Page 34 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“She doesn’t even own a jacket heavy enough for this weather!” I shout again.

“Yeah. She does!” He shouts back, “Because I bought her one yesterday. Calm the fuck down.” He moves in closer, daring to get in my face. I don’t like the stinging in my chest because if I spared her more than a glance yesterday, maybe I would know this, too. Maybe I would be the one buying her things, taking her places.

“I think I should go,” the redhead interrupts us quietly, moving off the dining bench, then giving us a wide berth as she heads to find the rest of her clothes.

“And who the fuck is that?” I ask Blanks, pissed as hell.

He laughs, “Does it matter? If you’re mad about not getting any, maybe next time, don’t turn down yourwife.” I want to throttle him.

We stand, staring each other down, until I finally say, “I didn’t turn her down.” The sick smile slides off the bastard’s face. “She turned me down.”Hate admitting that to him.I shoulder-check him as I grab a piece of bacon off the counter, then head towards the stairs.

“She turned you down?” he asks quietly as if the question isn’t actually meant to be answered.

So I don’t bother with an answer, focusing instead on getting dressed as quickly as possible to go find her.

Blanks

Everything tastes sour. Immediately, I want to throw up the coffee I’ve been downing like it’s a lifeline.

What does it mean that she turned him down?

Who was she begging for in the bathroom?

Was it me? Why do I wish it was me so bad?

I drag my hand down my face, feeling the burn in my chest. This new yet familiar ache that comes every time I’m around her.

Every time I say I’ll keep my distance and then can’t, the burn is there.

When I left her alone last night, on fucking Christmas Eve, the burn had been there.

When I brought someone home, knowing she would be getting up for her hike, my chest had been on fire. And not for the redhead, but forher. Hoping she would hear me. Wishing it was her the whole time.

Knowingit never would be because she’s likely halfway in love with her husband already.

But is she?

Why the fuck is Alex sleeping in there if she said no, and why did it make me want to push him into the freezing cold lake? Why couldn’t he just leave her the fuck alone?

I want to punch him in his fucking face over it.

My feet are moving up the stairs before I can even think of it.Stay the fuck away from her.Repeats in my head, over and over. Is it that I need to stay away, or him?Both.

I barge into his room. We were past the point of a courtesy knock.

“Just leave her alone today, okay?” I say to his back as he gets dressed.

“Give me a good reason to, then.” He turns around, zipping up his jeans and grabbing a sweater.

Because I like her, and she’s nice, and she doesn’t deserve whatever shit you’ll end up putting her through.But I don’t say that. I can’t.

“Because she doesn’t like Christmas, and it’s a shitty day for her. Just let her be alone. You, of all people, should know how that feels.”

I hate him for a second because somehow he’ll squander this, burning everyone around him in the process, then wonder what all the smoke is about later. He just doesn’t fucking get it, his effect on people. I hate that he’s like this.

When it becomes apparent he isn’t going to bother replying, I say, “Listen, I’m leaving today. But just try and be nice to her.” I turn to walk away, almost forgetting, “Your Christmas present’s in the garage, asshole. Merry Christmas.”

He stands, staring at me, until finally he says, “Yeah, Merry Christmas.”