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As a kid, the times that Dante would sometimes join us were the best memories of my life. I always felt triumphant when I convinced him to play with us—when he forgot to act like he was too cool for his younger brother. I don’t love him, but I do care about him. And I guess that’s why I’ve been willfully blind to all his faults for so long.
There was something in him I’d always ached to see. It was as though, even when he was spending time with us, he was still on the outside. That he was always looking in, rather than belonging. For so long, I desperately wanted to fix that. To bridge the gap. I was certain it was because he fought with their dad while Knox didn’t. Somehow that rift spilled over and put distance between Dante and Knox, too.
Now, I know it’s a lie. I fooled myself because I was too busy swooning over his brown eyes. He was a hard bastard.
I had always imagined a softer side to him. But it was never real.
I’m brought out of my self-pity by Knox. He smiles at me as I take off my headphones.
“Sorry,” I mutter as he opens his arms and I quickly step into them, still shaking.
“For what? Sticking up for me?” Knox pats my head and laughs. “Hell, Kylie. I’m proud of you. I know how hard that must have been for you.”
His words help me feel a little better. “A lot of good it did me when I just ran and hid,” I scoff, shaking my head.
Knox steps back, holding my shoulders as he peers intently at me. “It’s a start. You should try to be assertive more often. I honestly think you rendered my brother speechless for a moment.”
“I doubt that. I try to be assertive, but I hate feeling like I hurt other people’s feelings.” I sigh. “And I usually end up feeling terrible afterward, anyway.”
“Think about it like exercise. The more you do it, the easier it will be.” He kisses my cheek. “I need to go home to talk with Callum. I’ll lock up so nobody can bug you.”
So Dante can’t bug me, he means. I nod, not wanting to admit that I’d rather not be alone. But luckily, that brief talk with Knox helps to soothe me. I can focus again on painting, and this time I’m able to relax into it. I paint a tear-shaped drop of liquid sunshine and hesitate.
The memory of the first time I ever really talked to Dante floods my mind.
I ring Knox’s doorbell, skipping on the spot in my excitement. Mrs. Kendall told me that the treehouse is ready! I can’t wait to check it out. It’s going to be so much fun!
The door opens to a scowling face. Dante’s expression melts into confusion when I see him. His eyes are red and puffy like he’s been crying. If I ask, though, he’ll just say it’s allergies.
I give him a great big smile, hoping to make him feel better. “Hi, Dante! The treehouse is done, I want to see if Knox can come play.”
Dante wrinkles his nose at me, drawing himself up so that his chest is puffed out like a bird. “Knox isn’t here. He went to go play with Jaxson and Asher. Clearly, you’re not his ‘best friend’ anymore. Soon he’s going to forget all about you.”
I shake my head, sighing. “You don’t get it. I can have more than one best friend, and so can Knox. But since he’s not here, do you want to come play at the treehouse?”
His eyes widen. For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to say yes, then he folds his arms and sneers at me. “I’m too old for treehouses. And you are, too.”
My lip starts to tremble so I turn away quickly before he can see that his words hurt. I’m only in first grade and Dante is in fourth—we aren’t too old for a treehouse. My shoulders slump as I head back home.
But as I walk away, I can’t help but think about how sad Dante always looks. I wish I could help him. I hope that he’ll find a way to be happy soon.
I pull myself out of the memory. He wore the same arrogant sneer that day that he did downstairs. Have I been wrong about him my entire life? Or is there something in Dante Lewis worth fighting for?
Chapter Six
KYLIE
The night after my blowout fight with Dante, I can’t sleep. I keep reliving the confrontation and changing it every time. Sometimes I slap Dante across the face and feel bad for resorting to imaginary physical violence. Other times I break down in melodramatic sobs and he feels so bad that he changes his entire life.
Mostly, though, I just make him feel as bad as he made me feel, and then he walks away.
It’s all imaginary, though, and by the time morning dawns, I’m exhausted and still hurt by his words. How shark-like his eyes had turned as he utterly dismissed everything that I’ve worked for.
I can’t tell if I’m more humiliated by his words or the attraction I’ve harbored toward him all these years.
One thing is certain—Knox is right. If I knew how to hold my ground, I wouldn’t have turned tail and run so easily. I might have been able to actually stop Dante from being a bully.
Not that I’m sure it would make a difference. The man seems stuck in his ways.
