Page 9 of Setting Limits

“Can I ask you something?” Wes has taken a seat on the love seat opposite me.

“Sure.”

“Why do you hate him?”

It’s like a knife to the chest. “I don’t hate him. He’s my brother. I love him.” My voice is low as I stare at my twisted fingers in my lap. While the accusation hurts, it’s not the first time I’ve heard it.

“It kind of doesn’t seem like it. You’re hard on him, Chelsea. Like, really hard on him. And he’s said more than once that he feels like you hate him.”

I wince from the pain of his sentence. I know I’m hard on Lochlyn. I take a lot out on him. But he’shere. He’s been here for my whole life. When Mom and Dad decided to leave, it was Lochlyn who stepped up, despite being a teenager himself. We had some babysitters, and they were awful and mean. Lochlyn took care of me. Somehow, I twisted our sweet brother-sister relationship into blaming him for our situation. Or at the very least, taking out my frustrations on him. And many of those frustrations revolved around our parents. But he was around, and they weren’t. He took the brunt of it and never complained, never pushed back, never yelled. It just sort of became a habit.

“Yeah, I can see how he may feel that way. Especially after everything that happened. That’s actually why I’m here. I need to talk to him about it.” We sit in silence for a few minutes while I bite back the tears, Wes’s words repeating over and over in my mind.Lochlyn thinks I hate him. “Actually, Wes, do you think you could give me any insight? What was Lochlyn like? Before? And while he was with Shay?”

He’s silent for a few minutes, and while I’m wondering if he’s going to just ignore me, the look on his face, scrunched nose and furrowed brow, tells me he’s thinking. “They were here, together, for his birthday. Shay came up, and I wasn’t actually supposed to be here. I was supposed to be with Claire, my on-and-off girlfriend. She had kicked me out for—well, never mind, that’s not important. The point is, I saw them together. And while I didn’t agree that they were lying to you, I could see how truly happy they were together.

“Lochlyn was like a different person. All year, really. He’s told me a little bit about the reputation he has back home, that you seemed to believe it without really asking him. Chelsea, I've never really seen him with many girls. I saw plenty of girls looking at him, trying to be with him, but I can count the number of girls he’s actually been with, in the two years before we moved into this apartment, on one hand.”

I take a steep inhale and try to control my shock from shrouding my face. It’s very much the opposite of what I expect him to say.

“But then last year, he never brought a girl over; he was here every night. I think you have him misunderstood. And I know for a long time he’s let you believe those rumors. But you need to know that, especially last year, there was absolutely nobody he had eyes for other than Shay. They talked every night.”

Before Wes can say any more, the door to the apartment swings open. Lochlyn stiffens the second he sees me sitting on his couch. We haven’t spoken or seen each other in six weeks. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without talking to him, and my heart aches seeing him. Next to Shay, he’s my best friend.

“Chelsea.” His tone is flat, like he’s merely making an observation.

I stand, wringing my hands, suddenly afraid just showing up was a mistake. “Loch, can we…can we talk?”

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, but he doesn’t move toward the couch, and doesn’t answer me. After what feels like the longest silence in history, he finally responds.

“Sure, Chels. We can talk.” Walking over to the couch, he sits opposite me, glaring.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, his eyes making me want to squirm and shrink away. I need to be strong. I need to lean on the defenses I've had for so long.

“What exactly would you like to talk about,sis?”

Squaring my shoulders, I sit up straighter. “I want to talk about you and Shay.”

A flicker skitters across his eyes at the mention of her name, but he keeps his composure. This is going to be hard. Lochlyn has an excellent poker face and keeps himself composed fairly easily.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “How is she?”

“How do you feel about her?” I dodge his question. I can’t let him know that she’s been miserable. He won’t talk to me if I point out how much I royally fucked everything up for them.

“I love her.”

I bite down on my tongue to control the shock that runs through my body, to keep my jaw from hanging open. He didn’t hesitate, not for a second. He didn’t have to think about it. It just flowed off the tongue like it was the only possibility in the world. I’ve never heard him say he loves anybody or anything besides his car. He barely tells me he loves me, granted I know it’s different.

“Why?”

“Chelsea, what is this? I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you. You made your feelings very clear. We’re not together. You’ve done your damage. Are you just here to rub it in?”

My eyes slide over to Wes, who’s sitting quietly on the couch, taking in the conversation. I don’t mind that he’s here, and I imagine Lochlyn doesn’t either or he’d ask him to leave.

“I’m not asking you to prove anything, Lochlyn. I’m trying to understand.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to understand. What’s the point? You broke us up, we’re done. It’s a little late to start having an open mind.” His voice is dripping with frustration and anger. I understand it, why he’s mad at me, but I have to swallow down the anger rising in my chest.

“Lochlyn, please.”

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