Page 28 of Inseparable
I deserve to lose her love and respect. To lose their friendship.
I deserve it all.
Dad is right.
I am a useless piece of shit and I’ll amount to nothing.
I’m garbage, and they’re better off without me anyway.
Ayden
I always thought my feelings would be the sword to come between us. Never in a million years did I think Devin would be the one to destroy our bond. That his inability to keep it in his pants would end our story in such a sordid way. Devin’s desire to plant his seed in every vagina within a ten-mile radius has ripped our friendship apart. I thought we were stronger than that, but we’re not.
I will never forgive him.
Never.
All he had to do was stay away from her. He promised me he would. But he couldn’t even do that much for her, for me.
Who does that? What kind of friend could do that to anotherfriend?
My arm throbs, and I cradle it to my chest, still struggling to accept the fact Devin did this to me. I know I got a few good punches in too, but I would never have let it get so far. I would have stopped myself. I saw the look in his eyes as he lashed out, and the desire to inflict pain was written all over his face. In that moment, he hated me, truly hated me, and I doubt he could have stopped himself even if he wanted to.
That thought sticks in my gut.
My feelings when it comes to Devin right now are a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
But I know what I need to do.
I need to stay away from him. Lina needs to stay away from him. We’ll cut him loose, and he can bury himself in pussy and booze to his heart’s content.
He’s written the end of our story, and there’s no happy epilogue. He’s made his choice, and he’ll have to deal with the consequences because he’s out of our lives.
I’m going to erase him as if he never existed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Angelina
I hold Ayden’s hand in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. We don’t talk, but no words are necessary. When they take him away to x-ray his arm, I pace the hallways, praying it’s not broken.
Ayden’s parents are inconsolable and too upset to look for answers right now, which I’m grateful for because I don’t know how to explain it to them. But Mom isn’t so easily deflected. “We’re going on a coffee run,” she says to the Carters. “We’ll bring you back some.” Gently taking my arm, she steers me down the corridor to the elevator. She doesn’t say a word until we’re seated in the small coffee station downstairs, nursing steaming-hot coffee. I take a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. This stuff would put hairs on your chest.
“I know you’re upset about Ayden, but I need to know what that fight was about and why both those boys were in your room in the middle of the night.”
“Please, Mom.” My tone is pleading. “It’s six a.m. and I’m exhausted. Can’t we do this later?”
She smiles over my head, waving at two nurses who pass by. “The Carters will need answers, and I don’t want to lie to them.” Stretching across the table, she takes my hand. “You can tell me anything, honey. You know that. You have nothing to fear from telling the truth.”
I sigh, rubbing my tired face. “You know I tell you most things, Mom, but I haven’t told you everything.”
“Sometimes moms just know.” I arch a brow, and she squeezes my hand, smiling softly. “If this is about you loving Devin, I already know. I’ve always known.”
Tears threaten to surface again. “It doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t love me back and he’s humiliated me in front of most of our class, and now he might have ruined Ayden’s football career, and I don’t think I even know him anymore. Devin’s ruined everything, and I feel so sick.” A sob travels up my throat, and I force myself to take deep breaths, to calm down. I don’t want to lose it in the cafeteria of Mom’s workplace and embarrass her or myself.
She gets up, moving around the table, and sits down beside me. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart. It’ll help to talk about it.”
It flows out of me like a river, and Mom pats my arm as I fill her in, leaving nothing out. I rest my head on her shoulder when I’m finished, thoroughly emotionally and physically drained.
