happened?” he asks, deadpanned and aware, as if he knows what’s going on inside my head, as if he has any fucking clue.
“Nothing,” I mumble, shutting down, immediately closing up so he can’t see what’s behind the mask.
I step away from the counter, pushing past him toward the bedroom in a desperate attempt to flee. I need to walk away, brood alone until this terrible episode passes, and I can breathe again. But no, he pushes because that’s what Ellis does.
He prods and demands and controls, leaving no room to breathe or fidget or lie. And as he grabs my arm, giving me an expression that looks almost like worry, I sneer at him.
His fingers release my arm immediately, so I guess the anger in my face was enough.
“Talk to me,” he says, his deep voice carrying through the silence.
Storming out of the bedroom in my underwear, I head straight for the bar. A drink will calm my nerves, quicker than anything else I have on hand. I sure could go for a joint right now, but I haven’t kept that shit in the house in years. So straight vodka will have to do.
“Should I be worried?” he asks as he steps up behind me. He’s so fucking calm, and I have the naivety to love that about him. I used to emulate him, but I should have known I’m nothing like Ellis.
So, when I realized I couldn’t be him, I settled for fucking him. Or rather letting him fuck me which I guess is a more appropriate way of putting it.
Pathetic.
“Nash, talk to me, please.”
“I can’t do this,” I say before throwing back the lukewarm vodka letting it roll down my throat like lava.
“And by this…you mean—”
“This,” I bark, gesturing between us. “I can’t keep lying to myself. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship with one person, let alone two. And do you have any idea what the media would do with me if they found out. What it would do to my company?”
“I won’t talk down to you, Nash or treat you like you don’t know what you’re talking about, so I won’t comment on the business part of what you just said, but if we’re going to go round and round about you ‘pretending’ to be something you’re not, then you’re right. This isn’t going to work.” He gestures between us and it stings. A lot more than I expect it to.
A few hours ago, we were connecting. We were in some fucked-out bliss, but right now, I’m ruining it. I’m burning it to the ground before it even had a chance to start, and I hate myself for it. But it’s not like I can tear down this wall of anger now. The vulnerable, scared version of myself beneath it is pathetic, and I don’t want his sympathy or his pity. I’d rather he just fucking leave.
“Just out of curiosity, what happened between last night and just now? Why do you flip so fast from looking at me like you love me to showing me all the hatred you really feel?”
I swallow at those words. Love and hate.
“I just realized this whole time I’ve been trying to get back what I had with Zara and somehow settled on a cheaper version by fucking both of their best friends.”
His nostrils flare, and the first thing he does, which I give him credit for, is turn back to make sure Hanna is not within earshot to hear what I just said. Then, he charges straight for me, and at first, I think he’s going to hit me, and I almost wish he would. But he doesn’t. Instead, with wild anger in his eyes, he presses me against the bar, his hand firm and broad on my chest.
“I hate myself for letting you in again, but I don’t hate you. Because you’re so fucking broken you make it impossible to hate you. And you think you’re hiding how scared you are, but I see it. I always saw it. It’s the part I fell in love with…both times. And this time, I had myself fooled you would let go, maybe for her, maybe because she was a soft place to land and if I had both of you, I could finally let myself love you again without being scared you would do to me what you did last time. Because I don’t think you realized what you did to me, Nash. I don’t think you saw how