Nowhere except deeper into misery.
Jo finally shatters the increasingly stale silence, hissing out a plea through gritted teeth. “Take it already.”
“What?”
“Take. The damn. Pie.”
My eyes flicker to it, then return to her face. “Why?”
“My arms are getting tired, that’s why!”
“Then take it home. Give it to someone else.” I swallow harshly. “I don’t want it.”
“What kind of psychopath doesn’t accept a fresh-baked pie?” She jerks the dish another inch forward, so the rim bumps my stomach. “Just take it!”
“You’re acting like a crazy person.”
“And you’re acting like a total dickhead!” She glares at me fiercely. “Which shouldn’t be much of a surprise, given that seems to be your new standard. Tell me, when the aliens abducted you last summer and switched out your brain, did you get a say in the new personality type they installed or was it a surprise to you too?”
“Cute,” I mutter flatly. “Are we done, now?”
“No, we are not done now,” she snaps. The pie dish is quivering — whether from sheer anger or from her overexerted arm muscles, I’m not certain. “I came here to find out what the hell is going on with you, and I’m not leaving until I get some answers!”
“I thought you came here to thank me.”
Her mouth drops open. “Um. Right. I…”
“So, the pie is a ruse, then.”
“No.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Of course not. I truly did want to thank you! But I…”
I press my eyes closed as she stammers into silence.
I want her gone.
No.
I need her gone.
Having her here is too hard. Looking at her this close, hearing the little catch in her voice, watching the light flicker over her features… and not being able to touch her, to laugh with her, to offer her comfort in the midst of her confusion…
It’s absolute torture.
It’s like getting a tiny taste of something delicious that you know, down to the marrow of your bones, you’ll never again have access to. You’d be better off never tasting it. Because every other flavor, for the rest of your life, will be dull by comparison. That one sample of perfection will haunt you until you leave this earth.
Not a gift; a curse.
An echo.
A ghost.
Having half of you would be worse than none at all, Jo told me once, last summer. I understand that now, more acutely than ever before. I’d rather not see her at all than do this constant dance of self-deprivation; rather our paths never cross if it means constantly pretending not to care.
I rip my own heart from my chest over and over again, trying to protect hers. And every time, it gets a little harder. Every time, a little less of me comes back to life after she walks away from me.
So… end it.
Make this the last time.
Make sure, when she leaves…
She does not come back.
Not ever.
My anger, long-simmering, boils up to the surface before I can stop it. I’m suddenly furious — furious at Jo for coming here; furious at myself for fucking everything up so thoroughly; furious at the whole damn world for being rigged against us from the start.
My eyes snap open. Whatever she sees in their depths makes her own eyes widen in surprise. Her mouth opens to ask something, but I don’t give her the chance. Letting my arms fall to my sides, I take an abrupt step forward, onto the landing, forcing her backwards. Using my body to crowd her away from my threshold, toward the stairwell. She retreats instinctually, unprepared for my sudden advance.
“You what, Jo? Thought you’d come here and pepper me with questions? You thought you’d hand me a pie and bat your eyes at me and… what? We’d be best friends again? Just like—” I snap my fingers; she flinches at the sound. “That?”
“You don’t have to be cruel.”
Oh, but I do.
It’s the only way to make you go.
I tilt my head, considering her. “Whatever you came here looking for… Whoever you came here looking for… I can’t give it to you.” Bitterness unfurls on my tongue, coils into a strangled sound. “So you might as well turn around and go back to your perfect life, with your perfect parents, and your perfect future. That’s where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged.”
“What does that mean?” Her gaze sweeps over my face, trying to make sense of my words. “Whatever world I belong in, you belong to it too. You always have.”
A bark of cold laughter bursts from my chest. I can’t hold it back. “I never belonged to your world, Jo. Not really. And we both know it. I was just your little pet — a stray you collected from the pound, shoved into a fancy collar and allowed to mingle for a while with the purebreds. A charity case.”
Her head is shaking. So is her voice. “That’s not true and you know it! You’re twisting things! Rewriting history. Making it sound like—”
“Like, what? Like I wasn’t the boy from the poor immigrant family? Like you weren’t the princess of privilege?”
“That never mattered to me. It never mattered to you, either.”
“Of course it mattered!” I’m yelling, now, my fury rising like a tide. “The fact that you think it didn’t matter only further proves my point.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“The world isn’t the safe little bubble we pretended it was, growing up at Cormorant House. We aren’t kids anymore.”
“I know that!”
“Do you?” I ask ruthlessly. “Because you aren’t acting like it. You’re acting like a five-year-old, whose world still operates on pinky promises and giggles and the golden rule.”
“So in your eyes, I’m a monster because I look for the best in people? Because I search for sliver linings? I didn’t realize that was such a terrible crime!” Her volume shoots up in proportion with her anger, rising to meet mine. “God, Archer! I came here today— against my better judgment, I might add — because I wanted to make sure you were all right! Because, the other day, after the storm… I felt like something with you was just… off.”
I suck in a sharp breath, trying to keep my composure. I should’ve known she’d put two-and-two together. She’s too damn perceptive. She always was. Thankfully, right now, she’s too upset to do anything except yell in my face.
“I came here to find out why you’re here. Why you’re not at Bryant, or some intense summer training camp, where you’re supposed to be. Why you’re working as a lobsterman instead of off conquering the world of collegiate baseball.”
She’s a hairsbreadth away from the truth.
So close.
Too close.
I feel exposed.
Caught in a headlight beam.
Frozen in place.
Her face is flushed with exasperation as she glares up at me. Her hands are wrapped tight around the pie dish, a white-knuckled grip. “Honestly, I figured something must be seriously wrong. That something must’ve happened — something so bad, maybe you felt like you couldn’t tell me about it. But if this is what I get in return — insults and anger and snide remarks — I’m not sure why I bothered.” She bares her teeth at me, a smile lacking all warmth. “I guess I’m an idiot for caring at all. I mean, why the hell would I want to find out what’s going on with you, when you’ve made it so abundantly clear you don’t want me involved in any facet of your life?”