He’s staring at me as if I punched him in the face.
“I had to get extra rope,” he yells, the heavy winds drowning out his voice.
I want to squeeze him, shake him, hit him, anything to make him feel something. Say something, give me literally anything. Burying my fists in his shirt, I yank his body toward mine, sneering in his face with all of the pent up anger and frustration over the last three years.
“I said I was worried about you,” I seethe.
“Why do you care, Ellis?” Shoving away, he tries to get out of my grasp, but I don’t let him go.
“What do you mean, why do I care? I never stopped caring, Nash.”
“Well, stop! I can’t be what you want.”
“What do you mean?” I yell, still holding his shirt. It’s not the best place to have this argument, but the words are spilling out of me, and a minute ago I literally thought he could be dead, so I can’t stop them now. “You are exactly what I want, Nash. I never asked you to be anything more than you are.”
This time he pushes harder, tearing his shirt from my fists. Dropping the rope on the ground, he lays two palms directly into my chest causing me to stumble.
“I couldn’t live up to him, Ellis. How could I possibly live up to you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m not Alistair. I’m not my father. I will never be my father, never be good enough. And you…Mr. Fucking Perfect. I can’t be your…what? Your boyfriend? Fuck that, Ellis. Fuck that and fuck you. I’d rather be alone.”
“Rather be alone than be with someone who thinks you are perfect? I don’t understand you.”
He’s raging, the wild fury in his eyes as he shoves me in the chest again. “Yeah, well I don’t need you to understand me. Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t. You’re the one who brought me out here! You’re depriving yourself of something good, of real happiness because you can’t bear the thought someone will find your flaws?”
“Fuck off, Ellis!” I see the clench of his fist, and I’m waiting for him to let it fly. I almost crave it. Hit me. Hurt me. Something.
“Stop it!” a small voice screams, barely heard over the downpour. Hanna clings to Nash’s arm, tearing him away. “Both of you, stop it! Get inside before you get yourselves killed out here!”
“Come on, Nash, hit me. Punch me! You know you want to.”
“Ellis, stop it!” she shrieks.
It’s not that I’m ignoring her. It’s that her words are not registering past the rage. “Will it make you feel better? Just fucking hit me! Then we can be done with this!”
“I’m already done,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
“You guys, please!” She’s clawing at both of us now, but were both too locked in this battle.
“Bullshit,” I reply with a dark laugh. “Come on, hit me!”
He’s pulling back his elbow, and I’m ready for it. I’m waiting for the impact. I clench my jaw, and tilt my face, hoping he gets a hit on my cheek and not my jaw. But just as he’s about to swing, Hanna moves in a desperate reflex to stop us. She bolts to his arms, pulling down his face and latching onto his mouth with her own.
I watch in shock as the hot poker of jealousy stabs me right in the heart, and somewhere in my head, I register the fact that she’s choosing him. Even after I mentally pulled myself out of the race, I must have been holding onto hope, but this pretty clearly stakes a claim. His shoulder relaxes as he melts into her kiss, even in this harsh storm.
Watching them touch each other, my fight fades. Before I can do anything, she pushes away from his arms and turns to mine. I don’t even know what’s happening until she’s kissing me. It’s a harsh, rough kiss, her nails hard against the back of my neck. It immediately registers that she’s doing this to diffuse the situation and stop us from beating the shit out of each other, but when she’s ripped from my arms and back in Nash’s, I’m hit with a wave of possessiveness, and I clutch her to my body even as he’s kissing her again.
She lets him kiss her for a moment, but when I string my hand around her throat, she pulls away from him panting and turns toward me.