Page 216 of What We Break
He flinches. Actually flinches.
He looks down at his bloody hands.
"I didn't hate you," he says quietly.
"Bullshit. You treated me like dirt. You used my secrets against me. You made me feel like I was crazy."
"I know."
"Thenwhy?"
He takes a shaky breath. He looks at me, and the look in his eyes scares me. It’s desperate.
"Because I'm in love with you."
The rain keeps falling. A car drives by a few streets over.
I just stand there.
"What?"
"I've been in love with you since the first night Reid brought you home." The words come out fast, messy. "From the moment you smiled at me in the kitchen. I saw you, and I knew."
I wait for it to make sense. I wait for the romantic music to swell.
It doesn't.
Instead, a wave of nausea rolls through me so strong I almost gag.
It feels like a violation. Every cruel thing he said, every cold look, every time he made me feel small or unwanted—he’s trying to wrap all of that in a word that’s supposed to mean safety. He’s trying to make his cruelty sound noble.
"You're kidding," I say.
"No."
"You love me?" My voice goes up an octave, sharp and cracking. "That's your excuse? You love me, so you tore at me? You love me, so you tried to destroy my relationship with your best friend?"
"I tried to stop," he says, and he’s crying now. Actual tears mixing with the blood on his face. "I tried to hate you. I thought if I pushed you away, I could finally leave. I could stop wanting what belonged to him."
"So you decided to hurt me instead."
"Yes."
"That is so twisted." I step back, wiping the rain from my face, needing to put distance between us. I feel dirty just hearing it. "You don't get to call that love, Blake. You don't get to use that word."
"I know it's messed up?—"
"It’s not messed up. It’s sick." I’m shaking now, and it’s not from the cold. "Love is protection. Love is wanting the other person to be happy, even if it’s not with you. What you did? That isn't love. That’s possession. That’s selfishness with a coat of paint on it."
"I know."
"No, you don't know!" I yell, and my voice echoes off the wet pavement. "Because if you actually loved me—if you had even a tiny clue what that word meant—you never would have made me feel like I was worthless. You burned down my life because you were jealous?"
"Yes."
"And you sacrificed Reid? You sacrificed the one person who actually gave a damn about you?"
He nods. He takes it. He looks like a man facing a firing squad, hoping to get shot.
