Page 46 of Giving In

“It’s just a bit of white. I won’t get caught.”

“Where’s the phone,” Chris asks.

“In my bag,” she replies. “You won’t find anything on it though, I delete the texts as I get them.”

Chris goes to her bag by the door and starts going through it. I look at her confused. How? How has he dragged her back down already?

“Why,” I blurt out without any emotions in my voice.

My face is a blank mask. The second I show her I’m worried for her she’ll shut down, hide things, try to protect me.

“He’s saying he’ll go to the cops, Jake,” she sighs.

“He won’t,” I reply automatically.

“But he could. And we can’t take that risk.”

“He wouldn’t do that, don’t be stupid,” I insist. She’s looking up at me from the sofa and I’m looking down at her, scowling.

“I told you this purely for your information. At no point did I ask for advice,” she growls.

I know I’m making her angry by getting in her way. Ozy and I struggle for power and protectiveness in our relationship. People assume I’m protective over her because I’m the guy, but hell will freeze over before she accepts anyone to be overprotective and make decisions for her, even if it’s to keep her safe. Hence why she ends up in shit situations 90% of the time, although she’ll never admit, it’s because she refused help in the first place. Stubbornness runs in our blood.

The problem with the fact that she never accepts help is it clashes with the fact that I like controlling everything. Scratch that, I don’t like it, I need it. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. That burning need to make sure everything goes my way and because I decided it would. This tug of war over control often ends up in clashes between us and I can see exactly where this discussion is going.

“Can you get out of the way? I’m in a binge-watching mood.”

“Are you for real right now,” I snap, not moving an inch.

“What?” she shrugs.

“Ozy, you’re not doing any work for Sam. You don’t give into Sam’s threats, you don’t play his games. You more than anyone else should know that.”

Her lips press into a thin line and I can almost feel the heat from the anger bubbling in her head.

“Look,” she smiles at me. I know there’s no honesty in it. “I want to apologize because obviously I didn’t make myself clear. I’m going to move a few bags for Sam. I don’t give a shit about your opinion. Now move out of the way so I can watch Netflix.”

“Fuck,” I huff. “Old habits die hard.” I regret the words as soon as they pass my lips, but I don’t show it. Maybe she needs a bit of poking.

She gets up from the sofa in a sudden movement and gets in my face. Her jaw is ticking, and I almost want to laugh at how similar we are.

“Take that back,” she growls.

“I can’t. I said it and I meant it. Sam’s not back for five minutes and he’s already gotten a hold of you. You think it’s because he’s gonna go to the cops, Ozy? Don’t make me laugh, you wouldn’t take that threat seriously in a million years. You’re weak to this guy and it’s driving me crazy.”

She gives me a big push, I barely move, and it makes me chuckle.

“Look at you, you’re such a big dude trying to do the right thing while I take care of the problem and sort us out. You’re right, old habits reallydodie hard,” she spits at me.

I lose control. She knows she hit straight home, and I give her a push back making her fall back on the sofa. She doesn’t back down though. She never does. Instead, she gets back up quickly and tackles me like a football player.

My back hits the TV behind me and I grunt as I push her back kicking the back of her leg, making her fall to the floor.

“You want to go back to being Sam’s bitch? Fine. Make sure you don’t take me down with you.”

“Enough you two,” Chris scolds from the other side of the room.

I look up to see he’s emptied Ozy’s bag all over the floor. I help my sister back up while we’re both still shooting daggers at each other. She’s driving me mad, but I can’t really leave her on the floor.

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