Page 74 of Distorted Obsession

I can’t silence all the fucking noise.

“Why would they share blood like that? It’s fucking gross,” another person mutters. But they don’t fucking understand. They don’t get the headspace you have to be in to be that desperate.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Sprinting, I brush past everyone, ignoring all the calls for me to wait, and sprint away from the noise.

I run as fast as my feet can carry me away from everything, knowing today’s events will go into the box of things I may never process—knowing that I’ll pretend this day never happened.

It’s too much to fucking deal with, and I don’t have the mental capacity to begin to try. Today is more than my brain can handle. It’s more than I could fathom, and it’s for that very reason that my mask is firmly back in place as I round the corner to my dorm.

Today can go fuck itself raw with no lube.

30

eva

“Thanks for beingamenable to grabbing breakfast instead of dinner,” Callum begins. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend your game tonight. Mom and Dad had an emergency meeting with the Council back in Edgewood. So, I need to head back to Pierce Towers until Dad returns.”

Secretly, I’m glad he can’t make it. Things are still strained—our relationship is far from its usual ease. It’s been more fumbled phone calls or mundane deflecting text messages. Each time he tries to bring up what happened with Farrah, I dance my way right out of the conversation. I’m not ready to broach the subject again. I desperately want to go back to the way things were—back to when my friend was alive and the most complex thing in my life was my mental and physical well-being.

Nodding, I slide my hands under the table and wipe my sweaty palms against my khaki shorts as he continues. “Normally, I would leave Safa in charge in my absence, but we just acquired Fort Mose, and I need to be present to finalize the terms of the agreement before the contract is officially signed.”

“What’s Fort Mose?”

“The whiskey company we bought from the Bradleys,” he replies.

Bradley? Aren’t Liam and Mason Bradleys?

I don’t get time to ruminate on my questioning thoughts before they’re interrupted by another onslaught of my brother’s apologizing.

“Evie—”

Sighing, I hold up my hand, cutting him off with whatever faux confidence I can muster. “You know it’s okay. There will be more games and other times to visit.”

Callum studies me from across the table, and I know he’s assessing whether it’s actuallyokay. I would welcome his keen perception any other time, but at this moment, I wish he were a little more dense. His penetrative gaze denotes every nervous twitch I make. This is precisely why I declined when he offered to pick me up this morning. I wasn’t ready to be in a confined space with him for this very reason.

Fighting the urge to look away, I wring my wrist as I mentally kick myself for forgetting my fidget ring. He sits forward, rubbing his stubbled chin. “Are you sure it’s okay? I can reschedule?—”

“No,” I yell loudly before snapping my mouth shut.

Well fuck, there goes my defenses!

Unable to hold his gaze, I look away, grabbing the white cloth napkin and laying it over my lap instead of allowing him to dissect every facial tick. Hoping to buy some extra time before we have the dreaded conversation, I blurt, “ Now, tell me, what’s going on back home?”

I’ll take deflection for five thousand, Alex.

Callum’s hazel-brown eyes soften, and I avert my gaze, allowing myself another moment to regain my composure.

You don’t want him worrying about you, Evie.

Clearing my throat, I inhale before returning my attention across the table in time to his resigned acceptance that I won’t change my mind.

He watches me, and I hold my breath, hoping—praying—he won’t push. Hoping against all hopes he’ll ignore the five-alarm blaze raging at him to fix it.

But he can’t.

This is one fight my big brother can’t win for me.

---