Page 200 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
He scrambles to his feet. “I’ve been where you are. Stop fighting me. I’m on your side.”
“You’re on the Fox side.”
I jump to my feet and run at him. We crash into the side of the bus. The metal booms as it dents beneath us, and something sharp along the panel slices into my side. It burns, but I kept driving forward.
He grabs my shirt and twists it into a fist. He pulls me close to his face.
“If you’d stop for one second, you’d realize you’re on the Fox side.” He pulls me back and slams me against the bus again. “You say you’re protecting her. Why? Cause you’re on her side, you dipshit.”
“You don’t think I know that?!” We lock arms, wrestler-style, but there is nothing playful about this.
“Then what are we doing? And what are you waiting for?”
Our foreheads nearly touch, and we both breathe as if we’ve just run ten miles through fire.
“I fucking hate you,” I snarl.
“No, you don’t.”
I don’t.
I hate myself.
I hate myself so damn much.
We circle, just clinging to each other.
“I thought you weren’t fighting anymore?” I snarl. “For Hope and the baby.”
“You’re worth it. You facing whatever you need to, Hart. You’re worth it.”
A growl tears up my chest, but it sounds more like a defeated plea.
“Why didn’t I stand up for her first?” The question tears out of me.
“Because you were young.” He says it like he understands the weight I’ve carried, because he has.
“I was old enough.”
“Neither of us was old enough.” His tenderness makes me feel seen and not judged.
I’m losing my fight. We’re circling, but barely holding on.
“I don’t want to fight with her anymore.”
“Then stop.”
“I want to tell her everything. I want to beg for her forgiveness.” I pause. “I wanther.” Those last three words nearly kill me to say out loud.
He grips the sides of my face. “Tell her that. Tell Jade.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Levi, I have treated her like shit.”
We’re not yelling anymore, just breathing out the words.
