Page 61 of Forgive You

“No, I mean, did hehurtyou?”

Her eyes are laced with tears, her frown deepening. “You hurt me.”

It’s like a burning arrow hits me straight into the heart, demolishing the little hope I had. My anger soars back in, though it’s not as explosive as it has been in the last couple of weeks.

“Ditto, babe.” I rub the back of my neck with sheer disappointment in my voice.

“I know. I suck.” Fatigue shuts her eyes again.

Great, and now I feel guilty again.Fuck.I grind my teeth, then pull her phone from her grasp and drop it in the center console so I can take her hand. Our fingers link, the heat of her palm calming my rage as she meets my gaze.

“You don’t suck. I promise.” She meets my smile with a tight one of my own, and I relish the feeling of holding her hand.

Do I hate the choices she has made? Yes, I do. Do I hate that she fell in love with my brother? I don’t think there’s anything more I hate in this world. But she doesn’t suck. She’s not flawless and neither am I.

She’s still my girl, though.

Her phone flashes a bright light, and I let go of her hand to pick it up. What the fuck? I just can’t catch a fucking break, can I? It’s like the universe is using me like a pinball machine, having its way with me without mercy.

JACOB: Call me tomorrow

I toss the device in her lap. “You got a text.”

She reads the screen, then lets out a snort. That alone should give me the confirmation I need, but when your heart is shoved around like mine, it doesn’t even come close.

“Nope, fuck him.” She reaches out to grab my hand again, but I dodge it by placing it on the wheel while tapping the turn signal as I drive onto her street. “Oh my god. You’re actually pissed at me, aren’t you?”

How the fuck can I not be? Whenever I think we’re getting somewhere, Jacob’s name keeps popping up.

“Are you still with him, Julie?” I squeeze the wheel tighter.

“Jesus Christ, are we really going back to fighting?”

“When are we fucking not?” It seems like it’s all we can do at this point.

“When you get your head out of your ass, that’s when!”

“Are. You. Still. With. Him?” I set my car in park in front of her building.

“No,” she shouts. “No! How many times do you want me to tell you?No. Do you want it in different languages? No, no, nyet, NO.” She repeats the word with half a dozen accents, though I have no clue which ones she’s aiming for.

“Then why is he still texting you?” I turn into the door to face her. “Why is it that every time I think we’re getting somewhere, we’re working through shit,hisname appears?”

“Because he’s a fucking psychopath,” she huffs, exasperated. “I broke up with him, Jason.”

“When?”

“Youknowwhen.”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Maybe we should stop,” she says, her voice timid and triggering alarm bells in my head.

“With what?”

“With this.” A hand is thrown between us. “I don’t even know why I’m still trying. You’re so hellbent on twisting the truth long enough to make me the villain.”

Her pain fills the vehicle, taking a grip of my throat and digging in deep.

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