Page 110 of Van Cort

He shoved, rolled, forced, and somehow ended up pinning Rhett to the ground.“Stop!” he shouted. “Rhett, stop!” But a hand managed to get behind his neck, and Rhett headbutted West so hard that the world spun in stars. Before he could see straight again, he felt the body he was trying to hold peel away from him. He turned, tried to move, but Rhett was up on his feet and moving.

RHETT

All Rhett could feel was anger and fear. It had been a while since he’d felt fear, and he didn’t know what to do with it. The only thing he knew was that it was her fault – she’d chosen.

His eyes narrowed on her as she looked at him and stood her ground.

“You need to calm down,” she spat through her tears “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let you turn into what you have done.” What the fuck did that mean? “You have to see, Rhett. This behaviour isn’t okay. Look at West. Look what you’ve done to him!” He kept staring at her. “Goddamn it. Look. At. Him. Now. Turn your head and look at what you’ve done to your brother.” Half of him wanted to, but what difference would that make? It wasn’t West’s fault he was on the ground bleeding. It was hers. She made the choice. She put them all in this situation.

“You should look at him. You did it, Lara.”

She looked confused for a second or two and then widened her eyes. “Me? This is my fault? You’re blaming me for your actions?” Yes. It was all her. Everything he did was for her. She was his passion, his fascination, his way of finding a home in the middle of pain and misery. And she was his emotion, too, the part of him he couldn’t reach without her. If she took herself away from him, what the fuck was he going to do? “No, Rhett. No. I’m not taking that. You did that. You.”

“I did it because of you. It’s all you, Lara. Everything is you.”

She took a deep breath in and sighed, trying to step sideways towards West.

Rhett moved to counter the action. She was never going anywhere near West again, as far as he was concerned.

“He’s bleeding, Rhett,” she said. He knew that. He didn’t care. He fucking deserved it. “Let me look at him.”

“No. Stay where you are. You’re not touching him.”

She wrinkled her brow and kept looking over to West.

Rhett heard movement behind him, so moved closer to Lara to block access.

He grabbed her arm, harshly – the arm that belonged to him, and she winced. It didn’t matter to Rhett one little bit because one fucking touch from either of them - her and West - to each other, and he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that he wouldn’t be able to contain what came out of him. He was barely holding on to sanity as it was because it felt like his father he saw when he beat West, and his father he saw when he looked at Lara, too.

They hated him, just like his father did, and there wasn’t any sense in that because he’d done everything for them, to protect them and make sure they all got what they wanted. And yet here they were, conspiring against him and wanting him alone without them.

They must have been doing that all this last year. If not before. Maybe they laughed at him, too. Or worse, maybe they pitied him.

Poor Rhett, what will he do without us?

Sneering, he did glance back to see his brother. He was still on the ground, with a fucked-up face with blood smearing it. He deserved that given how much Rhett had taken for him. He certainly did now, considering the secrecy that had clearly been going on behind his back.

West stood and faced him off. He didn’t move, but he stood there with his fucked-up face, and he tried peering through layers of hatred to get to the boys they once were. Rhett’s own version of that boy didn’t live here anymore. He was long gone, and he wouldn’t come back either, not after this betrayal.

“Tell me it was a mistake, Lara,” he muttered. “Tell me you’re coming to Harvard.”

She didn’t speak, and as his grip tightened on her, she started struggling to get him off her.

“Stop, Rhett. You’re hurting me.”

West glanced away from him at the overhang and took a step forward. “Rhett?”

Rhett scowled but felt his mouth tip up into a smirk. “Tell me, Lara.” She struggled again and fought against the tension. “Tell me you don’t want West. Tell me you want me.”

Her feet skidded through the dust and rocks. “Rhett, stop. You’re pushing me now,” she said. “Stop. What are you doing?”

He kept looking at West. He was pushing her. He’d always pushed her. Pushed her to be better, pushed her to be quicker, pushed her to be his match and equal. And she was so fucking perfect too. She was everything he needed.

“Rhett, please,” she said. “The ledge.” He knew all about the fucking ledge. He’d looked off it enough himself through the years, but he never jumped because who would have protected West then? No one. He’d have been alone. Afraid.

West moved another step closer. “Rhett, don’t be stupid. Stop.”

Stupid? It seemed to Rhett like he’d been stupid enough already.