Page 78 of Deviant Obsession

My fingers itch to brush back the curl that's fallen across her cheek. To wake her with gentle kisses until she looks at me the way she did a week ago, before whatever anxiety started eating at her. I force myself to step back, shoving my hands in my pockets.

I refuse to call myself a coward as I make my way silently to the front door. I have to believe that letting her go is the right thing. Surely, it doesn’t count as running if she pushed us away first.

The coffee machine gurgles in our kitchen half an hour later as I stare compulsively at my phone. Rhea's profile photo shines back at me—a sweet shot she had chosen before I knew her. When her smile reached her eyes. My thumb hovers over the message icon before I force myself to lock the screen. Again.

My coffee sits forgotten in the pot as I pace the length of our apartment. The sound of Dean's steady snoring drifts from his room, but I know he'll wake soon. Years of sharing space have attuned me to his rhythms, just as he knows mine. The conversation we need to have sits like lead in my stomach.

Even with my phone tucked in the pocket of my jeans, I’m still contemplating every possible message I could send to Rhea, after leaving her alone in her own apartment. But what would I even say? 'I miss you'? 'Talk to me'? The words feel alien coming from me, too close to something Dean would say. I'm supposed to be the controlled one. The pragmatic one. The one who doesn't get attached.

Not that Rhea hasn’t been steadily tearing down that façade since the day I met her.

A groan from Dean's room signals he's finally stirring. My fingers clench around my mug as I finally pour my coffee. The rich aroma holds none of its usual appeal. Nothing holds my interest this morning. Nothing to pull me from beneath the black cloud that settled over me the minute I climbed out of Rhea’s bed.

Footsteps approach as Dean shuffles toward the kitchen, and I steel myself for what's coming. The truth neither of us wants to face. The reality that we've pushed too far, expected too much. That Rhea might choose neither of us in the end.

He appears in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep. One look at my face and his expression hardens. He knows me too well. He knows something's very wrong before I even open my mouth.

I draw in a steadying breath. "We need to talk about Rhea."

"There's nothing to talk about." Dean yanks open the fridge, movements sharp with tension. "She just needs some rest. A break from all the late nights. You heard her."

"You're not seeing what's right in front of you." I lean against the counter, watching him slam cabinet doors with growing agitation. "She's been pulling away for days. She only let us in last night because we showed up at her apartment without warning. You know that she would have felt unable to say no."

"She's just stressed about school.” He won't meet my eyes as he hastily stirs too much sugar into his coffee. "Once things calm down?—”

"She's distancing herself and we both know why." I cut off his excuses, making his jaw clench. "This isn't about midterms."

Dean spins to face me, coffee forgotten. "Because you had to mark her? Make it permanent without discussing it first?Pushher further than she was ready for?"

"No, Dean. Because we made her fall for us.Bothof us. And that’s not something she ever wanted."

“Maybe she wants it now. She’s scared, sure, but she told me how she feels. It’s real for her." His rebuttal cracks slightly, betraying the fear beneath his anger.

"I saw her face last night, bro. Even though she could barely look at me. Something's changed." I don’t have the heart to tell him about the tears. They felt to me like the final nail in the coffin. But to Dean they would be the perfect excuse to run over there and do anything to make her stay.

"Then we fix it." He confirms my unspoken theory as he starts pacing, five steps one way, turn, five steps back. "We talk to her, figure out what she needs?—”

"And say what?" I interrupt him again before he talks himself into a frenzy. "That everything will work out just fine? That she doesn’t have to worry about this twisted arrangement eventually tearing us all apart?"

His pacing stops abruptly. "You'rethe one who started this. Who convinced me we could make it work afteryoupushed your way in."

"I was wrong." I don’t remember the last time I said those words. The last time I meant them. "I didn't expect..."

"Expect what?" Dean's eyes narrow with suspicion. "To actually care about her?"

I try to maintain my mask of indifference, though his words hit too close to home. "To watch her destroy herself trying to please us both."

"So, you're just giving up?" He laughs harshly. "How is that the way to show you care? To walk away? Or is that all you know how to do?"

"Sometimes walking away is the harder choice." I grip the edge of the counter as the age-old argument rears its ugly head. Dean has never forgiven me for leaving town when I did, for those years I spent running away. He never understood that I was losing my mind pretending to be happy. "Sometimes it's the only choice."

"Bullshit." Dean steps closer, invading my space. "You're just scared. Scared of feeling something real for once in your life."

The accusation hits me like a right hook from a heavyweight champ, but I force myself to stay calm. "And you're not?"

His jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grind.

"You don't get to act like you know what's best here." Dean's voice is beginning to rise when he eventually resumes his relentless pacing. The wild look in his eyes mirrors my own forcefully hidden panic.

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