Page 39 of Friends That Heal Us
My eyes shift to him. “Okay. What about?”
“It’s about what Rya—” He’s cut off by the doorbell. Both of us stare back at each other, eyes wide.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VIOLET
“Who do you think that is?”I ask, my head slightly falling back from dread.
“I’ll get it,” Ezra says dreadfully as he stands up.
I nod, thankful that he’s willing to shoo away whoever is at the door. I haven’t looked at myself yet, but I would say after my angry, crying rage I’m not looking presentable. I throw the bracelets that Zayn and Rya made for me away and place Ezra’s on my jewelry stand.
I shift my focus back to all the jewelry that I need to clean up but I pause when I hear a woman’s voice in the distance.
Is it my neighbor?
I sit quietly trying to listen in on what she’s saying to get a better idea of what’s going on and who it is. Then the voices go silent followed by the front door shutting.
My brows pinch together as I head for the door to see who it could be. Once I hit the stairs, that squeaky high pitch voice is one I can make out almost instantly.
Rya.
I let out a groan. What the hell does she want?
I get closer to the front door and listen in on what she’s bitching about now.
“How could you do this to us? She’s my best friend, and now you’re living with her,” she says in her broken whimper.
I roll my eyes at the audacity she thinks she has to question what Ezra is doing. It’s a playback of the bullshit Zayn pulled yesterday. He must have told her Ezra moved in. There is no other way she would have found out. My blood is boiling like it did when Zayn was here, questioning the exact same thing. The two of them destroyed everything, and now they’re acting like the victims. They’re twisting everything. Why can’t they get over themselves and move on? That’s what Ezra and I are trying to do.
I grab the door handle and whip the door open so fast both of them jerk back. I glare at Rya; her face is red and streaked with tears. The sight of her twists my stomach. She disgusts me just as much as Zayn does now.
“What the fuck do you want?” I say harshly.
I’m done.
I’m so done with them walking all over us. They can’t come here whenever they feel like it and act like we’re going to bow down to them.
Her face drops as if she’s in so much pain. I don’t see the pain. I see betrayal. “Why would you do this to me?”
She’s close enough that I wince when I smell the liquor. When I step closer towards her, her eyes go wide. “You. Fucked. My. Husband,” I say as she takes a step back. “You. Fucked. His. Best. Friend.” I point to Ezra. “Did I say that slow enough for you to comprehend?” I pause, waiting for an answer. She swallows the lump in her throat; her eyes are wide and she stares back at me. “You and Zayn need to get over yourselves and move the fuck on like we’re trying to do.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, then look over at Ezra and realize he’s in a similar pose.We look like two bodyguards, guarding my house from this crazy lady. Do my neighbors see or hear us? If they do, I wonder what they’re thinking.
“So it’s true?”
“Is what true?”
“You two are sleeping together?”
My eyes roll back. Has she always been this dumb too? “Why are you playing the victim?”
“I’m not. I…”
I cut her off. “You are!” I shout, pointing at her, with my chest heaving. “Do you not get it?” My hands ball into fists. “You were supposed to be my best friend—my sister—and you went behind my back and fucked my husband. Do you even realize what you did to me? Do you care? I haven’t gotten a damn thing from you. Not an apology, an explanation, a reason why it happened, or a pathetic excuse, nothing!” I shout again, squaring my shoulders, and take a step towards her again. My voice is sharp and uneven; I’m trying to catch a breath but the rage is vibrating inside of me. “You tore my life apart and now you stand here trying to play the victim.”
She flinches, avoids my stare, and blinks rapidly as her gaze darts to the ground. Her throat works as though she wants to speak, but no words come.
Only silence.
