Page 81 of Breaking You Open

Ravi stops wiping the bar counter to stare at me. “You can’t be serious. That guy hurt him; you know that.”

“Ihurt him.” The words rip from my throat, where they’ve been stewing with their hopeless truth.

“What if someone hurts him more than you did, and you could’ve prevented it? Would you be able to live with yourself if that was the case?”

“He’s not my responsibility anymore.” My words are slurred, and I can barely see straight. Must be the whiskey, but I bet the burning behind my eyes plays a part too. “Besides, he fucking…left already. I’ve waited too long.”

“It’s only been like fifteen minutes.”

Damn. It feels like hours have passed.

“He might still be around,” Ravi continues. “Don’t you think you should at least check? He might be in trouble.”

“I’mtrouble.”

Ravi snorts out a laugh. “Sure you are. But if you won’t, I will, and I think he’d rather it be you who came to see him.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” I grunt, tears thickening up my throat. “He likes you. He feels comfortable around you.”

“Oh, and you don’t think he likesyou?” Ravi says with another laugh, lighter this time. “Come on, Louis, I know you’re drunk, but you can’t be that fucking clueless.”

“He onlythinkshe likes me. That kid would lap up any semblance of kindness anywhere he could get it.”

“So you admit you’re kind, then. That’s a start.”

I give a wordless grunt in reply.

“We’re all a little fucked up, you know,” Ravi continues. “That doesn’t mean we can’t change. It doesn’t mean we can’t do better.”

“But I hurt him. And I hurt Justin too.”

“I know.”

My eyes go wide. “You do?”

“Maurice told me what happened. Why you transferred.”

“That fucker,” I grunt. “So why did you still insist on becoming friends with me?”

Ravi shrugs. “Because I saw your potential, I guess. I saw the kindness behind that big, scary exterior.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong—you’re an ass most of the time, but deep down, I know you’re just aching to take care of someone. Someone to call your own. Someone like him.” He jerks his head toward the exit.

I shake my head. “It was hopeless to begin with. He’s far too young, and I’m far too…” I shudder, clenching my teeth.Awful.

“I’ve seen you hurt people,” Ravi says slowly, “but only ones that deserved it.”

“My father deserved it,” I grit out. “But I didn’t hurt him.”

He pestered my mother so badly that she ended up killing herself when I was eighteen. Still, I did nothing. I fled like I always do when shit gets tough. In turn, my father succumbed to whatever minuscule speck of guilt that still remained in him and hung himself soon after.

By then, it was all too late, and I was left with this sick rage inside me. This terrible anger.

Anger at my inability to protect my mom from my father’s fists. Anger at my hesitation to exact revenge, even when I was old and strong enough to do so. And now it’s too late, all too late, and all that remains is the rage.

Not at my father, but at myself.

There’s no way to heal what’s already done, but maybe I can at least beg Sparrow for forgiveness. I might not deserve him, and he might not deserve me, but at least he deserves my remorse.

I slam the glass on the bar top and stand up, hair a messy curtain around my face. In the state I’m in, I’m barely fit to stand, but at least the will to make things right is stronger than the will to pass out.

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