On The Rebound (Steinbeck U #1) - L.A. Cotton Page 0,97

I… I care about Zach a lot, sir.”

“I know.” He grimaced. “And you’re a good kid, Calli. You are. But it’s puppy love. It won’t last. Zach will go off to college and you’ll be stuck here and then what?”

His words lashed at my insides. It wasn’t like that between us. What Zach and I shared wasn’t fleeting, it was real.

I loved him.

I loved him with my whole heart.

He was the only person who got me, the only one who knew what it was like to grow up in the shadow of your sibling. Invisible. Overlooked.

“I love Zach, Mr. Messiah.”

“Love?” He scoffed. “What could you possibly know about love? You’re kids. You don’t love him, Calli. One day you’ll realize what you have isn’t grown up love, and it’ll be too late. You’ll have both have wasted so much time, and for what?”

“You’re right,” I snapped, frustration racing through my veins. “What can we possibly know about love? We’re just kids… what we have isn’t real. Zach will go off to college and leave me and he’ll probably cheat, or I will. Because that’s what people do to each other, isn’t it? They lie and cheat and break promises. You’re right, why the hell would I put myself through that?” My chest heaved with the weight of my words as anger swarmed inside of me.

“I’m glad you’re able to see the truth of it,” he said looking a little taken aback at my outburst.

“You’re right. So, so right.” I began to cry and looked at the floor. I needed to get my words out, but thoughts of my parents were choking me, and I couldn’t make sense of the overwhelming emotion swelling inside me. I needed a minute. Zach’s dad carried on talking, not realizing I’d not finished.

“And that’s why he needs to leave, because he’s better than this small town.”

I finally found my fire. “What me and Zach share isn’t like that. I would never hurt your son, and he would never hurt me. We might be young, sir, but don’t tell me what I feel isn’t real. I would do anything for your son, anything…”

“Oh my god,” I breathed, tears pricking my eyes. “I did say that... but it wasn’t what you think. I would never have... Zach, I loved you.” I still love you.

My heart ached as the truth of what had gone down settled into my bones. “I loved you so much, and your father was saying all these things, making it sound like what we had was just some childhood crush. It wasn’t...”

“But I heard you, I heard you—”

Taking his hand in mine, I looked at where our fingers twined together. So much anger and heartache and all because he’d heard half a conversation.

Oh, Zach.

“I told him that I didn’t love you, yes... but only before I told him that loving you didn’t do justice to the way I felt about you. I was in, all in, Zach.” Yeah, we were young, babies really where matters of the heart were concerned, but I knew without doubt that Zachary Messiah was my heart, my future.

I didn’t want anyone else.

“N- no.” Painful realization etched into the lines of his face. “I heard you.”

“You heard half a conversation, Zach, that’s all.”

I couldn’t believe that all this time he thought I’d betray him like that.

Didn’t he know how deeply I’d loved him? How much I’d wanted to be his?

But part of me knew the root of his uncertainty. When you grew up being constantly compared to your brother, overlooked because you didn’t fit the family mold, your self-esteem weakened until eventually it disappeared altogether. Zach never lived up to his father’s expectations just as I’d never lived up to mine. We were two lost souls, vying for attention, desperate to feel worthy and wanted. And we’d found that in each other. We’d found it and gradually, we let it heal us. But the second it got called into question we’d both pulled away because that’s what you did when someone you thought you could trust hurt you.

You didn’t push for the truth or demand answers. You barricaded your heart and internalized your emotions until love turned to heartache, and slowly, over time, heartache became a festering black hole inside you.

“I- I don’t understand.” He looked gutted. His eyes two pits of despair.

“He was asking about my plans for the future, about what would happen after you left for college. He said that I was a distraction, that what we