I spin around. “No. You weren’t. You were being a dick, and I’m done with it. And you”—I point a finger at River—“need to chill out and take the Flowers in the Attic down a few notches. I get that you want to protect me or whatever the heck you think you’re doing, but Kodiak isn’t the only villain out there. He just happens to be the one you target.” I stomp back up to my room and slam the door.
It’s just after ten. I start jamming things into my backpack. I need to get out of here before I seriously lose my shit. I’m supposed to meet Lovey and Lacey for lunch and tell them how my idiotic plan went.
Honestly, I should’ve gone to their place last night and avoided all of this. I shove my econ textbook into my bag. I also grab a change of clothes, because there’s a solid chance I’m going to spend tonight at Lacey and Lovey’s. All this testosterone is driving me crazy.
The door clicks quietly. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s my twin.
“I don’t need a lecture or a bodyguard.”
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft, low.
“I’m fine.”
“I should’ve been here last night.”
“You being here wouldn’t have changed anything. I did something without thinking it through, and that picture was Kodiak overreacting as a result. If it wasn’t him, it would’ve been you or Mav.” I turn to face him.
He’s frowning, as usual. He still looks angry, but he also looks something else . . . Confused? Sad?
“I don’t get why you would do something like this in the first place. You hate the attention, and it’s really not like you. And since when do you own a thong bikini?”
I answer the easiest question. “Since Gigi took me tanning before we went to Cancun last year.” She said it would be better for avoiding tan lines. I ended up with a seriously burnt ass. I have fair skin, and apparently when a butt has never seen the light of day, it’s more susceptible to sunburn, even with sunscreen.
“It still doesn’t explain why you’d wear it in public, though.”
“Because I’m tired of the bullshit.”
“You mean Kody?”
“I mean all of it. The double standards, the never being able to date without you guys attacking whoever it is like starved, angry pit bulls. I need a break from this.”
“I should’ve said no to him moving in here.”
“It’s not just him.”
“But he’s part of it.”
“He’s going to be here no matter what, River. He’s Mav’s best friend. They play hockey together, and he lives down the street.”
“It never used to be like this with you two.”
I rub my temples. “It’s been a lot of years since it was like anything.”
He drops his head and nudges my foot with his. Like the rest of me—apart from my boobs—my feet are small. His are ridiculously gigantic. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, but I reserve the right not to answer if I don’t feel like it.”
He nods once. “Did I fuck that up for you? Am I the reason it’s like this?”
“No, River. I’m the reason it’s like this.”
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking more kid than boy-man. “When we were kids, I hated him.”
I laugh. “I don’t think much has changed.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t like that he always seemed to be there when you were falling apart.” He’s quiet for a few moments, but I wait, aware that he’s not done. “And now, I don’t know. I feel like maybe I made things worse.”
“Why would you think that when you have nothing to do with it?”
His gaze remains focused on our feet. “I kinda do.”
“Can you explain that, please?”
He blows out a breath. “I overheard Mom and Dad talking after that thing happened at the middle school. When Kody got in trouble for lying to his dad and missing hockey practice?”
It’s funny how we all experienced that event differently. “Because of me. He got in trouble because of me.”
“You’d been having such a hard time, and I knew you were talking to Kody a lot ’cause he got you in a way I couldn’t.” He pauses, the furrow in his brow deepening. “I hated that too, that I couldn’t understand and couldn’t help.”
“I know, but there was a reason no one wanted me relying on Kodiak to get through the panic. Even he understood it.” And they were right.
“That’s what I heard Mom and Dad talking about, ’cause you were so sad and they didn’t know what to do. But Mom said some things, and I twisted them around because I wanted to think it was Kody who was making you worse. I wanted it to stop, and I thought maybe you’d rely on me more, instead of him.”
And there it is. The guilt he carries around like an anchor. Now it’s for thinking he’s the reason Kodiak and I are such a mess. “First of all, me relying on you instead of Kodiak wouldn’t have made anything better. The problem was me relying on anyone other than me. And I still don’t see how this makes what happened your fault.”
“So, I did this thing with your text messages.”
“You did what thing?” This whole conversation is making my head hurt.
“I blocked his contact on your phone so you wouldn’t get them.”
“You what? When did you do that? Why?” My throat is suddenly tight.
“Just after Kodiak’s family moved to Philly at the end of sixth grade. I knew it would only make it harder on you if he kept texting when he was so far away, so when he messaged after they moved, I saw it before you did and I messaged back.”
“As me?”
He nods. “At first I know it was hard for you, but you were better without him. Every time he messaged, you cried and had another meltdown, so I told him it was too hard to be friends with him and he needed to stop messaging. I knew it was wrong, but it was so hard to watch you struggle. I just wanted it to stop. And I know it got worse for a while, but then you got better, and I thought I’d done the right thing.”
I hold up a hand, feeling sick. “You had no right to interfere.”
“I know, Lav. I’m sorry.” He runs both of his hands through his hair.
“Right now, you’re not forgiven.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and push past him.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you and the rest of the stupidity happening in this house.” I don’t even know how to process what’s going on, or whether it means anything anyway. It doesn’t change the fact that Kodiak’s been horrible to me. But maybe it explains it. I don’t know.
Kodiak calls my name as I pass his room, but I ignore him and keep going.
The living room is empty for once. No Maverick, no random dudes, not even BJ passed out on the lounger. I shove my feet in my shoes and am out the door, cutting off the sound of feet pounding down the stairs as I slam it shut. I hit the automatic start button and thank the karma gods that I remember to unlock it before I reach the car. I yank the door open, toss my bag on the passenger seat, and practically dive inside, pulling the door closed behind me and slamming my finger on the lock button.