“And me?” My nostrils flared, but when he shifted, I turned away. I couldn’t look at him.
And definitely didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
I didn’t think I was strong enough for it. Because if she was his friend by choice, and regardless of her lack of availability, that only meant one thing.
That it truly wasn’t like that with her. Because he wanted it to be that way. He was friends with her because that was what he desired, but with me, he didn’t have that choice.
Because I’d made it for him.
No, I couldn’t hear that. I couldn’t let him admit that. It was too much, and I needed to leave. I eased around him.
“Brielle. Please.”
“I’m leaving.” I didn’t face him. “And you’re going to let me.”
Because he wouldn’t trap me. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t want him to do.
Of that, I knew.
I’d gotten to know this guy, this man. He played all his cards in front of me.
Always honest.
“Text me when you get to your car.”
He stated the words at my back, so easy to read him.
You have to go.
I did go into the cold air and didn’t look back.
I suppose I was weak again.
Chapter Fifteen
Ramses
I knew December was behind me even before I turned.
I think that was why I’d done it.
I think that was why I’d put it all out there and said what I had to say. I needed to hear it.
And she had as well.
I turned to find her still in her towel, completely blind-sided by whatever had just happened. I’d been too good about keeping previous things away from her. They’d been my own crosses to bear, and I’d sat in silent torture with them. They’d been my burden, my plague, and something I had to come to terms with. They’d had nothing to do with her.
But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t know.
It’d taken fear to actually admit it. To see that things had really changed. I wanted them to change, and I needed them to. They were a roadblock to getting to where I needed to go, which, surprisingly, wasn’t in December’s direction.
I glanced toward the door, December’s near-silent steps padding toward me.
“We need to talk,” she said, and I sighed.
It’d been a long time coming.
We did talk after she came back, got some clothes on. God, the clusterfuck that had become my life had been my own doing. Still, it was goddamn shitty.
December and I did have that talk, in front of my fireplace, where she sat on my coffee table and I lounged on the couch. We had a few talks this way, casual.
But never so serious.
By the end, her hands had dropped between her legs, her swallow hard. I’d hit her with a lot of shit.
“First off,” she started. A veil of her hair had hung over her face, and she drew it back, tossed her head back. She frowned. “Your mentor is a complete piece of shit.”
Oh, yeah. So, I’d told her about that too, the Brown thing. It had all just kind of come out.
I figured if I was admitting shit, coming to terms with shit, she needed to know that too, and her reaction had been one that hadn’t surprised me. She’d been pissed, gone all female cavewoman. For some reason, she felt the need to protect my honor like I wasn’t a goddamn dude.
Even still, her reaction made me smirk, but her frown only deepened.
“Second.” She ticked off a finger, then moved close. “You know what happened over there, back at Brown. You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”
I did. Not many people were in my corner besides my mom. Our lawyers had just seen it as a PR mess, the Mallick playboy. They’d thought I was just trying to get my dick wet with some taken pussy since I fit the profile, and why should they see it as any different?
I dropped my fists between my knees. “I know.”
A nod on December’s end like we’d come to a consensus, and when her lips worked, I knew the ball was about to drop. That she was about to talk about the real shit. I’d talked to her about her and me, everything about her and me. I’d basically said it without actually saying it.
She was about to say it.
Sighing, she tucked a leg beneath her, the dance of the flames from my fireplace playing on her fair skin. Not so long ago, I would have drowned in her beauty. Hell, I’d have suffered in it. Now, I just fought everything I could to sit in front of her and not be someplace else.
With someone else.
My gaze dragged back to my cell phone beside me. She’d text me. When she made it to her car. She would. She hadn’t confirmed it, but she knew I was serious.
You shouldn’t have let her leave.
Like I had a choice. She’d taken it from me. Like a couple of things and that drove me crazy. Even still, I continued to chase her.
I swallowed, December’s lips parting.
“Three is,” she started, her other leg coming up and crossing on my table. She cradled them. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”
Her statement clearly wasn’t about the things she’d ticked off. A big reason why I could keep her eyes at the moment.
I scrubbed a hand down my face before working them both. “And say what?” I faced her, shrugging. “‘Zona, I ran out of this town like a bat out of hell because I couldn’t deal.”
“Well, that would have been a start.”
“And how would I have looked?” I tilted my head. “It’s because of me you suffered. Because of my family.”
Because of my father. My father and my uncle Leo. Together, they’d stolen so much from her. When it’d come to my uncle, it was her family he’d stolen from. And my father’s theft?
Well, her closure.
She’d been so close to not knowing the truth about what happened to her sister Paige back in high school, and that’d been due to me and mine. I was a product of my father.
How could I not take responsibility for what had happened to her?
I couldn’t look her in the face every day. Fuck, back then, I couldn’t look at my own self in the mirror. All I did see was my father, what he did to land his ass in prison, so no. Woe is me wasn’t coming out of my goddamn mouth to the person who’d been the victim.
What I said appeared to pain my friend, her expression tensing, her lips pinched tight. Her head lowered, and a visible sigh racked her shoulders.
“The people who are responsible for that, what happened to my sister, are behind bars,” she said, the words from her sobering. We hadn’t talked about this in so long, not really much at all after it had happened. I’d left so quickly that summer, taken a summer class and moved to college early. I’d run. Her mouth parted. “And you know, that had nothing to do with you.”
Obviously, I hadn’t been the one to move the pieces. But it was because of my family that she and hers suffered. The Mallick name branded me.
“But I wasn’t adding to any more of the colossal shit you were going through. There wouldn’t have been a point.” It all would have been redundant, pointless. My jaw shifted. “I’m a grown man and can handle my shit.”
“But you weren’t back then.” More pain backed her eyes, her gaze drenched with it. She shook her head. “You were a boy, and I was a girl. And the only difference between us was that that girl had someone. She did and you didn’t.”