opened the door and exited, I had everything cleaned up in the front room and real food ready for her in the kitchen.
With bare feet and wet hair, wearing a T-shirt that wasn’t as large and baggy as the one she’d been in all week plus a pair of jeans, she shyly stepped into the kitchen.
I nodded toward the table. “I made you some supper.” My voice was low, apologetic.
She eased closer to study the spread of saltines and homemade vegetable soup. When she glanced up again, all she said was, “Comfort food.”
I shrugged. “It’ll be good for you. Better than…” I trailed off, not sure how to put—
“The shit I’ve been eating all week?” she said for me.
I rubbed my face, leaning heavily against the counters as she sat at the table. “Haven, I’m so fucking sorry for the way I went off on you. I don’t know why I—”
“It’s fine,” she murmured placidly, not looking at me as she took a tentative sip from her spoon.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not fine. I was an asshole.”
She glanced up and agreed softly, “Yeah.”
“And I was scared,” I added.
Her brow furrowed. “Scared?”
“Fuck yes, scared,” I hissed. “You’ve been like this for a week. A freaking week. And I’m the only person who knew, who truly knew it. You’re telling your family everything’s okay, making them believe you’re fine and going to classes every day. Your teachers think you’re with family. But you’re not any of that. And I wasn’t sure what was going through your head. Jesus, what if you were suicidal, and I came home one of these days to find you…gone. That would’ve been on me.”
She frowned, thinking about that. Then she shook her head. “I’m not suicidal.”
