Page 23 of My Damaged Protector

“Well, too bad because you're going to have to.”

Sighing, I give in to her. She won't have it any other way.

“Of what?” I respond to her earlier question.

“What?” she yells out in confusion.

Rolling my eyes, I clarify. “You asked if I’m tired,” I explain. It takes a few seconds for my words to click. Once it does, the confusion in her eyes is instantly replaced with the earlier anger.

Here we go…

“Of course, I said that. Aren't you tired of keeping it all in? Your pain, your struggles, everything! How much longer will you continue like this? Huh? Until it ruins you forever, and you're left alone entirely? Because I'm looking around you right now, and I’m the only one here, and I don't even have to take a guess as to why!”

Her words hit a nerve in me. It's like being slapped hard in the face.

Taking a step away from her, I put some space between us. Of all the years I've known her, I don't think she has once said anything that hurt me this much.

Is this why I am alone?

Everyone left because I am uptight?

Justin didn't leave, though. Not with a choice, anyway. In fact, when he was alive, you'd easily mistake us for best friends and not brothers. And we weren't even brothers by blood. Wewere brothers by circumstances. However, I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if I never got to know him or had him as a brother.

“He's dead,” I wring out, my legs suddenly feeling shaky under me. I go to sit back down, and she's beside me, her arms around me in comfort.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers.

“It was my fault,” I say what I've never told anyone before. Although I've acted or indirectly showed it in my actions, I’ve never said the words aloud.

“I doubt that's true. You loved him,” she says the same thing everyone has been saying till this point.

Shrugging, I tell her how it all happened.

“Three years ago, he came to visit me at my apartment. It was my day off, but I got called in, and you know how I am with work…” I trail off.

“You love your job, there's no shame in that,” she tries to pacify me.

“Wait until I finish.”

“There's nothing you'll say that’ll make me believe his death was your fault,” she insists.

Her faith in me would be so encouraging in a different situation.

“I left him to go to work, not knowing that gas was leaking in my kitchen.”

“Oh God,” she whimpers, tears running down her face now.

I distantly feel tears rolling down my cheek, too.

“He slept through the leak for most of the day until he decided he was hungry and attempted to cook.”

“Ian, I'm so sorry.” She's crying so hard now.

Although tears are rolling down my cheeks, I can't seem to stop talking. The dam has finally been opened, and there's no stopping it now.

“Of course, we got called in to put out the fire, but by the time we got there, the damage had been done. I can still remember being held down by four men so I didn't go into the fire. I wanted to save him, I could have saved him, but they didn't allow me to. And as much as I wish I could blame them, I know none of this would have happened if I had paid more attention to the appliances in my home. Justin died because of me.”

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