Page 98 of Crew
Channing did, looking between us before his head lowered.
He nodded. "Okay. Okay. I got it."
He turned back to the kitchen, but stopped a few feet away. I hadn't moved. Neither had Cross, and my brother looked between the two of us again. A soft sigh left him.
"I am sorry, Bren."
I looked away. My dry eyes weren't staying dry. I couldn't have that.
"I was stupid and selfish back then, and I was a prick. I know it. Trust me. I fucked up other relationships during that time too," he added, sounding haunted.
Goddamn him.
I didn't want to hear those words. I didn't want to hear how he seemed to be genuine.
Air hissed from my closed lips, and I swung into my room.
Goddamn! That fucker--now? NOW?! Why now? I shook my head. No, no. I wouldn't go there. It was bullshit. Everything was bullshit. This was the safest way to live.
I went into my bathroom, but I didn't close the door. I stood there, in front of the mirror, and held on to the counter.
Cross stood in the doorway. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to.
I looked up, feeling like someone had taken a battering ram to my body. "Did you buy that bullshit?"
He looked at me, his eyes uncomfortably solemn. "Yeah."
I frowned, grimacing. A small knife went in me at his words. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I am."
God. He sounded so calm, so steady, so real. He sounded like the foundation I needed to handle all this shit in my life. I wanted to rail. I wanted to do something to Channing--make him mad, push him away--but I couldn't. He wasn't pushing me. I wanted to sever what he'd just done by making the first advances toward something good.
I couldn't handle that, and I glared at Cross. "Say he's a dick. Say something."
"I don't need to say anything." Again, so strong. He followed that up with, "I'm here for whatever you decide, but you don't really want me to say those words, and you know it. Not deep down."
I hurt.
It wasn't the injuries this time, and that's why it hurt even worse.
I adjusted my grip on the counter. I felt the world swirling under me, like I had since I was eight years old, and I did what I always did. I held on and waited. Once the world stopped moving, I'd keep going.
This time, when it stopped I looked over at Cross. I felt stripped naked in front of him. He saw me.
He frowned, tilting his head. "What are you thinking?"
I swallowed. "I don't want to. That's the problem."
He stared, long and hard, and then he asked, "You feel like not talking today?"
I had to remember to hold on or I'd fall. The floor could dip out from underneath me at any moment. Everything was spinning.
I nodded, my neck stiff. "Please."
"Okay." He gestured to my body. "How are the bruises? Still sore?"
Numb right now. "Fine."
