Page 37

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. The tea in front of me starts getting cold, and I am yet to give it a try. Instead of focusing on the situation at hand, my thoughts are elsewhere. My eyes are glued to my lap, and I can’t bring myself to look up.

Heavy footsteps fill my ears, the pacing in the room seems to be never-ending. The tension is thick in the air, the dreadful conversation looming over me. I gulp, trying to figure out a way to sneak myself out of this situation, though at the time, it seems impossible.

The pacing abruptly ends, and while looking down, I see a pair of shoes directly in front of me. I’m not the one to back down from a verbal argument. In fact, I love them. My tongue is sharp, and at times, I even shock myself with the witty, quick, and sarcastic responses I can come up with.

Not now, though.

Currently, I’m in for the scolding of my life. Mom’s scolding consists of her flapping her arms around, rambling on and on, then reminding herself to calm down. Eventually, she just makes me promise I’ll be more careful.

Dad, on the other hand, has this tactic he likes to use on me. He stares me down until I start apologizing profusely, then he has his men following me around for the foreseeable future, and there’s nothing I can do to shake them off.

Right now, I’d take either of those over this.

After Cove managed to cover me with his coat, he drove us to his place, where we spent the night. An hour ago, he went to buy me some donuts from the shop I really like for breakfast, and he hasn’t returned yet. I’m praying he gets home soon, because I’m barely surviving this thick tension.

I allowed him to leave only after I tended to his wounds that were inflicted by some of Wyatt’s people. Worry gawks at me, but Cove isn’t too injured, luckily, and it shouldn’t leave a scar. It doesn’t mean I’m still not checking on his wounds whenever I get the chance.

It’s becoming a habit for me to tend to his wounds, and as disturbing as it sounds, I like it. The intimate moments that cannot be described in words, the silent times when no words are needed, pure affection shown through actions.

Slowly, I raise my head and shiver at the sight of Arlo’s piercing gaze. He blinks, brows narrowed at me. His arms are folded in front of his chest, and he doesn’t speak. He stares me down, just like Dad would. However, as scary as Dad is, he’d never actually yell at me.

Arlo has no such morals, and he’d yank me by the ear if he thought I’d listen.

I give him a sheepish smile, pointing my finger to his brows. “Bleached the brows too? Looking good.’’

“Shut the fuck up, Aria.’’

That causes my mouth to clamp shut.

My brother takes a few deep breaths, calming himself down before walking over to the kitchen and dragging a chair. He sits in front of me, lighting a cigarette, and just continues to observe me. His eyes travel all over my body, settling on the cheek where Wyatt hit me. It just has a small red mark left, nothing major.

A gray cloud of smoke hides his face, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if it’s reality. As the smoke evaporates into thin air, I freeze in my spot.

Arlo’s eyes redden, and a tear slides down his cheek. He doesn’t say anything, his breathing doesn’t change. His stoic face is unmoving, except for the smallest tear that falls down his chin, onto his grey shirt, leaving a dark spot.

“Arlo?” I whisper, worry starting to build inside me.

“Do you know what it felt like? The night when you sliced your wrists open? Hearing Mom’s screaming and coming into the bathroom to find you almost dead? Do you know what it felt like to see life drain out of you, the water turn red, and your body losing all the color?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Arlo doesn’t let me. His voice is controlled, calm, and smooth, but emotions are obvious as he lets tears fall freely.

“Can you even try to comprehend, just for a moment, what it felt like in the hospital while we were waiting to see if you’d pull through or not? Can you even imagine the fucking guilt I’m feeling for not noticing how Wyatt was treating you? For not killing the motherfucker right then and there? Do you know what it felt like to see your almost dead body in my dreams every single fucking night?”

The raw, unfiltered pain is in his words, and I can’t form a coherent sentence. Instead, I’m able to stare at my older brother as he smokes his cigarette, his hands trembling and eyes watering. The agony as he remembers one of the darkest times our family has faced is evident on his face, and I can’t do anything to lessen it.

“Do you know that I would never be able to live without you, Aria? You’re more than just my little sister. You’re my other half, you dumb girl. I can’t lose you,’’ his voice is hoarse, thick with emotions. “And I know just how stubborn you are. Hell, all of our family is. But I thought that if I couldn’t make you see the reason, Cove could. After all, you chose him, didn’t you? No matter what I say on the matter, you won’t care, and you’ll stay with him.’’

“Arlo…’’

“I’m not done yet,’’ he interjects, though his voice doesn’t raise. “I know you love Cove. The reason for this is beyond me, but I know you do. So, why couldn’t you listen to him? He told you to stay put. All you had to do was stay put.’’

“I couldn’t.’’ I rest my elbows on my knees, putting my face in my palms. Shame overwhelms me, and I can’t look him in the eye. “I was so scared that he’d kill Rose. She’s our friend, and I just…’’

“You just, what, Aria? Do you trust us — me — that little? I promised you we’d find Rose. Why couldn’t you just trust me?”

“Because I couldn’t sit around! As soon as you and Cove left, I figured out that Wyatt sent you the video as a distraction, and I figured out where he’d actually be. So, I left before the timer ran out.’’

“You could’ve called me!”

“I didn’t want to!” I admit, lifting my head from my hands. “I wanted to do it by myself!”

“Is revenge so important to you that you’d risk your life again? Call me fucking selfish; I don’t care, but do you really not think about anyone else or anything else but your revenge?”

“That’s not—’’

“That’s not, what?” He cuts me off, eyes hardening and tears vanishing. “How do you think Cove would feel? I know that man better than I know myself! Losing you would fucking wreck him for life. Cove isn’t Cove unless he has you, Aria! And what about Mom, Dad? Fuck, what about me? Do you think I could handle losing you?”

“You didn’t lose me! I’m right here! I’m alive and I’m fine!”

“You almost weren’t!” He yells, abruptly standing up and pacing around me again. “Just like you almost weren’t fine when you tried taking your life, or when you saw Wyatt in the basement, or when you snuck into Kortlek! You’re always alive just by a fucking thread, Aria! What will it take for you to stop risking your life?”

“What am I supposed to do?! Just forget about Wyatt and hide away?’’

“Let me take care of it!”

“I’m not a child anymore! I don’t need you taking care of me!”

“And that’s what is constantly almost getting you killed!” He screams, then tries to calm himself down by taking deep breaths. It doesn’t work, though.

“Why don’t you focus on the girl that actually needs protection and leave me alone?”

As the words leave my mouth, I regret them immediately. Arlo’s pacing comes to a sudden halt, and he turns to look at me. At first, he’s in disbelief. He can’t believe I just said that. He blinks, and once he realizes I actually said it, he takes a step back.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Apologize, Aria.

That’s all I need to do. Arlo knows me; he knows I just said it without thinking. My biggest flaw is my tongue being quicker than my brain. However, he’s not the one to hold a grudge against me. With a simple apology, all of this can be fixed.

Instead, I double down.

“You heard me. Focus on Blair and leave me the fuck alone. I know you just fucking adore damsels in distress, so go to yours. I’m not one.’’

“How can you say that? You know better than anyone else what she’s been through. Hell, there are things she hasn’t told me, but she has told you. Using her as a weapon in an argument that has nothing to do with her is a low blow, even for you.”

“If a gun was pressed to your head, and you were forced to pick between Blair and me, you’d pick Blair in a heartbeat. So, please, go and focus on her and leave me alone. I don’t need your pity or fucking protection.’’

For the first time since I’ve known him, Arlo is rendered speechless.

I know that Blair has nothing to do with this, nor does she deserve my anger. I love her, Mom and Dad love her like she’s the third child. But right now, I want to hurt Arlo. I don’t know why. I’m pathetic, insecure, and everything that Wyatt said starts to resurface in my mind.

Arlo doesn’t spare me another glance. He grabs the coat off the couch, tosses it on, and leaves Cove’s place with a slam of the door. He left before he’d say something he’d regret and left me to drown in my own regret.

I lean back on the couch, closing my eyes.

Everything in me hurts. My body, my mind, and my soul start aching the moment I’m left alone. I don’t cry, albeit there are tears that threaten to spill. My head’s a mess. I don’t know why I said what I said.

She doesn’t deserve this.

Blair’s situation is vastly different from mine. However, when the time came for her to face her abusers and get her power back, Arlo helped her, mainly from the shadows. Everything else was Blair’s doing. She took the life of the man who ruined her life, took away her childhood, and had her imprisoned.

Why did he trust her back then more than he trusts me now?

Am I that pathetically incapable of handling things on my own that he won’t let me do it? Why do people around me deem me so powerless, so useless? It doesn’t help that my self-esteem had taken a massive hit from the time I’d been with Wyatt.

So, now that I’m better, both mentally and physically, why can’t they trust me?

The moment I hear the front door open again, I open my eyes. Cove strolls in, taking off his coat. It takes him a split second to notice my state and the way tears blur my vision. He drops the small bag of donuts on the floor, and without missing a beat, he’s right in front of me, on his knees, inspecting me for any visible injuries.

“What’s wrong, bunny?”

His soft voice just makes me break. Instead of responding verbally, I start crying loudly. My arms wrap around his neck, and he instantly hugs me back, holding me close to his body. He strokes my hair softly, not asking any more questions.

Cove lets me use him as a shoulder to cry on, and I let it all out. All of my frustrations and fury come out in tears, soaking his shirt and staining my face. I struggle to breathe, and I don’t know how to fix what I just ruined.

There’s not a scenario in which I could’ve predicted this. If Arlo doesn’t speak to me again, I won’t blame him.

Because all of this is my fault, and it’s only now that I realize how heavy the words about Blair were. I can’t blame him if he doesn’t even look at me again.

I wouldn’t either if I were in his shoes.