Page 97 of We Are Yours
“And I’m just like Joe.” He dug the knife a little deeper when he added, “It’s why we love and hate each other so much.”
“I don’t hate you, Kraven,” I told him, the truth that ate away at me on the daily. “Because you do enough of that for us both.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught tears falling down the sides of Isla’s face. Her expression was one of pure disbelief that Kraven had decided to declare war on me.
Kraven didn’t give a shit. He was too far gone in his hatred for me at that moment. My brother was always reckless. He was a lot like Joe. I couldn’t save our father, so I spent the last six years trying to save him instead.
I was exhausted.
Burned out.
Running on empty.
The wind from my sails was snatched, leaving me on a deserted island by myself.
“Again, with the victim bullshit.” Kraven didn’t let up.
Not that I expected him to. Once he was riled up, there was no calming him down or making him see reason. He was hopeless.
All fire, no water.
“Give me a break.” He scoffed in disgust. “All my life you’ve used everything you’ve done for me against me, and don’t try to pretend that isn’t a fact.”
“Kraven! That’s enough!” she pleaded in a desperate tone that shook my body to the bones.
“Isla and I have a connection you’ll never touch. You see, Julius… you help her with her problems. I make her forget them. That’s the difference between us, dear brother.” He stepped back, arms raised, spitting blood. “Careful, Julius, your halo’s slipping.”
He spun and left, leaving Isla and me alone with the kind of quiet that burned like fire. She stared at me with wide eyes and a terrified expression. The blood had drained from her face while she was frozen in place.
Her hand flew over her heart as if she were trying to hold it together.
But she was still the first to speak. “Julius, I’m so sorry…”
Unable to resist, I bit, “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what the hell he’s talking about.”
“I can’t.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
“Because he’s my friend too, and I care about him.”
“Like you care about me?”
“No. It’s different.”
“But you do have feelings for him?”
“Not in the way I do for you.”
“Where did that line get crossed?”
“Nothing’s been crossed.”
Shoulders tight, I reminded, “Tell that to the footage I saw.”
“He’s drunk, Julius,” she simply replied. “And I learned a long time ago to never argue with a drunk because you never win. At least I never did.”
She turned to leave, but I caught her wrist.
