Page 123 of Vicious Butterfly
My brain screams.
The urge to do violent things overwhelms me.
I can’t function like that. But I also can’t live without him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I take a breath and do my best to be Coach Tate, but my hands shake. I slide them into my pockets and approach my brother’s office door, leaning against it. He’s packing, a longing gaze focused on his desk. My brother doesn’t have a thing for furniture. He’s fucked McKinnon over that desk, hasn’t he?
“I heard what happened,” I say.
He startles.
“It’s fine, Tate. I only did this for you. I’m leaving a little early, that’s all.”
“You did this for me, and I promised I’d do this for you.” I pull my hand out of my pocket, twisting the ring. Ryan can’t even wear his. It drives me fucking crazy.
“You went through with it? Fuck, sorry. I was supposed to help you with that.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have asked you for help with this one; it was mine to figure out.”
“You got his father’s permission?”
“Sort of,” I say, even though it’ll be a cold day in hell before Henry ever lets his son marry me. “Still working on that part. Now that we’ll have the money, it will be a lot easier.”
I want to get away from this topic. Ryan’s still in danger while he’s at college because of Henry. Clarence is an unpinned grenade ready to go off in my life. Thinking about them won’t help this conversation.
“It’s not love,” I say, twisting the ring on my finger. Maybe … maybe for the first time I wish it could be. “But I’d put him in the fucking ground myself before I let anyone else touch him.”
Luke flinches.
Right, I don’t usually talk like that in front of Luke.
It’s not as if I mean it literally; I’d never hurt Ryan, but the sentiment fucking stands—our fates are tied. He belongs to me, and no one gets to touch him.
I scrub a hand over my face. I can’t spiral in front of Luke. “I’ve tried to stay away. I really fucking tried. But he’s under my skin like poison, and I can’t cut him out without bleeding to death. It’s … like trying to quit breathing, Luke. Is it like that for you and Ace? Hmm? Every time I go without him, I get a little more unhinged. And then I see him, and it’s …”
I’ve already said way too much, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Ryan is the house I’ve built with my bare hands that’s caught fire. I don’t go in because it’s smart; I go in because he’s mine.”
20
TATE
Ihate coming here. If I have it my way, the estate will be burned to the ground by next week. I have to see how much Luke wants it first. It’s his now—or it will be once Clarence gets his ass here. All the gold, black marble, and opulence Jasper loved towers over me, pressing me down. Water ripples all the way to a staircase built in shallow stone increments. There was no sneaking out of the house at night, not when getting to the driveway required a rowboat.
Okay, so maybe I managed it a time or two, but it was really hard.
“Shall we?” Luke says, smiling.
His cheerfulness has perplexed me since he picked me up from campus, insisting we travel together. Brotherly bonding, he said, but sickening guilt’s driving his actions. Maybe that irritating smile, too. I may have gone a little too far, rubbing it in that he should have trusted me, rather than falling victim to another of Uncle Jasper’s games. I don’t blame him—I know how conniving the man was—but it stung. Mostly because I hate that Uncle Jasper’s still winning from the underworld. But also, it lends some truth to Uncle Jasper’s words—his mission in life, other than torturing me, was to convince Luke that I’d turn onhim given the chance. If his plan had worked, I wouldn’t even know who to blame.
Uncle Jasper’s treachery?
Luke’s naivety?
Or my selfish personality?
